When I wake up each morning the first thing I see is a flamingo standing at the end of my bed. Last year when I rushed downstairs on Christmas morning (I am still a complete child when it comes to Christmas) I saw a lifesize flamingo standing beneath the fairy and bauble bedecked tree. Of course there were no prizes for guessing who it was for, but I still read the tag tied around its neck.
"To Libby, who loves pink, from her Mum who is very proud of her." I had just finished writing Love Pink, so for me Clive the flamingo (as I instantly christened him - goodness only knows why, but I think it rather suits him) will always remind me of the amazing six months I spent producing the book. I have a dream in which I am the editor of some fabulous magazine. In this dream I have an office with a huge desk and white apple mac, stylish chairs and a glass coffee table covered in magazines. There are pink and organge gerberas smiling from slender black vases, and a gorgeous trench coat and Mulberry handbag hanging from a hat stand. But look into the corner of the room, and there is Clive the flamingo.
Libby
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