Free evening in Vancouver.

Snow coming down hard. I will probably eschew the sights and stay indoors in my incredible hotel, the Metropolitan, instead. The light switches are huge, and so is the bed. Minibar, fruitbowl, swimming pool (not in my room), mirrors on every possible surface, who could ask for more? I am tipping anyone who so much as looks at me. The limo driver turned it down. He is actually taking me in a stretch limo to the airport tomorrow, because that's what the people he is picking up next have ordered. This is not the most surreal thing that has happened to me on tour. That prize probably has to go the talkshow I was on this afternoon. The guest before me was an Olympic gold medalist (at least I assume so; he said "I won the Olympics", and I am assuming he doesn't mean in a raffle.) Then I come on. I mentioned how much I loved the Canadian kids' programme The Littlest Hobo when I was growing up, and they made me sing the theme tune on air. By the time I left, everyone was singing it, make-up girl, cameraman, the works.

Still loving Canada. Canadians are fantastic. I'd move here if they'd let me. I have never felt so calm anywhere. It has to be the least pushy country on earth. I have heard Canadians called boring but that's only by people who mistake shouting for interesting. I don't only believe this because my book has gone top 10 here. I should mention that I have met one unpleasant Canadian, a sleazy bookseller who only looked at my breasts as we talked. Aside from that it has been a very successful trip.

Now if you'll excuse me I have an appointment with the minibar.