Paul’s birthday, Shakespeare’s birthday, St George’s Day. None of these events was marked by a special graphic on Google’s opening page. Surely some mistake.

Anyhow. An early start so I could be in the office in good time. After working from home yesterday I rightly assumed there would be a lot of email waiting to be answered. Voicemail, too, and then a meeting at eleven that expanded to take in lunch at Sartoria and a credit card that the restaurant refused. Fortunately not mine.

I arrived back at my desk feeling slightly sleepy from the lovely sunshine, and overfull from the heavy chocolate torte I’d had for desert. It was so dense it was more like an eraser than a mousse. Fortunately it was an afternoon of editing copy, which while not relaxing at least means I can listen to the radio and sit still for extended periods while lunch settles.

It had just about neatly filed itself away by the end of the afternoon, when I met Trevor, Jon and Paul in Village Soho for birthday drinks (Paul’s, not Shakespeare’s).

As far as London bars go, this is one of the nicer options. It has an old-fashioned wood and stone decor and in the summer (and this evening) the front is open to the street so you get a refreshing breeze. The crowd is generally fairly relaxed, too.

As a bonus, they were doing Smirnoff Ice at

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