Recaro is away with a client at Royal Birkdale. Tiger might not be at this Golf Open, but at least Recaro will get to see his curly headed hero, Miguel Angel Jiminez.
This leaves me with plenty of time to keep Peaches up late and take her out with me to meet up with friends, Guru and Style Queen, for dinner and chat. Incidentally, the Style Queen's house is beautiful. It's a late 18th century town house with Trafalgar balconies and wenge floors (though not in the kitchen). It's the sort of house which induces a feeling of idle decadence.
Before you know it, I had a glass of Champagne in my hand. So far, so Virtual Blogher.
Next thing you know, Peaches was tucking into the pitta bread and canapes. That's practically a canape in this strangely lush world of mine. Surely this makes Peaches an honorary Blogher. Go baby! (By the way, I didn't just pop out a baby while you weren't looking. This 15 week old bundle of sweetness is Style Queen's daughter.)
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that by the time morning comes around there'll be some on line evidence of Blogher delegates having a high old time. I'd hate to think it was all as exciting as this.
After dinner, reality kicked in. I could drink no more and had to carry on with elderflower cordial and cups of tea until it was time to drive home. Ah well. The Blogher fantasy was good while it lasted.