It's come to my attention that I have 'gone a bit meeja' lately.
I think the tipping point came when my handsome comedy scriptwriter boyfriend handed me a scrap of paper on which a very nice lady actress had kindly written for me the title of a self-help book for panic sufferers.
While turning this piece of paper over in my hands, I noticed that it was a bar receipt from the Groucho Club.
Something needs to be done about this, before my lack of ability to keep it real surpasses even J. Lo's.
I know - I'll go to Finsbury Park to have supper with my good friend S. and her husband, who are both directors of a top London PR agency.
And if that doesn't work, tomorrow night I will issue forth to swanky West End eaterie Asia de Cuba, to imbibe elaborate cocktails and partake of some 'modern eclectic' fish dishes.
That should sort it.
OH DEAR LORD, WHAT HAVE I BECOME???