It was my birthday last week and I'd deemed to indulge it alone and all to myself; I enjoy hanging out with me.

The plan, a champagne breakfast at the Wolseley in Piccadilly, before mooching about town and visiting a few art galleries.

The most beautiful and intimate of all London's galleries has to be the Wallace Collection in Manchester Square; I'd then go onto lunch at Elena's L'Etoile, in Charlotte Street.

However, rising early I found it below freezing outside…brrr…not at all conducive to swanning about town in a pretty spring frock; so it was plan B.

Popping over to my local supermarket, I treated myself to a whole lobster and several oysters, washing them down with just the one glass of champagne. More than one glass before 6pm brings on the need for a catnap; I'd no intention to sleep away my birthday.

I'd been slacking on my jogging of late and was needing an injection of inspiration on that front, no run = big fat tum, loving food as much as I do.

Wrapping up warm, I strolled on over to the City to Runner's Needs, where they have an in-store treadmill, so as to determine one's most suitable running shoes. Whilst there I also bought a new top, running pants and socks...£££'s

As a musician, I've avoided the ipod craze; if one is to be creative one needs moments of both peace and quiet, a space and environment lending itself to creativity.

But...anything that encourages me to run and stay fit has to be a good thing.

And so, I bought an ipod that reads out distance ran, calories burnt and time, oh...and at the push of a button a 'Power Song' (Simply The Best, The Final Countdown, Born to Run, et al) should you need that last bit of encouragement before giving up and expiring...£££'s

4pm saw me running about the dock in my new finery. 'Two miles completed, one mile to go,' said the American lady in my earphones and upon completing my run, Tiger Woods warmly congratulated me too!

'As it's my birthday, why not indulge in a long hot soak and just a teeny weeny catnap,' I thought to myself.

Arriving Hawksmoore at 8pm, I'd just finished putting in my order for a big juicy T-bone and was sat at the bar sipping upon complementary champers, when my phone rang.

'Hello Frances, it's M here, I was wondering if you're available this evening?' 'Ohhh, I'm just about to have dinner M, would say...10pm be OK,' I replied. 'Sure Frances, I'll wait in that local bar, come fetch me when you're done; enjoy your meal.'

M is in the antique business and always full of interesting facts, figures and stories of the trade, it's workings, good investments and what to avoid; my own little Antiques Road Show.

It was now a little before midnight.

'Fancy coming back to the Ritz; I've a large bed there, its far too big for just the one, and breakfast too,' said M.

'Ohhh...I'd love to M, but maybe next time, its been a long day and I'm ready to flop right here and now, thank you.' 'Not at all Frances, perhaps next time then?' I collapsed into bed not long after midnight.

It'd been a lovely way to spend my birthday, before sharing it again the next day, with my dear family and friends. Anon.