Not this week. Not only is it London Fashion Week, but the Oscars are on Sunday. I'll see you on the other side. Follow my stuff at Catwalk Queen until then. Maybe one day I'll get some sleep.

It's my fault. We watched an episode of Masterchef (where the wannabe chefs ended up at in-house restaurant Suka) and I mentioned that The Sanderson is my favourite hotel in all of London. It may look fairly unassuming from outside, but the Philippe Starck interiors make me want to rob a bank just so I can afford to deck out my flat the same way. The staff are all model-esque beautiful. The lifts are a talking point in themselves. The whole place is kitsch, ironic heaven. We're talking miles of curtain and glass, unexepected seating throughout, Venetian glass everywhere, lip-shaped sofas in the lobby and dark, light-show lifts that look like the solar system. I've been lucky enough to visit a few times for press events, but I've never seen what the rooms look like until this weekend.

Charles, being both brilliant and cunning, told me not to make plans for the weekend and arranged for me to be at Oxford Circus at 3.20pm. All I knew was I needed an overnight bag and a nice dress. It was only when I got into town that I learned the plan. He'd booked me in for an afternoon massage at my favourite hotel. When I was done, I was to phone him again for further instructions.

One heavenly (if thorough) aromatherapy massage later, I was pummelled and prodded to perfection and ready for the next bit. It turns out the boy had been happily ensconced in a room on the floor above for hours, watching the rugby and generally applauding himself for being able to to watch the peanut-hugging egg chasers and be a good boyfriend at the same time.

After I joined him, all over-excited grins and slightly sore back from the massage (I'm feeling the benefit now) we spent the rest of the afternoon drinking overpriced champagne on the sleigh-like king sized bed in our ridiculously decadent, glass-and-curtained room before a highly anticipated dinner at Suka.

That, I must admit, was one of the lower points of the weekend. Though the food was lovely (especially the pudding) it wasn't outstanding, and the atmosphere was busy, the music was loud and the staff were so attentive I wanted to tell them to get lost a couple of times. In short, it was nice, but not as nice as I've had elsewhere.

We finished with cocktails at the Purple Bar, a tiny but scarily opulent little hideaway reserved for hotel guests and people who know the right people. It was all tiny chairs, huge martini glasses and so many Venetian mirrors you didn't know where to look. It also had the bar of my dreams, with an entire wall lined with every cocktail ingredient you could ever imagine. I loved it.

Suka redeemed itself in the morning with breakfast. A buffet including banana bread is always a winner, and my eggs benedict were gorgeous...what's not to love about heart-attack inducing hollandaise?

I should finish off with a paragraph of schmaltzy talk of just how lucky I am to have someone who'd do this for me. But I hate 'isn't my boyfriend brilliant' people, I know he will already be embarassed enough by this (despite asking me countless times when I was going to write about him) and, quite honestly, my mentionitis is already bad enough. So I'll just say this instead...

Best Weekend Ever.

My first Twitter update was "Laughing at Katie's birdwatching geekdom" on January 16th 2007, on the CatwalkQueen Twitter. I wasn't an early adopter - Twitter launched in 2006 - but I have racked up a couple of thousand updates since that first one. The only thing that's changed is that I've moved to my own account, shinygemma, where my updates are slightly more frequent and a lot more irrelevant.

This week the anti-Twitter brigade have been out in full. Now that celebs like Stephen Fry, Phillip Schofield, Andi Peters and Jonathan Ross are spreading the word away from the geeks and the 'social media experts' (Kat can tell you more about them) everyone's jumping on the hate bandwagon. 'Twitter is for Twits' read one (predictable) headline in the Telegraph. Congrats to Bryony Gordon (or her sub) for pissing off 6 million people before even starting the article. That's a pretty good move, I bet the page views are through the roof.

The point is, while Twitter isn't for everybody, it's definitely not for twits, and I resent the fact people are getting paid to write articles where they moan about the fact it's just a glorified facebook status update application. Talk about lack of research. In the right industries, it's so much more than just a 'what are you doing' time waster.

Michael Litman got a job via Twitter. The Dogs Trust has managed to find new homes for dogs via informal Twitter chats. The British Red Cross currently has a team member visiting Sierra Leone and Liberia, where it's not exactly easy to jump on the internet and send an email or file copy. She is updating Twitter via text message. Not only do her colleagues and family know she's safe, but the public can see what she's doing out there and how their donations are helping people.

My followers list - though relatively small at about 350 - is a goldmine for me. If I need a quick opinion for an article, I tweet a question and get a dozen answers within minutes. I've been able to speak to people via Twitter who've never answered my emails before. I follow everyone from those much-publicised celebrities to celebrities in my own little world. My friend Emma, who used to send out half a dozen emails a day with links to interesting stuff she's found, now tweets her finds instead. Yesterday, when the company I work for had to make some (heartbreaking) redundancies, news was out in the industry within seconds, and all our Twitter pages were littered with @ replies and DMs from concerned parties. Twitter is the only place I still feel is full of nice, friendly people who genuinely want to share ideas, build relationships and help each other out.

Granted, Twitter is inherently an ego-driven tool for ego-driven people. But we're journalists, bloggers, PRs and so on. We're egotistical by nature (and often by necessity). When one of our own starts taking cheap shots at us for embracing a new communications tool, it just makes me think they're scared of what it'll mean for them.

As one very smart commenter on that Telegraph piece put it, "Twitter provides a place for people to write about what they are doing and what they think about things that matter to them. That so many people are taking the time to do so (and that so many people are reading the entries) must be of great concern to a journalist who gets paid to do the same thing."