I'm blogging on the eHarlequin 2007 RNA Romance Prize blog this month.  Here's what I posted today:

I've decided to make it a day trip to London from York next Friday, but that still means booking Mungo into kennels for a couple of nights, as it's too long a day to leave him on his own, and he's too old and grumpy to allow anyone else to take him for a walk. It's also meant forking out for a flexible day return at an extortionate price, but once dog and trains were under control, I could turn my attention yesterday to the knotty problem of what to wear ...

You will be amazed to hear that I have not, in fact, been inundated with calls from top designers wanting to style my "look" for the Awards Lunch, but having seen some of the disasters at the Oscars I can't help feeling I'm better off without them. I turned instead to my two goddaughters, aged 16 and 13, who have been staying with me all this week while their mother (my own personal Trinny and Susannah) is in Australia. Who needs Valentino or Christian Lacroix when you've style-conscious teenage girls on hand to offer advice?

Humbly, I presented four possibilities from my wardrobe, and all were examined with a critical eye - and let's face it, you can't get more critical than a teenager! I was positively cringing as I opened my wardrobe doors and exposed an array of dull, dowdy colours. Unsurprisingly, my black wrap dress got an unequivocal thumbs down, in spite of the fact that I'd have been able to wear my new jewelled shoes with it. They quite liked what I wore last year (phew) but decided it looked a bit tired ("Isn't that the dress you wore all last summer?") and my brown silk dress was dismissed as too smart (too smart?? for the Savoy????) The final vote went to another old favourite, a Jigsaw dress in muted colours, although I was told it needed shoes rather than boots and an undefined "something" to lift the whole outfit out of the really rather ordinary.

So off we set to find the said something ... and naturally ended up back in Jigsaw buying a completely new version of last year's outfit, only in a lighter colour. The dress is very pretty (crushed silk, pale blue, smudgy floral print) but I was a bit worried about the mutton-dressed-as-lamb connotations until out-argued by a three pronged attack from India, Marina and a very helpful shop assistant. Still, I should get some use out of it this summer, although I doubt I'll be able to say the same about the shoes I bought to go with it. They're pale dusty pink suede wedges with peep toes, and totally impractical, but the girls insisted they were absolutely necessary. I will have to spend the rest of the week practising how to walk around in them, but in any case will only put them on at the steps of the Savoy. There's no way I'm walking down to the station, and then teetering from King's Cross to the Strand in those shoes. I'll be taking them in a bag to change into at the last minute and wearing my sturdy sandals for the trip instead. It won't be a good look on the train, but as my mother was always telling me when I fretted about my appearance "nobody's looking at you, dear". (And then they wonder why we grow up with low self esteem ...)

See you at the Savoy next Friday, girls - I'll be the one trying very hard not to fall off my shoes.