Slow day yesterday, it seems that the last week in July is when London officially goes into holiday mode.
It’s a good 28C and fortunately I’ve only one appointment out of the air conditioned haven that is my office.
Been thinking about Cleo a lot, although we’re not seeing each other until Monday, I’m already beginning to plan our next date, when out of the blue at about 1030, I get a call from her,
“Hi Daddy, what are you doing for lunch?”
I tell her I’ve got a short meeting in Mayfair and am free afters.
“Why don’t we have a picnic in Green Park?”
So, meeting over, I head to Fortnum’s on Piccadilly, Cleo is waiting.
She looks amazing, she is wearing a strappy, loose, red shift dress and sandals that just show the rather tasteful tattoo on the side of her foot.
We make our way through the deli and end up grabbing a bottle of champagne that’s helpfully in the chiller.
Popping our lunch into a tasteful ‘F&M’ basket, we head down Piccadilly to the park.
Lunch is amazing, poached salmon, some salad, champagne. We laugh, we giggle and we swap some ‘worst date you’ve ever had’ stories.
Lying in the sun with Cleo resting her head on my chest, I’m looking up at the blue sky thinking, I’m lucky enough to work in the best city in the world and I have this beautiful Sugarbabe who calls me Daddy.
How fucking lucky am I?