The Colony Room was a very eccentric place to hang out, quite mad. I would go there when pubs didn't open all day – it was great because it would be open all afternoon.

Something very sweet happened today: my mum made pancakes for me and everyone at my studio. My mum will be 81 soon and to see her with a bowl and fork in hand whisking away, with the eager eyes of my Japanese assistant following her every move, and then the tossing – it all worked very well. And the no-recipe formula, the all-knowing "I've-been-making-pancakes-for-70-years" attitude filled me with a strange, glowing pride for my mum, a real mum doing a real mum thing.

I can't believe how fast the week has gone. It seems like there have only been two days this week, and they have both been Wednesday, joined back-to-back, colliding like two tectonic plates. Everything else in between squeezed and pulped into some gluey, blancmangey mess, a sort of dark-mauve, blueberry-coloured blancmange, with a few frozen moments.