I know, I know, I’m really spoiling you with blurry photographs taken in the mirrored windows of closed banks. You’re welcome. In an effort to stave away the intense sweat (TMI?) I’m wearing a dress and shoes from Asos, a Marc by Marc Jacobs tote from My-Wardrobe, D&G sunglasses and a Juicy Couture watch. Writing that sentence down makes me feel like a real label whore.

As it happens, I’ve just thrown those sandals in the bin in a blister-induced rage and I’m on the hunt for a pair of cool brown leather Birkenstocks. (Does that mean I’m getting old?)

Today it’s meant to rain and I feel something approaching patriotic elation at the prospect. I’ll be the Irish maniac running around in the rain going “there’s no place like home! There’s no place like home!”

A tout a l’heure, mes amies. (Oh and PS: What about Prince Harry?! Hilare.)