Borough and Bermondsey brought new flavour to the afternoon – hip and happening.

As we headed across Southwark Bridge my stomach gave a faint gurgle and I wondered if it had gone unnoticed or whether I should acknowledge and excuse it. I was near the end of my day with a German client, over from Stuttgart for 12 hours in the hope of finding an apartment. He being a thorough sort of chap, we had a broad remit. Via email we’d narrowed down the areas: Kensington, Chelsea, Notting Hill, Holland Park, Primrose Hill, Borough and Little Venice. (As a relatively new resident of LV, I must caution against proselytising it.)

José Ignacio is the spot for my client, benefiting from solitude yet moments away from South America’s most understated glamour.

Hola, mi amigo!” The voice sounded familiar. “Mi amigo, wait!” I turned and saw Quentin, aka The Thesp, who works with me as a consultant, referring business; he knows tutto il mondo. His life is peripatetic, as he flits through the Mediterranean on friends’ yachts during the summer, arrives in Los Angeles for pilot season ever hopeful, then perhaps a stint in Aspen but always London in June and for most of the year – it’s such a convenient setting-off point. He is a professional guest. Not only does he sing for his supper – quite literally if required – he also charms the hostess and interests the hosts, all the while shielding them from any duds that may be in their group. Why the proverbial acting big break has eluded him, I’m not sure, but now in his mid 50s he’s settled into this new role.