Blonde's Eye View: Me time

I feel like an attention deficit child desperately being entertained by eager godparents, while Mummy does the food shopping. What is this obsession with permanent contact?

Do they fear I will be consumed by paranoid jealousy as my man cavorts about Berlin dressed as a superhero or driven to suicide if I go without human interaction for 48 hours?

I see my work colleagues all week, live with my partner, and party with my mates whenever I want. I get enough human contact travelling on the Tube everyday thank you.

What is rare is having the flat to myself. It's like being a teenager with your parents away.

I want to watch trashy MTV shows my partner dismisses as juvenile. I want to read Vogue in silence. I want to colour co-ordinate my shoe collection.

I want a salad for dinner, and not have to soften it up with a side of man-friendly bacon.

Hell, I want to make like Tom Cruise in Risky Business and dance to loud music in my pants. In short: I want to selfishly, indulgently spend time with me.

I've told my friends I've already got plans, I don't need babysitting. They look relieved.

Now they can spend some quality time with their selves this weekend. If they're lucky they too might have an empty home to dance round.

Everyone should be encouraged to rest from the over stimulated environment we live in.

Embrace the opportunity to finish that book you've read in fits and starts on the DLR, or to lounge uninterrupted in the bath with a glass of wine.

Repeat after Greta Garbo, I vant to be alone.