Except for reading all the papers first thing. And listening to the radio. And watching some TV bulletins. And keeping one ear twitched for gossip. Because there are some things a hack can't stop doing even on a day off when they've decided to concentrate on something else.
But OTHER THAN THAT the news can go hang for once, because there's something better happening - my book launch party!
Yeah, I know, who cares, right?
Except this is the end of a lot of hard work and I deserve a pint, frankly. It's taken me a little over three years to get the book written, signed and published, and for those as think these things happen by magic that was a hell of a lot of effort, on top of a fairly busy day job.
More importantly it's a chance for me to say thank you to as many people as possible who helped along the way, and buy them a drink too. From colleagues to mates, good friends, family and strangers on the internet, there are lots of people who've given the Foxy bandwagon a bit of a shove and they deserve a pint as well.
I know, I know. You didn't get an invite. Sorry about that but I couldn't fit you all in.
Instead I hope wherever you are you can have yourselves a pint too, and an internet clap-on-the-back from me in thanks. Have a party amongst yourselves if you can, and join in.
So's you know what you're aiming for, the party's being held at a very cool London club called Century in a room which looks like this:
No-one except Del Boy has a bar in the corner of the living room, but pile up a few empties by the sofa and it'll soon look exactly the same.
The dress code is 'tabloid chic' - and no, that doesn't mean Paul McMullan without the pen. On my first day at work as a reporter I was told you always had to dress like you might have to meet either the Queen, a grieving relative or a gangster. So wear something smartish, but not so's you look like a social worker or a copper. Pens are optional.
There will be many bottles of ginger beer from Palmers Brewery in Dorset, and quite a lot of Vladivar vodka to mix with it and make a drink we shall call a Foxtail. The recipe is 100ml ginger beer, 50ml vodka, 20ml lime juice, 15ml raspberry puree and 10ml sugar syrup, in a tall glass.
The more you drink, the pinker your kitchen gets. It's amazing. Give it a go.
A lorry has also very kindly delivered a SHEDLOAD of rather excellent Jura whisky.
There's a DJ called Chris Roots with strict instructions to play some Betty Boo, and live music by some actual musicians who write and perform their own stuff and get people up and dancing. I think they sing about carrots, too, but the Lucky Strikes assure me I'm hearing it wrong.
I'm going to the extreme effort, for a non-poncey girl, of getting my hair and make-up done by a nice lady called Katy who does weddings and stuff, if any of you are looking for someone to help out with that kind of thing.
I have a dress which requires heavy scaffolding, shiny new shoes, and a pen because for a slightly-inflated price I'll be signing copies of the book, with all the extra cash raised going towards the domestic violence charity Refuge. If you're coming and have a book already, bring it along, donate and I'll sign, and if you're at home then just have a little browse of the Refuge website and learn about something that too often gets ignored.
So, let's get this straight: Smartish clothes, booze, booze, some more booze, Betty Boo, big knickers, and a pen. It's like you're in the room, you're not missing a thing!
I could quote those poets of whimsy the Vengaboys, but I'll save it for the cab ride home. If you're coming, I'll see you there, and if you're not, then I'll see you tomorrow morning when I expect I'll feel something like this:
If you could leave some water out, that'd be grand.
