MELTING

I must apologise to my fellow Londoners. It's been so oppressively sweltering these past few days that when cycling to and from work I've dispensed with my tee-shirt, and ridden topless. I've yet to cause any accidents. Though I'm sure that with my chest-rug bristling in the breeze, there may have been some unconfirmed sightings of the Missing Link.

Otherwise, the week's been notable only for its dullness and the new lengths to which my editor will go to do nothing. She's turned her slothfulness into an art-form.

After-work, things have been no less uninspiring. I'm still waiting on last week's job interview. Otherwise, I'm attempting to work on my million-dollar idea while watching Goldfinger and writing this blog. It's not easy.

At least, though, I don't worry myself about Z. Last Thursday, after what must have been two months of courtship, I ended it. On paper, she was most things I was looking for: pretty, fit, kind-hearted and fun. But for some reason - probably the dearth of intellectual stimulation - that spark was just lacking.

When I told her, over the phone, I began by asking her how she thought things were going between us. Of course, she knew what was coming. She took it well. Too well? Assuming she was telling the truth, she felt - or didn't feel - the same way I did/didn't. It was painless.

So now I'm back on the market. I feel a little lonelier than before, but I can at least breathe again. I even met a cute lawyer on Sunday night at the pub. She'd just split with her bloke and said she'd call me, rather than giving me her number. No news so far, but she made a promise. So watch this space...