"Let not fame
Go to your head
Like pink champagne"

My very first review in the Evening Standard, with my name and the book title and one of my Meditations all over it. There was even a photograph of me addressing my guests at the London Portrait Academy as they sipped their champagne and orange juice and noted my every word. But I won't let that go to my head. I shall remain the same, introspective, unassuming, modest Harriet Rose I've always been. We chose my dress well, my mother and Nana and I. The journalist was right about my good looks. Even in black and white you could tell I had a certain style, a chicness, something of the author about me.

I hope Jean Claude reads the Evening Standard. He was the only guest I invited to my launch. My mother, the publicist, invited all the rest. I could tell by Jean Claude's expression that he was impressed with my speech. He's a philosopher too. That's why we got on so well from the start. Not that I'll ever speak to him again after the way he let me down that night. My mother, who has a knack of understanding complex affairs of the heart and translating them into simple terms told me what to do: "When he rings," she said, "tell him to sod off". So that's what I'll do - if he rings. But he may not. And I don't care if he doesn't. I only gave him my telephone number because he asked for it.