Tonight was a reunion with a bunch of girls I met on a trip to Florence, where we had the most hilarious time involving a club called Doris (no, really, here’s the website), some men on vespas and a few morning-after Bloody Marys at the St Regis. We all usually tend to be pretty busy (A and IB are also journos, while IM is in PR) but A had swung an invite to the launch of a new hotel in Aldwych, the ME, and we all signed up immediately.

Cocktails and canapés were served in its rooftop bar, the Radio, and the supplies just kept on coming. It was one of the best-catered launches I’ve been to for a long time (normally the food runs out within about 20 minutes, and all you’ve been able to grab is a tired bit of chicken on a stick and something tiny tasting of teriyaki). But the hotel had laid on a lovely spread: there were mini burgers (always a personal favourite), small, oozy arancini balls, chunks of seared tuna, finger sized, delicate spring rolls, and chocolate brownies for dessert.

I forget, obviously, what the cocktails were, but they were uniformly pretty and most of them had flowers in them. Well, the ones I drank did. We even managed to get out to look at the view; all of London’s lights were shimmering prettily, and you could even see the mighty Shard, rearing up proudly like some kind of euphemism.

We ended the night in a branch of Café Rouge, for some reason, mainly to do with greed and the thirst for more booze. Let’s do it again soon, please, lovely Florentine ladies!