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Lost Going Round Cape Horn, The Taxi and Depression.

I have been hopelessly lost with my book Summers Grace, which is a story based on George Anson’s epic voyage round the world in 1740 basically the hard way namely the north Atlantic the South Atlantic round Cape Horn and then the Pacific; starting too late in the year he nearly floundered on the Horn losing most of his fleet. Actually living this as I do, I think the ships in question deliberately lost him because they knew thing or two and it was totally insane. The trouble is that my work is so continually off the boil as a result of domestic interruptions, that I get back into it like someone with advanced disconvolvulation , whatever that is I cannot spell it. Of course the lack of Longitude was a major issue, the solving of which was eventually emolliated by one of the few survivors who gave Harrison all his prize money to finish his remarkable Longitude clock. I could do with one of those myself in this household I never know if I am coming or going or the time of day. But I am now firmly back in there, and we are approaching the coast of South America in fearful conditions. I turn the pages of one of the original copies of Anson’s log, my hands sweating in white cotton gloves, with awe. It is nice to be back though. The picture on my blog of Greenwich is where the clock now resides. My last book “Flora’s Glory” was not quite such challenge. The Court of William and Mary plus some fabulous gardens was a much less challenging subject matter.

Talking of journeys the Sainted One and moi went to a lovely dinner last night in CHELSEA, a rather vague lady asked if she could have a lift later , I told her that the SO would be the driver and it would be “very hit or miss” added to which I was a terrible passenger and screamed in terror most of the time, then the SO asked her where EATON SQUARE was exactly. She looked about frantically, liked a trapped animal, and then said she would rather take a taxi. A wise choice!

I have reason to know quite a lot about depression and therefore thank the good Lord each day that so far I do not suffer from this myself. The other day I sat between two very high achieving people who had it, but were now in the calm waters of recovery. They say nobody can understand the pain of it, like twenty televisions all turned on at once tuned into different programmes. You can only think that ending your life is the only way out. But believe me I do know, I also know the treatment of this terrible blight is an inexact science. But I would suggest that a holistic approach combined with conventional medication is not examined carefully enough. The body is such an astonishing phenomena a beautiful thing where no organ is independent of another. Nurse each bit of it until it mends it’s broken brain…….easier said than done.

I have seen many things recently a lot of them the creations of those who suffered depression, The Impressionists at the National Gallery, Noel Cowards Jewell Hay Fever and Alexander Mc Queens exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum, there is of course, something dark lurking in most of them.

The Chucking of Chuka, Moses lost in the Wilderness, and the Savaging of Farage.

Sir John Knott remarked to me, when I interviewed him pre Falklands that ninety percent of ministerial appointments end in disappointment and redundancy. How right he was, Chuka Umunna, has made a wise decision, he will go onto great heights in other spheres whilst keeping a well-dressed toe in Westminster. There is poor old Ed lost in the wilderness with his six commandments , unfortunately carved in stone, which must end up as a garden ornament. And don’t get me started on Nigel Farage, he may have become rather excitable, but give the Guy a break, he got an obscure party four million votes He expects gratitude but it is not going to happen, the party is over, he should know that and become a lofty sage financed by the European Parliament , but power corrupts.

Robert Montague is rather a nice person, but he misguidedly wrote a kiss and tell autobiography revealing the fact that his father a serving Member of Parliament abused him for four years when he was a child, as a result records at the time reveal that Dorset police dismissed the offences as “very mild” it would seem that the next step is to open the enquiry again. The damage this must have already caused to the Montague family must be enormous. It was back in the seventies, awful if correct but who is this serving, where is it going, it must be a case of posthumous revenge Montague junior should get over it? In life shit happens. Saville and all the kiddy fiddlers have opened a can of worms which must be pursued on behalf of people who have been largely forgotten, but powerful aristos have other ways of redress. I wonder if this was the right way to go about it, after all they have access to years of expensive private therapy.

I had an operation this week to straighten my finger as a result of Dupytron’s constrictor, the offending finger is now splinted in an erect position, a lorry driver went berserk yesterday while I sat benignly arm held up for comfort in the passenger seat of the Sainted One’s car on the way back from hospital. OMG. So it wasn’t the SOs driving.

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Steaming Vaginas, The Speakers Wife and Moses lost in Dartmouth Park.

Thank God for the “Times” , today it was hilarious the editorial team well on top of its game. Today I read that Gwyneth Paltrow (a celebrity) has been advocating steaming one’s Vagina. I was trying to work out exactly how to do this and concluded it might need the help of a third party and could not think who I could engage for this most ghastly of tasks. But thank heaven this has been as it were dismissed by the pundits, after all it breaches health and safety, not to say basic hygiene principles except as Baroness Trumpington said ref anal searches in the house of Lords…. “ only with rubber gloves and trained personnel “ (not the members)! It is in Hansard. Now back to Vaginal steaming , we are told that it is rumoured that the greatly loved Speaker of the House of Common’s wife Sally Bercow has been seeing a lot of her husband’s cousin, while her beloved was in his constituency during the election. He is married man with a family and I would like to submit that Mrs Bercow would never have been guilty of anything improper at such a time ….. when her husband’s job was on the line as it is he may be hung out to dry with her knickers, as it were. No people, she may have been a devout follower of Paltrow’s advice and needed a close and intimate relative to help her in order that she could welcome her adored husband home after his battles, fresh and fragrant as a virgin. Now what could be more innocent than that? Could one suggest that her husband could also be referred to by the popular word that describes the organ in question, if he does not have one or two unsavoury questions to ask or even cries of “odour, odour “ you know I really meant “ “order”, it was a metaphoric slip on my part.

Now for some sound common sense, our close friend Amber Rudd is rightly set for promotion to office in Cameron’s government. When asked if Dave’s attitude to Gay marriage might damage the vote in her constituency, she replied “ I doubt that people will be thinking about anal sex at that time.” I tell you she is like all her family, a super star. And I love the way that she does not do power dressing, no stilettos, and body hugging revealing stuff for her it’s all in the head , you get what you see.

Then there is the matter of Milliband’s column umm… lost in Darkest Dartford Park, of course it was incomplete only six commandments. Where has it gone Moses lost in the wilderness strikes me as a good thought.

The C Word, Panorama and “Cancer is My Teacher by Lucy O Donnell.

So the worst moment for a family is the diagnosis for the one you love . After that the family coasts on the shirt tails of the sufferer. In our case my daughter. Lucy took it head on and wrote a book “Cancer Is My Is My Teacher”, which is now a bible for people who get this horrible disease. We saw it all dramatized on BBC TV with startling reality in “The C Word ” This was a real story of bravery and the girl in the programme showed courage and optimism beyond words. Of course it did not have a happy ending, and left us all very emotional. Of course my daughter watched it and soon after wards sent me a link to a Panorama programme which revealed the exciting breakthrough in Cancer treatment form which my wonderful inspirational daughter is benefitting. She is now an ambassador for this new world of hope for sufferers and is raising thousands of pounds for research into the treatments which would have saved the girl in the BBC film. “Proud” hardly fits the bill it is so much more than that.