I've been offered a three-day trip to Rome courtesy of a digital channel. That's lovely, but I've turned it down. I can't bear the thought of being on an enforced jolly with a load of media people I don't know. The last thing I feel like is whooping it up with a load of freeloading journos. Besides, I've recently been to Rome and super as it is I'm in no rush to go back.
These places where the media converge are really not my bag. I love seeing all my old journalist pals at launches and parties, and if it were any of them who were going, I'd probably do it. But it's not. Most journalists I know are of the same opinion as I am about this sort of thing. None of us would ever want to be members of Soho House or Shoreditch House or any of the private media-friendly clubs. That's where you go to interview people. It's not somewhere you want to go for fun.
I can't think of anything less relaxing than staying at Soho House's West Country outpost Babington House. Can you imagine the braying, the competition, the beligerent bar staff? A whole hotel full of Nathan Barley's and dreadful PR women networking furiously into the night. I don't want to be anywhere near these people.
Let's go to the pub.
