2002-07-29 - 10:20 p.m.

It went pretty much like this: the house was cleared for action and punch was made strong enough to blow the feathers off a marauding parrot from thirty paces. People came, coincidentally almost all of my favourite people (and sadly a couple who slid down and off the scale of loveliness with alarming alacrity, only to be replaced with sparkly new replacements) in the whole world, and you know who you are, I hope. Then we had lots of champagne and punch and beer and punch and wine and punch and, thanks Bruce and Lara, tequila and punch and we laughed and danced. And sometimes I just sat back and listened to it all and looked at it all and felt so happy that I thought my heart could burst like a big, soppy cardiovascular firework. Ace new D�land people that I met for the first time that night mixed effortlessly (and not a little raunchily you two behind the couch) with friends of twenty years and friends of five years and one year and I feel stupidly lucky sometimes. Of course, I wanted to take the whole room to bed with me; instead we drank more and did more tequila shots and somehow stayed up to watch the sun come up in the park and it was, like the entire night, fucking beautiful.

I wanted to write so much more, but I appear to have spent the day in editorial charge of a national publication and my mind feels like it�s been violently mugged.

But without getting all Golden Girls, thank you all, so much.