Christmas Round Robin the Enemy of Promise, Did Head come from America,Life Beyond the Screen.

One or two people send us those painful “self serving” round robins about their own and their families achievements plus the odd sensational health detail. The most recent we received was so unintentionally hilarious that I took it to very thespian and hysterical lunch where we took it in turns to read it out (with graphic innuendo of course) to a delighted audience. It is now doing the rounds to great acclaim. The bits about editorship of the local parish magazine are particularly popular. I tried to think of what I would put in my own to beef it up a bit and couldn’t think of anything. Really people should not do this it makes them look so smug.

At the same lunch we talked about the sexual desires of men and it was decided that American men, for some reason, like to go down the Clinton road, well you all know what I mean. One of the women pointed out that it was a good way of getting the whole thing done and dusted quickly, so that you could get on with more serious things like shopping and failing your nails. One of them then suggested that “head” came from America like burgers and other fast foods, I am very quick you know so I got the vernacular.

The girls at the at the Sainsbury’s check out are convinced I run a hotel, the mountain of food in this house has now reached industrial proportions, the Sainted One came with me on the latest trip, which redeemed him from the appalling remark earlier in the day, when being treated to one of my sweet and dazzling smiles, for which I am so renowned and beloved, he commented, that it was nice to see a smile on my face for a change. Things were very frosty here after that. I am sure the accompaniment to the shopping trip was also to check that we are not running an illicit trade in what is known as toilet cleaner, my assistant in these matters writes it on the list all the time. This set me thinking about the horrible public evisceration of the gorgeous Nigella. Frankly anyone who spends all their time in a kitchen, even if it is in a studio would have to get buzzed up on something. Kitchens are fine, but at the moment food is all everyone here thinks about food all the time and sometimes I think I might run amok with the mixer. …… Nigella is just like everyone else after all people will love her even more because the goddess has feet of clay.

In a gathering of people the other day, I was the only one not having cyber sex with an i phone, I say that advisedly of course. It was a very dull thing to be with these people who were involved in what is really a kind of cerebral masturbation, in other words a party for one, which occasioned little laughs and gestures . Eventually one of them looked up irritated by my annoying attempts to engage them in a a more social kind of intercourse, and asked my in a patronizing way, why on earth I did not have a proper phone and a tablet, and suggested it was time I got into the real world. I left and got a bus in which I had an attack of vertigo because I had to go upstairs, there was no doubt people thought I was drunk. Life is just not fair.

Breaking Bad, Breaking Leg, Breaking Hearts and Give Us a Break.

The wonderful grandson got home from university with a broken leg, he told the Sainted One that he had sustained it playing football. The truth was quickly revealed to the beady, seen it all grandma……. It involved something quite different in which a wall played a significant part. Boys will be boys, and at was the first term after all. He is way up there in the popularity stakes offering to pack all the Christmas presents whilst in the recumbent position. This is an almost industrial challenge. The Nipote came and agreed with my son that he thought I repeated myself quite a lot, apparently I ask people if they have been watching Breaking Bad. He then suggested that we have a Breaking Bad Quiz on Boxing day, I thought this was very amusing, he has a very drole sense of humour. ( yes spelling freak, out there I know that is probably the wrong spelling but shove it actually, because half the world is Dyslexic, and a lot of them like moi are writers.) We have editors you see, and after all they have to have something to do … “it is the duty of the noble man” etc … and snotty grammar policeperson ,you will know the next line of that won’t you ?… Clue is Bellock, you see how easy I made it for you. That’s the give us a break bit.

Now the breaking hearts bit, you will see the picture of my God daughter Summer Watson who sings like an angel you can listen to her on the internet. She broke a lot of hearts when she chose to live in L A. Before she went she made one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful CDs I have ever heard. Sometimes I think my own heart might break when I think of the challenges that face some of my beautiful children, I thought my heart would break when all my family died when I was young and I had a serious row with God. I said all I wanted was a family, and go look what you have done. He answered in a rather obscure way, as he does, by saying “ You want family , I will give you family , so many you will stop counting.” That’s what he did and I thank him for it…….. but I don’t understand how it all works.

The Sainted One does not talk about things like that, personal conversations are a no go area, but it’s necessary even for him to have an emotional, outlet and there is war at the moment, with the squirrels again. I greased the bird table stand to keep them off, but all that happened was that the dog licked it off and got a splintered tongue. I am of course responsible in some way for the unreasonable behaviour of all the wild life in our garden.

On Monday I took time out to have lunch with a very glamorous and clever woman whose life is so different from my own, it was very refreshing to get into another perspective, she has a forensic brain and a formidable memory. I trotted out the “Oh what tangled webs we weave when first we labour to deceive lines,” she finished it “ but when we’ve practised for a bit then we get quite good at it.”

We were talking about truth, that’s what she has to ferret out of people. You see Politicians always end up believing their own bullshit and so do people in witness boxes. Nelson Mandela did not, but his memorial was not fitting for so great a man. The ghastly “selfie” featuring three of our leaders is an example of bullshit what was Dave thinking? Kinnock’s daughter in law would not know any better but Dave, what kind of planet are you on? Perhaps they  were they all affected by the Nigerian nut case who was supposed to be signing for the deaf. Rumour has it he comes from Neasden, but this is no excuse.

Angels are Everywhere, Matron Fourth Floor, and Male Grooming

There is a campaign in our family which has to be won, it involves the welfare of one of my beautiful granddaughters, and is being orchestrated by her fierce mother, of who I am very proud. Of course we need lots of money to get her the right advocate, because really good people are often assumed to be quite capable of looking after themselves. There was a meeting this week where many angels were present in a variety of forms. One was an astonishing man, who exudes some sort of genius, which I often find in the Jewish race. Of course I say this because it is true, and also because my family has its share of Jewish genes which have stood me in very good stead along with my many failings. On the day this meeting took place we all mistook the address, and being rather late ended up in a a suburban area of London a long way from our destination. I found a mini cab, driven by a softly spoken Caribbean gentleman who got me there in the nick of time. He said he took special care because I looked exactly like his mum. He was of course another angel,(you will all get how lovely that was); there are more of them about at the moment. Some of them do not like to be seen.

Recently we have been receiving a lot of cold calls at a most inconvenient time, when we are all enjoying the first vodka of the day…. I have found a way of dealing with their persistence. Here is an illustration.

Northern male voice says,“Can I speak to John?” indicating an intimate acquaintance… Moi replies, “who is this?” “Pete” says northern voice. “What is this about?” says Moi in an abrupt and disproving way. “I am not at liberty to divulge this at the present time ,” says Pete pompously.“The person to whom you wish to speak is on a resuscitation machine,”explains Moi. “I am the nurse in charge , are you a relative? Do you wish me to remove the oxygen mask in order that you can speak to the patient he is indicating that he does not want this. But if you are the relative he wants to speak to, who has just arrived from South America, he might be able to say a few words. But he is not in a good way at the moment.” Silence from Pete and then after further enquiries from nurse Pete says in a note of desperation, “Oh God know please don’t ,” and then a click. I have also got this down to a fine art with unknown callers on the mobile phone, it goes like this. “Matron speaking, Cardiac unit fourth floor .” This always does the trick. Just shows the power of the matron. There is just one problem of course, the Sainted One is not always up to speed with the conversations here complained  rather crossly last night, that people will begin to think he is not very well. I am writing to Dear Mary on the Spectator about this.

We went to a very lovely dinner last night, which was a most beautiful lady’s thank you to all her friends who had supported her through a very difficult time. I sat next to a jolly man, most beautifully dressed, in clothes he had chosen which would look appropriate for a very busy day (he showed me the “print out” of his dairy done by his secretary). As you will all know I have a son who works in fashion, and consequently I am very aware of a well dressed man. I complimented my neighbour on his tie and shirt, thinking anything more might be bordering on vulgar. He was very pleased and showed me his trousers, which had a raised seem which was most fetching. We then began to discuss male grooming and he did a head count of the distinguished representatives of the male race, (and I say race advisedly,) around the table, of which there were fifteen. To my shock and horror, he pointed out that only one half of them had removed their nasal and ear hair. I had met a kindred spirit … what is wrong with Englishmen of a certain age? I bet the men in the times I write about were horrible in that respect, God knows what they kept under their codpieces. Ladies of course, often put a nice steak in their bustles to defect the fleas. We talked about that.