MARRIAGE

Being Jewish means you get to go to extravagant parties from a very young age: barmitzvahs, weddings, circumcisions - you name it, we have a party for it, complete with enough fancy food laid on to feed Djibouti. But never in my 30 years have I ever witnessed such opulence, such excess, and so many people at any one celebration.

Just imagine 750 people crammed into the largest ballroom in New York, a seven-piece band that included three belly-dancing divas, and a pre-dinner smorgesboard so delicious, so wide-ranging and so long-lasting that I barely ate my four-course meal.

There were some stunning women there too. Best of the bunch was a six-foot tall blond who looked 25 but was actually 17. Then there was Sharon, a pretty, black-haired student from LA with a grand-piano grin. She left early. I didn't ask for her number.

But I do plan to call Emma: pretty, smiling and with a very pleasant way about her. It's 3.30am, though, so I really need to go to sleep. I shall try to write more about her, the Italian couple's niece and my ex-snog (with whom I've having lunch on Monday) later today.