New Job Description

Keeper has kept the Keepee (moi) v busy. Have spent the past three days looking at possible new accommodations for us. Have decided to label it my new job. Have unfortunately but not surprisingly discovered there is a mismatch in our ideals. The keeper would love to move to Fulham or Chiswich ie/ baby land and start filling the six bedrooms he has his mind set on. The Keepee on the other hand wants to find a uber-cool artists loft in either Notting Hill, Sth Ken, ie/ central London and pretend she's still 25. Was pleased to spot a trendy mummy pushing one of those 4WD buggy things in Notting Hill this morning, looking v smug in her locale. Note to self - tell Keeper of sprog sighting within M25 radius. I considered asking her if I could borrow her pram with babe and trialing the look for the day. Decided that with all the stair climbing - in and out of five house so far today and have five more for late this afternoon I wouldn't be a happy camper by afternoon's end.

Going to supper at happily-married with-twins and another-on-the-way friends tonight - so no doubt will bore them senseless with my new daily activities. Please god send a message advising how to not let brain dry up and fall out of my ears.

Dined last night at Club Gascon - fab SW French restaurant and bar in Smithfield market. Lots of yummy offally things. The Keeper chose the vegetarian menu. The Keepee plumped for the steak with bone marrow and kidney reduction. Need to keep my strength up for all those stairs. Wine selection was memorable too (I think, if I could remember).

Now have a new mobile. Keeper insisted I acquire one asap. With all the fancy technology available in UK and Europe (US is still light years behind in technology) I was offered a phone that not only duel-purposed as MP3 player but also had GPS ie/ satellite navigation capabilities. Refrained as there's only so much tracking I want the Keeper to be able to do. A girl needs to be able to disappear every so often - especially in the vicinity of Harvey Nich's.

Keeper keeps calling me throughout day to check up on my accommodation sourcing. Don't want to say house hunting as I'm worried a flat is all that's within our monetary parameters, unless I give in and move to the nice family home areas of London and start baking bread. Wish he wouldn't call - what am I supposed to chat to him about, over the home cooked roast chicken I've lovingly prepared after his hard day at the office?

Must dash - have an appointment with a rather cute estate agent. I guess this job does have it's perks. Saw a house with him on Saturday and have found another under his sales list that I've decided I really should look at, even if I don't like it.