Cancer Research and Feathers

Last night I got a on the bus that Ken Livingstone put on especially for moi . I was on my way to Chelsea where I pretend that I live. Onto the bus got a voluptuous green parrot. He brought with him a most charming gentleman on whom he kept a firm eye and who he kept attached to him with an exotic silken chord. I say he, because I was introduced to the parrot and he told me his name was Victor. Actually I felt very empowered by Victor who resides in Somerset and doesn’t like London much. He flies about when he is at home and has many friends in the countryside . Sadly two of them were found hanging by their neck in my larder when I got back later . They were a present from one of my many sons in law. I am very pleased with them, and my grandson is going to make them presentable for Sunday Lunch. I am so glad I found them after I met Victor because I would have been embarrassed. I didn’t like to ask Victor what he did if he was taken short on the bus, but I did see some nervous looks, and wondered if public transport has a policy about parrots, of course they don’t tolerate abuse and Victor assured me he does not use bad language…. He would not be comfortable here then!

Buoyed up by this interesting encounter, I went to the Science Museum, with a most elegant and treasured friend of mine for the Launch of The Institute of Cancer Research’s DISCOVERY CLUB. This is to raise money for research into the kind of drugs which prophetically gave us the happiest news ever, which was, remission for my wonderful brave daughter who, although still requiring regular treatment is leading a great life. Maurice Saatchi gave a most moving address as did a wonderful girl talking about her mother . Believe me these are extraordinary people. The thing which shocks me is the horrible gap in time when drugs are available in America and the NHS drags its feet while it considers the financial pros and cons of getting it here as if it were the price of butter. In the end they get it, but at what cost ??? Think of the knock on effect of family loss, I know about this, I work in bereavement.

There has been no mention of the dead birds in the larder from the Sainted One, he is too preoccupied with the restoration of the dishwasher “mind games”, but Beatrice and Mollie are in a frenzy .

“Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est” Must fly am researching effluent in 1740.

Sounds like a good job opportunity!

This is on the servants entrance of my Grandfather’s house, I don’t think it would work in the overcrowded semi-detached in Lambeth!

The Creation and Haydn

When my grandson gets home I am going to post a picture of me when asked what’s for lunch. He is still trying to tell me how to do it . Last week I went to a performance of Haydn’s Creation given by Trinity Laban College of Music and Dance at the Royal Naval College Greenwich. My divine and kind son, who makes me laugh a lot, because he has a ridiculous sense of humour came with me, because he is an alumni of said college. It was a moving and inspiring evening and I am proud to say I had more than a little to do with its conception. To be in the presence of so many young people singing and playing their hearts out. It was a brilliant choice of work because Haydn saw the wondrous birth of the world with pure beauty and these young people illustrated all that is best in human nature . When Adam and Eve emerge into their garden of Eden and Eve says IT is WONDERFUL they carried the emotion exquisitely and none of them had a score!!!! I cried, I don’t often do that.

The whole event refreshed my faith in human nature, as music is meant to do. Young musicians should be nurtured like the jewels they are, without them what are we? We are a philistine country, music in schools should be sacrosanct, it would save a fortune in mental health care and the prescribing of anti-depressant drugs which make you want to chuck yourself out of a window … but don’t get me started on that.

Hugo Boss and the Mink Jock Strap

So before 10 am I am already apportioned two large slices of the blame cake. The dishwasher was fixed at approx. 7 30this morning , the problem was fat in the waste, gobs of it such as we have in our arteries if we don’t take statins or so I am told? The Sainted One was thrilled by this “didn’t I tell you, all your fault” he announced. More about that later maybe, elaboration on this point and the rinsing lecture was brought to a halt when he received an urgent phone call.

Following this, an ashen face came round the door and I was accused of attempting to purchase eight hundred pound worth of items from Hugo Boss (a men’s clothier) on the internet, and charging them to his credit card account. “Mea culpa,” I cried, “it was the mink Jock strap I got for you for Christmas.” I mean after all you know what they say about Father Christmas . This was not considered amusing, I am glad though, that this attempted expenditure was flagged up as unusual. At least he could not be buying the “after lunch handbags,” which men feel obliged to buy for married ladies, they wish to take to a hotel room. I know someone who has many of those, she gets the bag first, and then fails to deliver; she tells me the going rate though is more like a thousand. Makes you think doesn’t it. I suppose it’s all about having the balls.

Quakers and Quarrels

I am so glad I was brought up as a Quaker. My father was a convert and we lived in Jordans, which was then, a pure Quaker community. Kindness and tolerance were ubiquitous. Self-esteem was a community thing you were part of it, and if it worked, you worked. The real world outside, when I ventured into it, was a wicked place, another planet … but my Quaker childhood gave me, for sure, a resilience with which to survive the slings and arrows of life , some of which, I fear, good people …be warned, will be launched from a surprising source. As they say, “low self-esteem is catching, you get it from your children.”

The Obama’s two beautiful clever daughters are being educated by the , that merry go round of “blame the parents,” a marvellous excuse for your own bad decisions will not be on the agenda . Quakers don’t do that. Neither do we take Communion, but I worship in an Anglican church, and it is inclusive and welcoming . Of such stuff is the new Archbishop of Canterbury made. Things are looking good at the moment . I don’t know who writes the script of “Homeland” in which the future Vice President of America is a secret Muslem and whose children( in the story) attend the Quaker school the Obama’s chose for their daughters, watch this space because if I were writing it, the Quaker connection would be interesting … perhaps it has a happy ending? My father became a Muslem in the twenties when he lived in Iran, there were few opportunity’s to pursue this when he returned to England; he became Quaker because he found many similarities.

The Saint with whom I reside claims to be a very peaceful person, this may be so and it is true outside the home he is totally non-confrontational but his domestic affairs reveal a darker side I mean some of the things he says to the family dogs are quite unrepeatable. He would not be a good Quaker. However, I am a model of tranquillity and acceptance, tolerance should have been my second name. If you believe that you will believe anything. By the way I am told that Beatrice, the Spaniel has reached maturity although I can’t quite see how that conclusion has been arrived at , so, she is no longer allowed on the Sainted One’s lap, I think it is sad, I know how that feels, says she bitterly, that kind of rejection is hard…I blame the BBC for this. ENOUGH COMMAS FOR YOU ?

Arms or No Arms

Michelle Obama has , as I have already said very beautiful arms which she has often shown us to great effect, recently she has kept them covered, thus keeping her best card close to her chest. But Mrs Biden is not in her first flush of youth and should not make a feature of hers. We have seen a lot of them recently and it is not a good look. But this is only a small criticism of the team effort which has given our hero Obama another crack of the whip.

And while on the subject of arms, the missile sort, which is what a lot of the American election seems to be about, why is the Times Newspaper so very negative about the result of the US election? What has got into them? Were they seriously hoping for “Bomber Romney” in the White House . I know Lambeth, where we live, had a sign up once which assured us that we were entering Lambeth “A Nuclear Free Zone”…. But all the same world war three would not be a good idea. I have enough of these in my own enormous tribal family, and am inevitably blamed for all manner of problems, even when I am blamelessly sitting at my desk for hours on end writing about men in codpieces and not partaking in the silly email war. My characters fight wars of course, because I am sad to say men are very aggressive … But these people are within my control, I am presently thinking about drowning one of them, a seriously bad person of course. You see the joy is, I can do with them whatever I please. But this lot, no way, this emotional octopus grows more and more legs, like a giant Velcro snowball. The tribe splits into opposing sides, all convinced of their own rectitude even when confronted with hard facts which prove otherwise, this is very important to keep up the momentum as simple solutions would be so very last year . People are lobbied by self appointed team leaders, who have a marvellous way of initiating conversations with “this is Confidential and nobody else knows” when you know dam well you are number twenty in the bush telegraph. All this puts the presidential election campaigning in the shade. My father once said to my little brother “when faced with an angry woman Charles, grovel that’s the only thing to do.” I don’t know if he was right or not , there is not a lot of grovelling round here . I think in my previous incarnation I was a very lowly slave. I am cancelling the Times if they go on like this. The Sainted One has just informed me that, when a picture fell from the wall and smashed, l while I was on one of my recreational trips to Sainsbury’s to get more Gin, that it was all my fault … OK OK its all my fault, anything you say, the whole belly lot of you, yes, I did it or I could have stopped it, whatever …… got to go now…. one of my people is giving birth. She should have thought about the consequences before she got herself banged up ……it won’t get any easier, the midwife has just come with a birthing hook.