"Yeah" - the Meg Mathews column"

Noel and I totally pushed the boat out for Hallowe'en. We transformed our Lutyens house in Bucks into The Rocky Horror Show, with pumpkins, spiders' webs and bats everywhere - it's a shame Keith from The Prodigy didn't turn up. The rest of the revellers included Sadie Frost and Jude Law (Sadie managed to restrain herself from lying on a stone slab in the garden), Jonny Lee-Miller, the make-up artist Jackie Hamilton-Smith and her fiance, Sean Pertwee (he was supposed to come as a dalek).

The new Oasis album, The B-sides, hit the streets last week [2nd November], so Noel and I had an early start on Monday. I was even more manic than usual last week - my left ear is actually sore from using the phone. Puff Daddy invited me to his birthday party in New York, but it's a bit of a hike for a piece of cake and a chance to wear my silver shell suit, so Noel and I ate Thai with Kate Moss and Alan McGee from Creation Records.

The next day, I had my roots done at Jon Frieda in Mayfair (in preparation for a Vogue shoot) before a meeting with Marco Pierre White's people. He has asked my company, 2-Active, to launch his new restaurant - it's top secret, and all I can say without fear of being made into a coulis is that it's called Titanic, its interior will feature original 1920s features, and it will be in Soho. Now all we have to do is get Leo on board.

I dashed straight from that to the opening of the new beauty hall in Selfridges. I was grubby and dishevelled, and so of course I was photographed next to Liz Hurley, who manages to look airbrushed in real life. I bumped into Normandie Keith and commented on her beautiful Fendi beaded baguette - which she promptly emptied of its contents and gave to me. Who needs a waiting list when you have great mates?

That night we had friends over for a takeaway, but unfortunately the pizza was cold and battered by the time we got it because the poor delivery boy had to use the box to fight his way through the phalanx of paparazzi camped outside Supernova Heights. The photographers are persistent but not that imaginative - they keep shouting through the letterbox that they're from the electricity board, but if one said he was from Domino's he would probably get bizzed in. One of the most annoying things about the flash cameras was that our cats, Benson, Hedgs and Rosie, thought it was Bonfire Night all over again.

I motored down to the country on Friday - the drive to the house is a quarter of a mile (that is, once you're inside the gates) and I can't wait until it is flanked by bluebells. Noel was out in the pouring rain all weekend playing on his seven-a-side pitch (I have a gym in each house; cellulite is not an option). We later snuggled up with the dogs in front of a roaring log fire to write our Christmas cards - we have a very long list. I've started planning the festive decor already. It's going to be wicked. Do you think Bjork would send snow from Iceland?

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c 1998 Andrew Turner

aturner@interalpha.co.uk

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