Today is the publication date of To Hell in High Heels. When my first book came out I was close to bursting with excitement by the time it came out. I counted the days, rather like a child counts the days to his birthday. The same went for the second and the third.

But what I have found with books is that, rather like birthdays, you get all excited about them, but nothing actually changes.

Today will pass much like any other day. Leo will wake up soon and start bossing me about. I will take the children to school where my friend Mary and I will discuss how badly we slept, whether Madonna should be wearing latex underwear aged 50 and grumble about the weather. I will come home and work. Then I will collect the children for lunch, listen to their stories from school, take them back to school and so on. Today will pass just like any other normal school and work day.

Unless of course you ALL go out and buy the book. In which case I may be famous by this time tomorrow. In fact you don’t even have to go out. You can order it from amazon. I am going to have my hair done after the school run just in case.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

When I went to collect Leo from school today he ran at me, threw his arms around me and started giggling hysterically. As this is something he often does, I didn’t pay any attention. We left school, went to the park, chatted to friends and then came home.

At home I finally realised I had a fish stuck to my back, they call them poisson d’avril here. Seconds later I found a hand-written letter on my desk from the mayor. Rather suspiciously the handwriting looked just like Bea’s.

‘Helena,’ it read. ‘Your work is no good, your books are horrible, if there is not an improvement by the end of the week you will be removed from your work. Signed’ and there was a signature that looked a bit like a jelly-fish in some kind of trouble.

An email arrived from a TV production company specialising in food shows. They have read my blog and love it, it read. Would I like to come and chat to them about appearing on one of their shows. They made such hits as Two Fat Ladies and Gordon Ramsay’s F-word. I have made an appointment but am slightly worried the address will turn out to be fake. And how stupid will I feel standing on a building site wearing my chef’s hat and apron?

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008