Matt Lucas Lookalike bows out of The Apprentice

Feisty little bank manager Kevin Shaw was given the boot this week after telling Clinton Cards' buyer that he was as bad as George Bush if he didn't embrace his team's flawed concept of environmental greetings cards.

The teams had to devise a card opportunity and pitch it to three card companies. Both came up with a fairly lame solution: the dreadful Michael was pushing a Singles' Day card, and Matt Lucas lookalike Kevin the green card.

I actually think a Singles' Day card would be a neat idea, but not on Feb 13th when all the card retailers are rubbing their hands in glee and preparing to fleece us for Valentine's Day.

Kevin and team got rail roaded into the environmental idea by the pushy and charmless Jenny, even though, as she told a card buyer in one of the pitches, she has cut down on the number of cards she buys "for environmental reasons."
It was very strange that Jenny didn't end up in the boardroom, seeing as it was her daft idea that lost them the task anyway. Somehow they all turned on the quiet member of the team, Sara, although I distinctly remember her suggesting an Ide card, and that would have been a far better idea. I have looked for Diwhali cards, for example, and there are very few. Eastern European opportunities for cards must be significant.

Sara managed to survive but her days look numbered, particularly as the boys seem to be ganging up on her. I was warming towards Lee, a straight talker who was showing some promise, (and has played a blinder in so far being invisible in all the tasks) but then he started bullying Sara at the end of the programme. I even warmed towards Raef who defended her. What a gentleman.

Michael did not impress me in the least. There were two incidents that made me dislike him intensely. In the boardroom, he became very petulant, like a spoilt child, when chastised by Sir Alan. It was almost as if he was back in the nursery and had forgotten who was talking to him. Then, when he heard his team had won, he started yelping aggressively like a football hooligan. Most inappropriate. Margaret's face was a picture.

I think Sir Alan has warmed to Claire, who has improved leaps and bounds since her dressing down a fortnight ago. Having been leader for two tasks, she must be in a strong position now unless she messes up.

Street dentistry

It seems the latest craze of reality TV, in which the hapless public is the star, is programmes like Embarrassing Illnesses and Street Doctors. Having switched off Embarrassing Illnesses after about 5 minutes, when I realised that people who weren't going to their GP were instead being goaded into stripping off in front of millions of viewers, I was channel hopping today when I was gobsmacked to see another version on BBC1, Street Doctors.

We'll obviously see lots more in this genre so here's a suggestion for the programme-makers. Street Dentists. With the chronic shortage of NHS dentists, I imagine they would be queuing round the block for free dentistry, and what a spectacle it might make. Back to medieval times with crowds milling to watch extractions (thrillingly done without anaesthetic!).

If this turns up on Five in the next few months, I'll direct them here so I can claim my royalties.

Who cares about the Rich List?

The Sunday Times posted its much publicised Rich List again today. Goodness it comes round fast. Bits of info had been leaking for weeks. Sir Paul McCartney is really worth £100 million more than the court was told. Outrageous! (Not). Personally I am very sceptical about these so-called rich lists because part of the secret of success of...er...the rich...is that they squirrel their money away offshore and in investments, and I doubt if even Philip Beresford can get to the true bottom, so to speak, of Sir Paul's fortune.

Does anyone find this old tosh interesting? They somehow concocted a story for the main paper along the lines of "the rich get richer under Labour." Your point is? It does seem odd perhaps but the Labour Party of today bears no relation to the Labour Party of 20 years ago.

It would be far more relevant, and jolting, to see the Poor List. Shock the complacent Sunday Times readers to the core by showing how a lot of people are forced to live on a pittance.

Primitive marketing drives me round the bend

They say an Englishman's home in his castle, and I couldn't agree more. I would be more than happy to have a drawbridge and moat so that I could stop people leafleting the house at all hours of the day.

I had a real Victor Meldew moment today as I surveyed the detritus that makes up most of the post. I'd just spent a good half an hour de-cluttering the house. Considering there are only two of us, there is a lot to de-clutter! John's running gear and associated apparatus (water bottles, heart rate monitor, sheets of paper with stretching exercises, safety pins) seem to find their way all over the house. My hobby - scrapbooking and painting - also extends beyond the lean-to and you find buttons and glitter dust in the most unlikely places.

Anyway, I digress. Having done the de-cluttering, the post then arrived. For those who work at home, a pleasant milestone in the day. (Particularly if accompanied by the doorbell ringing, which means a nice parcel to open). Well, I had a subscription magazine; good, but it came in a plastic bag with several of those wretched inserts. A Lakeland catalogue. A Boden catalogue. More plastic, a whole sheaf of inserts from Lakeland, order forms, vouchers. Sheesh, why do these people still send me catalogues when they should KNOW they I only order online? Why are companies' marketing methods still so primitive? And both of them are always sending out new catalogues, as do Toast, whose "tastefully" lit catalogue is so gloomy the clothes look foul.

Then there was a letter from the bank. Apparently I have been chosen (along with millions of others) to be upgraded to some new type of account, which, reading between the lines, is just them promoting their call centre (which I already use) and having people interrogate me every time I enter the branch about why I haven't yet spoken to my "personal banking manager." Not to mention someone from the call centre ringing me and trying to talk me into loans, ISAs or whatever else they're trying to flog.

I noticed the letter gave a number to call if you didn't want to take advantage of this new service so I rang it. It took me to the call centre. Ideally, I should have been able to signal my "NO THANKS" by either entering some numbers into the phone, on my online bank account, or by ringing a number which was automatically answered by the "no thanks" person. Even better, I should have been offered the chance to opt in or opt out. But again, it's just poor marketing.

And while I'm ranting, I'll tell you another thing that makes me mad. MORI amd Gallup, the poll people, keep sending people round with clipboards to do surveys. They have called twice now about getting us to do a survey on buying new cars. It's quite hard to get rid of them, as if it's our duty to speak to them. One of them very indignantly said "we do pay you know,". I don't care what they're paying: I'm not divulging lots of private information which then goes God knows where.

Lucinda gets a stay of execution

The Apprentice
Ever since we first saw Lucinda, looking as if she was going to a wedding in a pink coat and hat, I knew she would not be progressing. As the challenges unfolded, poor Lucinda seemed completely miscast, unable to do sales, unable to use a PC. Was there anything she could do?

Well, last night we learnt that Lucinda can manage. And God knows,it's a rare enough skill among the rest of the candidates. She was calm, organised and managed to motivate her team. She made sure that she had a #2, allegedly with sales expertise, who was Lindi. Lindi went off with Raef and Jennifer to pre-qualify leads and attend the sales meetings.

It was clear as the programme progressed that Lindi and Jennifer were being set up for ultimate disgrace and failure. They were constantly crowing about what a great team they were and how they were on a roll. So it was quite amusing to find that they'd lost, and that three of their meetings were with firms who had their own ice-cream maker (the challenge was to supply a new range of ice creams to London).

Claire, she of the meaty arms, was very lucky to win the challenge, given that she and her sub-team were utter flakes when it came to pre-qualifying leads and setting up sales meetings.

With Claire's victorious team out of the way, it was easy enough to see that risk assessor Lucinda was actually at no risk of being fired. Cruel, chilly Jennifer and dozy, naive Lindi were definitely in the firing line. Jennifer remained because she (allegedly) has sales expertise, although that it debatable given her predilection to give exclusivity deals on a whim.

Of the rest of the candidates, Raef showed remarkable restraint and was lucky to emerge unscathed after being tethered to Lindi and Jennifer. Lee is beginning to show some class. "Hoorah" I thought, as he spoke up for Lucinda. Most unlike treacherous sneak Alex, who had views about Claire's mananagement style but was too cowardly to air them.

The other candidate who stands out for the wrong reasons is Helene, a fierce, rude woman who quite obviously lies. I have to believe Lucinda, and not Helene, when she said that Helene had called Jennifer a snake in the grass. I bet she did!

Some more of the old random

Went to Swindon yesterday (and another visit tomorrow, Holy God!) and the random thoughts were whirling round my head like those of Julie Christie's character in Away From Her (quite good BTW but a very rose tinted view of Altzheimer's).
Firstly there was the excitement of seeing a Norbert Dentressangle lorry, even if it did cut me up in a piece of thoughtless driving on the M25 (would not have happened with Bailey's equine horse feeds, I fancy). Pictured is the very gent himself, Monsieur Dentressangle. Doesn't he look twinkly? Not your usual old haulier, methinks.

Seems to be a landmark week for wimmin's rights. Just when I was thinking there were no more rights to be won, I hear that an MP is tabling a Commons motion to get the constitution changed so that the monarch's first born becomes the heir, regardless of sex. When you think about it, it is absolutely preposterous that a woman would have to stand aside, as first born, in this day and age!

Then I heard that some stuffy old "Real Tennis" club has finally agreed to accept women after a long battle, on the grounds that the wretched sport will die out unless they can encourage younger players - which includes women. Amazing.

I was thinking about the London Marathon too. For several years I have stood in wind, rain and boiling sunshine watching J run his many international marathons (and some less glamorous, like the Grunty Fen half marathon). Well, on an impulse, I have entered the ballot for next year's marathon. Another Holy God is called for here. I am not a natural runner; I have a strange gait (I somehow tiptoe), but after watching the marathon last weekend, I noticed that even some of the fast runners have a strange gait. Plus, I want to get fit; losing weight becomes harder as you get older and I want to live to a ripe old age, whizzing around with no need of a zimmer. So this week alone, I have hauled my weary carcass out three times and have nearly reached the 5k milestone.

The Apprentice tonight. Yippee. It's still hard at this stage to separate the field, although I do know that the despicable Claire, upon whose hefty arms a family of four could easily be fed for a week, for a week, needs to go, as does the treacherous Alex. Alex with a chip on his shoulder about nowt being posh, who thinks he's playing such a clever game by refusing to be no 2 last week, lest he end up getting the blame if the task was lost. Tsk, so transparent. The only two who seem to have any ounce of business sense about them are regrettably Rafe, although he's surely too posh and smooth for Sir Alan, and the bloke with the stubble and piercing blue eyes who took the photos last week for the winning team.

And then finally there was my dream. Ken Livingstone called at our house, canvassing! Well Ken, you'd be on a hiding to nothing where I live (as Boris friendly a place as you could get), though you can count on my vote because in my view Boris is Bonkers. Anyway, in my dream, being the true scrapbooker that I am, I called for J to take a photo of me and Ken together so that I could scrap the momentous moment!

Bluebell Field

I haven't seen a field of bluebells since I was a child. But, thanks to an article in Homes & Gardens, which mentioned how you can locate a bluebell field courtesy of the Woodland Trust, I was determined not to miss out this year.

As luck would have it, John actually saw a bluebell field on his run in the forest this morning. As we turned the corner, and it came into view, it was a breathtaking sight, a deserted and hidden glen of blue stretching as far as the eye could see. And the wonderful thing was there was no-one else there, except for an elderly couple who visit the bluebell wood every year and have done since the old boy was a child.

Heart warming achievements

Well done to everyone who took part in the London Marathon, from the supreme elite athletes at the front to the fun runners/walkers at the back. John did well, finishing within his four hour window, and his "posse," a group of ladies from the Orion Harriers he has been coaching, all did extremely well, one of them steaming past him in the final mile. The posse were kind enough to give me a bunch of flowers later, but it was them who did all the hard work. I've had a lot of fun hearing about the training from John and some of the exchanges:
- "Can we start at 8.30am instead of 8 and can we do 14 miles instead of 18?"
- "Who's going to tell John?"
During the downpour, as I anxiously scanned the thousands of runners to spot John, a mile from Tower Bridge, I expatiated on the nature of running. Running creates special people. We all know the health benefits; we read about it everyday as the fat idle journalists lambast Britain for obese teenagers, transfats, drinking wine in pregnancy, large measures of wine and type 2 diabetes. But what I have discovered is that once running gets into the pysche, people not only become fitter but they become more well rounded; more advanced as people.
I got talking to a 75 year old veteran member of the Orion Harriers, Ken, who has run all 27 London Marathons. I asked him if he would be having a rest period now (even J does) but he laughed and said no, he would be doing a swimming marathon for charity later this week.
And then you consider Buster, the 101 year old, running a marathon at his age. Amazing when most teenagers could not even contemplate it.
I suddenly started to feel guilty, that I've always been half hearted when I've tried running, and decided that I should try again. With that in mind, I'm now signed up for the Adidas women's challenge 5k in September. Three miles is hardly anything, and I could probably do it now, albeit very slowly, but I hope the race experience will spur me on to better things. It would be very cool to run London next year and have John enduring the misery of being a spectator for once!

The Apprentice: who let the dunces out?

I found this week's episode of The Apprentice a bit boring. They had to do a lunch and dinner service at a pub. I was so gobsmacked at the inept performance of the boys' team that it took the shine off the whole programme for me. Surely they have watched previous series? They didn't have one iota of business acumen. They were printing flyers before they had even properly costed their menu, and not just how much they would charge for each item but their costing on profits v overheads. They then went scurrying off to Tesco several times, instead of going to a wholesaler or negotiating a deal with a local shop.
The guy that got voted off was so dull and bland I can't even remember his name.

Terminal 5 a pleasant experience

I wrote disparagingly about Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport recently, following the baggage handling debacle. I thought it was a pity that this had overshadowed the new terminal and the fact it opened on schedule and on budget.
Well, having now passed through T5 on the way to San Francisco, I'm pleased to report it was a very pleasant experience.
I flew out on Sunday when there was quite a heavy (for London) snowfall, and this in itself presents difficulties. As the pilot put it, "the UK doesn't do snow very well." So we did get delayed on the runway for some time while they did the de-icing, but I have been delayed at Munich for the same reason in the past and they are good at snow.
I took hand luggage to avoid any baggage delays, but Anonymous did check in luggage and it was despatched on the carousel 10 minutes after we landed.
As far as the building itself is concerned, very light, airy and spacious. There is a policy of only making announcements for the final call, so it's surprisingly tranquil. It's quite similar to Munich's new(ish) Lufthansa terminal, and better in some respects (there are several shops at the gate!) but the money spent on the finish - for example Munich's marbled floors - is obviously nowhere near as much.
It's not a place to be if you don't like escalators. We had to go down several on arrival back from the US, and my brain is still trying to figure that out.
One very positive thing is the friendliness of the staff, both BA's and those in the airside shops. I bought some headphones in Dixon's and they offered to charge the battery while I waited for my flight. I observed that BA's staff, while under huge pressure (a lot of short haul flights had been cancelled because of the snow) were unfailingly courteous and friendly even though a lot of people were shouting and frowning. There is even someone on board the minibus from the long term car park to help with your bags.
And of course the best thing of all is that there are none of the lurid, psychedelic carpets that the rest of Heathrow inflicts on us!

The boys get the girls in a spin

The Apprentice UK - episode two

In last night's Apprentice we were treated to a new task - running a laundry - and the girls were unceremoniously taken to the cleaners by the boys.

In a complete turnaround from the first programme, the girls' team, led by the dogmatic and bossy Jenny, came across as inept, blundering and divided. They didn't do the most basic of research - like ringing a laundry to get an idea of prices - and consequently demanded just under five thousand pounds for a job which would normally cost around two hundred. They didn't even learn from that but then grossly under-charged for doing the contents of someone's entire wardrobe for a tenner.

Shazia, who was fired,(pictured top right)came across as quite organised and efficient at the start of the show, devising a process for identifying the laundry. Essential for the girls, who were getting their custom mostly from individuals. Unfortunately for Shazia, her suggestion to leave early to secure the irons back at the house was agreed by Jenny (they should have sent someone else), and the process promptly fell apart so that several items of clothing got mixed up.

It came as a surprise to Shazia, and those in the audience of the "You're Fired" programme that she went; however, as Michelle Mone pointed out, it's all down to boardroom survival, and she was pathetic in the boardroom. Jenny was very steely and determined to talk over Shazia and the inconsequential Lucinda.

As for the boys, they really shone this week. They immediately got an idea of laundry charges; they beat the girls in winning a hotel order and they managed to overcome their class divide, largely down to Raef's charisma as leader and Simon's tenacity in rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done.

It's still early days and some of the would-be Apprentices have hardly opened their mouths, but I have high hopes for Simon, Alex (the leader from last week), and Jennifer, the Irish marketing consultant.

Jennifer Maguire
She stayed very quiet in last night's show, in the manner of Christina from last year, and I could see why. As the girls started bickering in the boardroom, she had a think bubble that said "I am not part of this. I am too good for them." Marketing people don't always fare well on The Apprentice so let's hope she doesn't revert to blue sky visions, story boards, brainstorms and strategies when it's her turn to lead a task. Sir Alan doesn't rate any of that.

The two that stand out as likely to be next in the firing line are Lucinda - does Sir Alan really need a beret-wearing aromatherapist in risk management? - and Michael. I can't say why Michael exactly, but he is very annoying and childish.

Today's Road Rap

London to Swindon, just under two hours. Left earlier than usual at 5.45am and was rewarded by being in the office before eight.

Today's collection of random thoughts and nonsense:

1) I am wearing my new Edna Everage style brown glasses with diamante. Now normally I wear contact lenses, but lately I'm finding that "middle aged / old" thing of having to hold books and newspapers at a distance because my normally perfect up- close vision is compromised by my blind-as-a-bat distance vision. Anyway, I now have a new pair of specs and plan to wear them all the time, except when we go out in the evening when I will revert to lenses (vanity, readers). Well, I haven't worn them before for driving and it is a slightly bizarre experience. These are varifocals, which I took to right away with no problems. But in the car, I found you have to keep your head in the same position, very steady. If you lift up your head, you go out of vision. Eeek. Now I must drive with my nose in the air (probably to disguise a double chin) because this kept happening. I will be worn out at this rate.

2) Boris v Ken. Yes, I have received my electoral registration card. So yah boo to those of you who cruelly say I live in Essex and not London. Anyway, Boris was finally seen on TV last night starting his campaign after seemingly being kept out of sight by Tory HQ. Now he is very winsome, and was good on Have I Got News For You?but does he really have the stature and gravitas to run Britain's largest city? I'm afraid leopards and spots comes to mind, as Mr Paddick so helpfully pointed out. So it's looking like the newt fancier for me.

3) No sightings of the triumvirate (Baileys, Dentressangle, Wilkinson). This is getting boring.

4) Do you remember Sunny Smiles? I don't know why it crossed my mind, but it did. When I was a kid and down at the Meths (the Methodist church) I used to get given little booklets of children's photos and you had to "sell" the photos. Inevitably the, er, less attractive children would be left in the booklet. I wonder what happened to the kids and if this is mentioned in any detail on the web, as it would now be perceived as hideously non PC.

Britiush Airways: get your act together - NOW

Three words to British Airways. Sort. It. Out.
I refer to the debacle at Terminal 5, Heathrow Airport, which should have been a triumph. Completed ahead of schedule, on budget, and catapulting Europe's busiest airport into the ranks of "decent airports" rather than Third World.
But no, the world stood by and laughed as every day since its opening has degenerated into chaos. And the sad thing is, none of it is new. I wrote about wretched BA several months ago when they had another baggage handling scandal. I suspect the issues are the same. They still do not have enough baggage handlers, all in an attempt to save money.
Strange to note that 400 BA staff "volunteered" to come in to sort the back log. Volunteered?! BA should have called in dozens of extra staff and paid them overtime, the moment the issue arose, to sort the back log!
But it's typical of this arrogant, lazy company - whose management is described as old school braying hooray henry idiots - that they have put their heads in the sand and tried to blame everyone else.
BAA, and Heathrow management, have finally said that their baggage management system is working 100%. So it is firmly BA's fault that over 50 flights have again been cancelled today.
Words fail me. Surely the buffoons could have done the simple maths around number of flights, passengers and bags?
When the route to Rhodes, Greece, for our summer holiday was transferred to Easyjet from BA a few weeks ago I was actually pleased. At least with Easyjet most of the flights run on time and you don't need to worry about your baggage being on a different flight (or being sat at Gatwick for weeks).
Mind you, BAA and Heathrow need to take some responsibility for only one escalator or lift working yesterday out of 18. Duh?
This sort of incompetence makes me so mad because it shows the rest of the world that we can't get our act together. This would never have happened in France or Germany.
Someone at BA should be sacked NOW!

The Apprentice: new series looks promising

The new series of The Apprentice kicked off last night and promises to be another good 'un.

The reason it's so compelling is that we're introduced to a bunch of highly unlikeable arrogant and opinionated young people who think that, armed with their MBAs and their two or three years in sales, they're "the best salesperson in Europe" or whatever. Yet they fall apart, completing lacking any common sense, with the simple tasks they're asked to perform.

And, more tellingly, it degenerates into playground factions and name calling, as it appears some of them lack the basic communications skills needed in business.

In last night's episode, Nicholas the barrister (and why would a newly qualified barrister want to work for Sir Alan's box shifting outfit?!) looked down on everybody else in the boardroom and sneered that the others were uneducated salespeople who talked about football, whereas he was into culture. The naivety of the man. As if those are qualities that will appear to Sir Alan (no degree, salesperson, ardent football fan).

Meanwhile Alex, the boys' leader for this task, had obviously learned from previous episodes as he kept reeling off the failures of Nicholas, during the task, to make sure the camera team were aware who was to blame.

The boys team, for the second year running, immediately emerged as very weak and childish, going into an argument in the boardroom about how there were already two factions with one saying "I thought you were my friend," as if they were five year olds, not the finest entrepreneurs of today who met a few hours previously.

It seems that men can't cross the social divide. Every year there are essentially two types of people: a) braying public school educated hooray Henrys, and b) "innit" ordinary boys educated at former polytechnics (but it's a degree isn't it?) who talk about women's chests and football. Women are more able to deal with this, although it seems there are fewer "toffs" on the women's team anyway.

You don't even need Sir Alan and his side-kicks when you have these posturing young buffoons digging their own graves, but the way he assassinates their failings, in such a succinct way, is always a treat to watch.

Roll on the next few episodes!!

The BBC Effect

We have been enjoying "An Island Parish" on BBC2, a gentle little programme about life on the Isles of Scilly.

Following the episode about the launch of the island's radio station, I was amused to tune into Radio Scilly via the web to find that the live stream is constantly busy because of demand caused by the programme.

It made me muse on "the BBC Effect" and the change it has brought about on the islands. I can't honestly believe that so many changes and life transformations would have happened had it not been for the presence of Nigel Farrell and his film crew. Would the school have got the necessary millions for a rebuild, after countless refusals? Would the Seven Stones pub, and the new artists' workshops, been renovated and reopened so quickly?

Nonetheless it was a great insight into island life and a glimpse into a life that is all but forgotten "on the mainland". Everyone knows each other, entertainment is the pub or amateur dramatics, and in winter the islands are remote as the storms rage and the helicopter flights are cancelled.

It was also apparent that the unity that binds all the islands can also ruthlessly exclude those who don't fit in.


Father Guy, left, the new Anglican priest, was unfortunately a case in point. Ostensibly the whole series was pinned on him and how he left Mullion because he had a calling to go to the Scillies. But somehow he hasn't gelled with the community and recent programmes have hardly focused on him at all. His sermons and whole manner of delivery seems laboured and awkward; he seems quite a shy and introverted person and doesn't go to the pub or take part in the pantomime in the manner of the Methodist minister, Rev David, who in recent programmes has become more prominent.

We thought that Guy might actually leave the islands in the last series but he appears to be gritting his teeth for another year. Time will tell.....

Post Easter flotsam and miscellaneous ramblings

An unusual development today: daylight as I left London for Swindon at 5.55am. Last time I went to Swindon, two weeks ago, it was still dark. And we haven't even done the daylight savings nonsense yet. (I still haven't changed the clock in my car from last time).

Today's miscellaneous thoughts:
1) No sightings of Baileys equine horse feeds ("horse nutritionn in the bag"), Wilkinson's or Norbert Dentressangle. In fact, I said to Anonymous this morning that I'm beginning to think they're avoiding me.
2) What shall I do about the back garden? How easy is it to find a gardener who can remove trees and shrubs? What happens if the one who tuns up is too old? I wonder how dahlias would fare. I used to think they were very vulgar but they seem to be back in fashion and I'm quite attracted by the idea. Maybe some fuschias too. I do love those. The Widow Twankey would look wonderful next to the Bishop of Canterbury (pictured).
3) What to do about the decorating? Since we had new radiators installed, the wallpaper is looking very torn and shabby in places. I am desperate to have the stairs, hallway, landing and main bedroom redecorated. J shows very little enthusiasm and has still not done the necessary measuring. Shall I ring Colin from down the road who did the exterior last year (but fell out with J in the process?).
4) The Jackie hits of the 70s album (which I was playing). Really very good: quite a few tracks you had completely forgotten, and I could do without "Billy don't be a hero," but at least they are all bona fide hits. Usually you buy a compilation, you get a few songs that defy the trades descriptions act.
5) Are there two bank holidays in August? I'm sure there were last year but J insists there are not.
6) Am I getting excited about the new series of The Apprentice? Possibly, although I have a few sore misgivings too. The formula is becoming quite tired. Why bother with all the MBAs and marketing experts in the first place, when Sir Alan only wants a tactical sales person / box shifter?

The new voting strategy for Eurovision

Two UK winners - Bucks Fizz and Brotherhood of Man
Those of you who are regular readers will know I am a bit of a fan of Eurovision. It's such a kitsch festival of irony, how could you not be? Well, this week I went to Frankfurt for a team meeting. We're probably unique as a team in that we're based in several countries, so we only get to see each other face-to-face once a quarter. With so many countries in one team - UK, Germany,France, Belgium, Poland, Spain, Georgia, Croatia and Italy, Eurovision is always a good bonding topic over dinner. And the rise of the PDA has led to a whole new game that wouldn't have been possible a few years ago. "Who won in 1993?" we asked. Well, Taj (on the iPhone) and Kurt (on the unspecified PDA) instantly went to check, and it was Ireland. (The iPhone won by the way). You can add a little frisson to this by having a wager on the winner before finding out the answer.
The other outcome from the dinner was that we agreed a strategy for trying to give a better chance to the songs of western Europe. The Georgian voter didn't go along with this, of course. What we will do is: Belgium will vote for UK and vice versa. Belgium have a fun song this year (Kurt even had a CD with all the Belgian entries for this year - and they had a better selection than poor old UK). Spread the same game among your friends, folks! Don't let the Baltic bloc vote trample on our great Eurovision tradition. Don't forget those iconic songs like Ding-a-Dong (Netherlands), Boom Bang A Bang (UK) and Hard Rock Hallejuhah (Finland).

Finally, here's a fun website my brother found which lets you look at the record/CD covers for all the entrants, in all the countries. Look at those groovy hairstyles.

It's Thick and Yellow

I have spent the last 10 years on a gastronomic quest. No, this is not my tireless campaign to visit the best restaurants in London, although that's ongoing. My quest has been to find the perfect blend of the thick yellow stuff. Piccalilli. 

You may think piccalilli is downmarket. I began to suspect the same after Nana Royle asked for a cheese and piccalilli sandwich in the Royle Family. But I can't help it. I'm like Nigella with her pickles obsession. I adore piccalilli, and particularly in a cheese sandwich. 

The problem is, Epicure, my favourite purveyors of the pickle,  stopped making piccalilli about 10 years ago or longer, I've been trying to find one that ticks all the boxes and I've failed miserably. 

It's not through want of trying. I've tried all the mainstream ones from supermarkets: own brands, including M&S (one of the worst), Garners, Haywards, Heinz (yuk!), Bartons. I've also experimented with specialist pickles bought at farmer's markets and delis. Until now, my piccalilli of choice was from Fortnum & Mason, but it was nowhere near the towering achievement that was Epicure's historic brand.

Now though, I have a new number one. In Tavistock recently I went into Creber's, one of those delightful old-fashioned deli / grocer's that sells everything by Epicure (except, ironically, the piccalilli).  Anyway, I scoured the pickle shelves and decided to try a jar of piccalilli which was marked "gold medal winner." It is a piccalilli to die for: not too dayglo a yellow, not too acid or bitter, and not too sweet. It has the perfect balance of silverskin onions and cauliflower. It hasn't got preservatives or anything nasty (once open, you have to keep it in the fridge). And the best news is, you can buy it online direct from the makers in Wiltshire. The company is called Tracklements and Delia mentions their chilli jam in her new book. They also have many other products including chutneys, pickles, ketchups, jellies and, oh bliss, hampers!

Update:  news just in - November 2020:

Epicure Piccalilli is back.  I've been contacted by the new owners, who have quite an extensive range at their website. I'll be giving my verdict on my current blog, Is This Mutton, on Nov 13 2020.

Happy Days

Drove to Swindon today (2 hours 15, M25 was a stinker between junctions 19 and 17) and mulled over large quantities of good news:
- Banana Republic opening first store in Europe in Regent Street on March 20th;
- lovely pink skies this morning over London (which in ye olde lore, means "shepherd's warning," but let's not concern ourselves too much with shepherds);
- Prince Albert of Monaco to get married in September. Fabulous! A Monagasque wedding. I can't wait to see Caroline (no doubt wearing Chanel) and Stephanie sitting as far apart as they can manage, plus whether or not Caroline's daughter will upstage them both.
And I hope we send the A team this time, Charles & Camilla. When Prince Rainier snuffed it, we only sent Prince Edward. It will be a visual feast! Of course Prince Albert, who is 50 tomorrow, can procrastinate no longer. Unless he produces an heir, an official heir, he will lose the crown under their rules & regs. That can't be a very appealing prospect for his South African girlfriend, knowing that he is marrying her under duress, but as an ex-swimmer her shoulders are certainly broad enough to shrug it off;
- my colleague Matthew is back from the US and has two magazines for me including the one I absolutely love, Somerset Memories.
Not all good news today. Didn't have a single sighting of Bailey's Horse Feeds, Wilkinson or Norbert Dentressangle lorries. I wonder what all the nags are going to do without their nose bags. As Norbert would say, "quelle horreur."

And I haven't bothered myself with Mr Darling's budget because let's face it, it's never going to be good news is it? I am a bit cross about the price of beer going up, not because I'm a beer drinker but because it may put pubs and breweries out of business. The price of hops is already escalating this year. I quite like the Conservatives' idea of putting a heavy tax on alcopops and strong cheap lagers, those bought mainly from supermarkets by kids. Bur I'm not sure they could enforce it.

Sadness over Concorde

Buried away in the news today was the story that a French prosecutor is calling for Continental Airlines to go on trial over allegations that a piece of debris on the runway from a Continental plane caused the Concorde accident in Paris that resulted in 113 deaths.

The accident, back in 2000, resulted in all the Concordes being grounded for safety tests, And shortly afterwards, the British Airways Concordes were unexpectedly retired in 2003.

It was always one of my biggest regrets that I never flew on Concorde. It was such an amazing -and moving - sight in the sky, even if it was apparently quite cramped on board. I'll never forget the sight of Concorde leading the Red Arrows in the fly past for the Queen's golden jubilee in 2002.

It seems so sad to me that Britain, France and other European countries collaborated on this wonderful aviation breakthrough (and showed what can be achieved in Europe when we all work together), the era of supersonic air travel was born, but then it dies and there is nothing to replace it. Those lummocky great planes that hold hundreds of people hold little appeal for me. They just mean more room for the people who turn left, and more shoehorning-in of the unfortunates who turn right.

It's a tragic epitaph to Concorde that its demise was effectively caused by a piece of debris from another aircraft. Nothing to do with the safety of the plane, which was widely discussed at the time and has probably left his reputation tarnished.

Maybe oneday I will get to see Concorde - albeit grounded - at the special museum hangar created in Manchester.

Thank heavens for Delia

It's five years since Delia Smith had a TV show or new cookery book out. Now she's back with her "How to Cheat at Cooking" and apparently the chattering classes are in a furore. Not only has she included tips on using pre-made items like M&S casserole mixes (the horror!) but on Radio 4 she said she wasn't part of the organic lobby and believed that cheap chicken provides a good source of protein for poor families.

Hear hear!

It's all very well for Jamie Oliver and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall to get tearful over chickens, and I do agree that the chattering classes (myself included) should spend more on free-range organic birds. But only if you can afford it. The problem with free-range organic birds is that they are tiny. I often spend around £10 at Sainsburys on a bird which scarcely feeds three for lunch, let alone provide anything for meals afterwards. So I'm not surprised that people still buy the battery chickens. OK, they're fattened up with water and we know what terrible lives they lead, but people on very low incomes still need to eat.

It's a misnomer that it costs a lot to eat well. If you ate a lot of pulses and vegetables you could eat fairly cheaply and nutritiously. But most people haven't got a clue, and the TV chefs are partly to blame. When did a TV chef consciously give us cheap, nourishing and healthy meals to make? They're either exhorting us to cook above our skill level (tuille baskets / spun sugar / reductions) or they're using upmarket ingredients like venison, wild boar and so on. Fine for the chattering classes and their bijoux dinner parties, but not so good for Kerry Katona and her gang who stuff themselves with pre-packaged E numbers from Iceland.

At least Delia Smith is recognising this and encouraging busy people to cook from scratch while cutting a few corners. Hurrah for her. I wish her recipes were a little healthier, but maybe that's step two.

Nigella of course had her "Express" book and show which sold much the same premise, but Nigella's short cuts are all about buying niceties from the Italian deli. A lot of her shortcuts can be bought at the gourmet aisle in Sainsburys and some can't (Italian deli). Delia's short cuts seem to be mainly from Marks & Spencer but at least the store is accessible (if maybe over priced for many).

The Way We Were

It's been a long time since I used a VCR. J is such a technology evangelist that my trusty Panasonic machine was despatched to Plymouth some time ago to spend the rest of its useful life with Gizzard (my mum). However, when I was there at the weekend I found it was still under a cloth so I brought it back and duly fired it into life yesterday.

I had two old videos I was dying to see. My family were not from the "Super 8" generation so we didn't have an old cine camera that came out at the drop of the hat. It wasn't until 1990 that I first became acquainted with a camcorder, a huge great thing that sat on your shoulder. The first video, from December 1990, shows a family get together at Giz's house.

It was quite poignant because of the seven people and one cat in the frames, only three remain in the family (and no cat). Dear old Grandma was there; she died the following summer. Mark, my ex-husband, is the cameraman (we split up the following year), and Susan, my younger brother's ex-wife, is also there, as is my dad Stamps, who died four years ago. Mitzi the cat died a long time ago.

Anyway, the action starts with Giz making a pizza; we are then seen eating the pizza and sitting around in armchairs looking like the Royle Family. Robert and Susan arrive, and we play Trivial Pursuit. It's quite amusing - Grandma is in good form, recounting how she was an extra in a film, and Giz admonishes her for taking another glass of Bailey's - "you'll only get bad."

Giz won't watch the film because she says she would find it too sad, but I found it very uplifting. (I was quite pleased too because in 1990 I had horribly short hair and was a bit podgy, so I was chuffed to think I look better now than I did then!).

The other video was from 1993 when I was in my resignation period at a PR agency in London (how I hated it there!) and took part in a day's presentation skills training with a company called Perfect Pitch. I remember this very well. The tutor, a Scottish lady called Caroline Sami, wanted us to "perform" our own presentation of about five minutes and she lined us up in a particular order. She wanted the quiet timid ones at the start, building up to a crescendo of the better presenters.

Well, she put me second, which made me smile inwardly because I love it when people underestimate me. So when I gave my performance, which was an amusing appeal on why Plymouth should be the next venue for the Olympic Games, I really hammed it up and got a lot of laughter and applause. Ms Sami looked as if she was sucking a lemon and said "Now you've messed up the running order. The next person has too hard an act to follow." I smirked inwardly again and thought that next time maybe she wouldn't be so quick to underestimate people.

Amazon rules OK

I was gratified to discover that since installing the "My Favourites" widget from Amazon I have helped them shift five products! And earned myself £1.17.

Well, I won't be giving up the day job just yet, but this is a whole £1.17 better than I ever earned from Google Ad Sense, so given that I've now refreshed My Favourites and will keep it updated, I might reach a Bobby Moore by the end of the year.

I have to say that when Amazon started branching out a few years ago and selling things other than books, plus secondhand books, I had SMs. (Sore misgivings, as quoth by Mrs Fussey in Carry On Camping). But no, they can't be knocked, and I've even become a Marketplace seller myself. I stopped selling on Ebay because it's such a faff, having to take pictures of your merchandise. Even the payment system is inferior. With Amazon, they just pop the money into my account where it's helping to subsidise my outrageous spends on stash (cardmaking and scrapbooking supplies).

Reverse Flotsam

More flotsam, today on a different journey: Plymouth to Swindon, having stayed with the old girl this weekend and taken Monday off. (For those of you who like traffic data: it took 2 hrs 45, no major incidents to report).

I didn't see any Baileys Horse Feeds lorries or indeed Wilkinson lorries, which I will now look out for. I like to spy Norbert Dentressangle too because I think it's just a superb name, like Perkins Lascelles in Plymouth. I thought that this opticians' business was run by a Mr Perkins Lascelles but it turns out to be two gentlemen. I collect great names: I am liking Benedict Cumberbatch too.

Anyway - to the matter in hand - Eurovision. I could not believe it when the foolish, feckless public voted for Wogan's wild card. I have sore misgivings, that's all I can say.

I can't even remember what he's called, but it's some bloke who was in The X Factor and he looks like someone's dad. I was convinced Michelle Gayle would win with her fine rendition of something that looked like The Goodies' Funky Chicken and had lyrics along the lines of "you make me oooh." Perfect Eurovision fodder. Now we've got someone's dad singing a proper song with a decent voice, and we have NO CHANCE WHATSOEVER, unless Eastern Europe decides that it's fed up with novelty numbers, singing turkies and so on, and wants a sensible ballad sung by someone's dad.

The spectre of "Nil Points" beckons.

While I'm here, I thought I would mention our superb Mother's Day lunch at the Corbyn Head Hotel in Torquay. It was top notch: perfect succulent rare beef for me (well done for the old girl), preceded by chicken liver pate and followed by a substantial bread and butter pudding. And Giz got a bunch of flowers on top of a free glass of sparkling white, so she was In Clover.

The daily flotsam

Men! Have you ever wondered what's going through your little lady's mind?

Well wonder no more, because I've decided to share with you my thoughts as I drove to Swindon this morning. This drive along the M25 and M4 ranges takes an average of 2.5 hours, depending on how many accidents there have been. Last Friday the return leg reached a new low of 3.5 hours owing to about three accidents on the M4. Sheesh, people are so careless. I see them in their cars fiddling with their Tom Toms and their phones. I could scream!

So here are the random thoughts:
- where is the Bailey's equine feeds lorry? Didn't see it last week either. "Horse nutrition in the bag."
- I wonder how much I would get if I took the voluntary separation package. Would it be enough to build a new conservatory? No, don't think about it, don't want to leave.
- what should I wear on Sunday (taking mum out for lunch). Perhaps I could take a pair of flat shoes so that we can walk round Cockington afterwards and see the daffodils. I can't lurch around on high heels all day.
- where has the muse gone? I haven't had the urge to be creative for several days now. Can you reach saturation point with scrapbooking where you don't want to see another brad, button or bloom as long as you live?
- won't bother reading the papers today if they're all obsessed with Prince Harry. He is sooooo boring. He joined the army so why are we surprised he's on the front line? What were the UK press and paps doing to miss the story (it was apparently broken by international press). Didn't they notice that Harry wasn't in London and falling out of nightclubs - for five weeks?! (Well actually they did but unusually for the UK press they were adhering to a blackout on the Harry news).
- our Eurovision chances look very bleak. The BBC seems to have handed the whole thing to an intern if you ask me.
- glad James won the Masterchef final. I tipped him to win from the very first time we saw him! But Emily will go far too.
- How about this as a great programme idea? "Masterchef meets The Restaurant." I'm convinced the finalists in Masterchef reached a much higher standard than those in The Restaurant (the male winner of The Restaurant was clueless about seasonality - so was hardly a food expert). It would make a good Christmas special. Have Raymond Blanc and the other judges blind tasting (so they aren't biased) and have James and Emily and The Restaurant winners competing against each other.
- hope I don't put on too much weight after this weekend....eating out twice today...going to my mum's....aaarghhh.

So there you have it. Illuminating, no?

Give the gong to Bruce!

I've joined a group on Facebook called "Give Bruce Forsyth a Knighthood." Membership now stands at 10,000. It's a movement that has been gaining momentum since Derek Draper (husband of Kate Garraway) started a campaign when Strictly Come Dancing was on.

The whole matter of why hasn't Bruce been given a knighthood, at the age of 80, throws into question the honours system.

It smacks of the old boys' network with Gordon and his chums, and prior to that, Tony and his chums, giving out awards like sweets to the rockstars and footballers they admire. The Queen has very little say. Having watched last night's Monarchy programme on BBC HD, it revealed there is one award that is her bequest alone, the Order of Victoria. Meanwhile Steven Gerrard was seen getting an MBE, with his ghastly wife chomping away on gum, and you have to think: why?

Bruce has been a traditional entertainer as long as much of us can remember. Sometimes underrated, he has superb comedy timing and is multi-talented. I saw him in his one man show many years ago and he was a wonderful dancer, could sing, and even played instruments. Even on SCD, where some have cruelly criticised him for being past it, his professionalism comes to the fore when there is a manufactured spat between the judges or an incident like the one where the microphone got caught up in Karen Hardy's dress.

I am appalled that Mick Jagger has been knighted and Bruce hasn't. It's hard to fathom why Mick Jagger was knighted. Longevity, perhaps? You could say he is a fornicating adulterer, and if he does good deeds for charity he is silent about it. It smacks to me of some sort of hero worship from Tony Blair.

The honours system gives recognition to many ordinary men and women who toil tirelessly for charity or enrich the community in other ways. Meeting the Queen gives them a very special day. I'm all in favour of that. I'm less in favour of the personal bestowing of knighthoods on n'er do wells like Mick Jagger who don't deserve it. George Harrison died only an MBE, same as Steven Gerrard, although he left us a heritage of wonderful songs like Something and Here Comes the Sun. Criminal.

There is a rumour on Facebook that Brucie will be knighted in the Queen's Birthday Honours in June. Let's bloomin' well hope so. It would be nice to see, to see it nice.

Dustin the Turkey is in

They did it...the Irish voted for a turkey puppet to represent them in Eurovision. A bad precedent methinks! As if the contest doesn't have enough problems with the perception that all the songs are turkeys.

Mind, I'm not expecting great things from the array of goodies that the BBC will put before the voting public in March.

Apparently one of the entrants is Michelle Gayle (ex EastEnders), someone from Hear Say (how many people were in that group? It seems there is always "someone from Hear Say turning up in reality shows) and a couple of the failures from the Joseph and Maria shows. Holy God! I am already pessimistic without hearing the songs.

Morrissey, where are you when we need you?
Not that he would win, but at least it would be more interesting.

Consider yourself atoned, Sarah Duchess of York

I've always been fascinated by Sarah Ferguson or the Duchess of York, depending on which moniker you prefer. She nearly always lets me down though. Let me explain.

When she first exploded on the scene and married Prince Andrew, I thought the exuberant redhead was a lot of fun in a public school girl type way - gungho with lashings of ginger beer. She blew a breath of fresh air through the stuffy old royal establishment. I loved her wedding dress. It fizzed with her energy and character, with all those bees and butterflies on the train. It was far better than Diana's crumpled meringue.

Then it all went horribly wrong. There was the toe sucking business with that revolting Bryant character; Prince Philip called her "worthless", she was divorced, virtually bankrupt and scuttled off to America. Every now and then pictures would surface where she was looking sad at the prospect of her daughters spending Christmas with the Windsors while she was cloistered away in some lodge at the bottom of the garden like an unwanted gnome.

Now matter how much she was derided - and she was - she really turned over a new leaf in America and as a spokesperson for WeightWatchers she has earned respect, her own money and a trim figure which she's kept for over a decade. Her ex-husband meanwhile is still seen as something of a buffoon, travelling the world's golf courses in some tenuous DTI role and carrying on like an ageing lothario.

During this time she's had very little romantic interest, except for some ageing count: unless she's managed to get rid of the paraparazzi, which I very much doubt.

The reason for this becomes clear in an interview in Psychologies magazine. Using the psycho-babble that she always seems to spout, Sarah says that she still hasn't learnt to love herself, so she can't expect someone else to love her.

The magazine points out it's as if she's still trying to atone.

Oh Sarah. I wish you would lighten up. She looks so serious in the photos! Where is that sparky redhead? I wish she could meet someone and have some joy in her life. But she needs to turn her back on all the psychobabble, she really does. Last time she was on TV, it was being interviewed by Pamela Connolly (a psychologist). Sarah, like a lot of needy people, succumbs all too easily to the arguments about how her early years, and a mother abandoning her family, ruined her life. She talks too much about how she put on a mask, how she's now her real self. Stop analysing yourself Sarah and start living! All too soon it becomes too late.

Sadly deluded

If having to pay £3,500 each to nationalise the Northern Rock bank wasn't enough for the taxpayer to bear, the grim fiscal reality surrounding the Diana Inquest now becomes clear. This inquest, and all the other inquiries before it, is costing is millions and why? Because somehow we were influenced by the deluded ramblings of Mohamed Al Fayed.

I've always said that the inquest is a complete waste of time and money: that he and his tedious supporters will always claim a whitewash, a cover-up, no matter what its conclusions are. But now we see for ourselves, after his evidence, how flimsy is the case on which all this conspiracy nonsense stands. So why in God's name did it ever go this far, with barristers haemorrhaging cash (ours) every minute of the inquest?

Who wasn't implicated by Al Fayed yesterday? Tony Blair, Diana's sister, Dominic Lawson, the late Robin Cook.....the French government....How about Scooby Doo and Herr Flick? Ridiculous flights of fancy, surely the result of madness.

This whole thing should be stopped NOW. Let the woman rest in peace and let's stop all this rubbish about pregnancies, babies, conspiracies and so on. Utter tosh!

Eurovision update: Ireland to choose a turkey?

Ireland is poised to choose its entry for this year's Eurovision Song Contest on 23 February and already the Irish are in a bit of flap about the possibility of being represented by a turkey (both the song and the singer).

One of the finalists is Dustin the turkey, a puppet, with his song "Irlande douze points."

Terry Wogan's wig, Bono and an apology for Riverdance are all mentioned in the lyrics.

It seems the Irish are taking their failure last year quite seriously and have changed the rules and regs about how their song gets chosen (I hope the BBC is taking note).

The turkey could be an interesting choice. Ireland has never gone for humour before, and it could be that the comic approach might be the only way for western Europe to break the Baltic bloc vote.

On the other hand, Eurovision gets enough flak for its songs being turkeys, so is it really wise to flaunt this with a poor song from, in fact, a turkey?!!

This year's Eurovision Song Contest is on 24 May in Belgrade, Serbia. The semi-finals are 20 and 22 May. Ireland has to qualify in the semis; UK goes through automatically (which is a relief) as we provide most of the funding for the damn thing, along with Germany, Spain and France. Serbia also go through to the final without needing to qualify, as reigning champions.

Facebook - so over?

I said in passing to my partner's 20 year old son at the weekend: "Facebook is so over." He didn't disagree but looked as me as if I was some respected Internet sage.

This must be how rumours start. Who knows, my little comment could now be running amok with a momentum all of its own.

Only last weekend, the Sunday Times wrote a lengthy article about the Facebook phenomenon. Half the UK population has a Facebook account. Its growth is staggering. But, lately, a couple of things are starting to niggle. The fun little applets, which are a great part of Facebook's appeal, now insist that you tell 20 friends before you get the results to see how British you are, what colour you are, etc. So most of us don't bother. It's little niggles like this that will start to turn people away.

Another issue is the growing prevalence of the corporate sponsor and what they're going to do with the rich harvest of data available to them. Initially, Facebook's attraction was that it seemed pure and untainted. But, having assembled this vast database of user sociological data, Facebook is now looking at how it can cash in. Themed ads (contextual ads) have started appearing and corporates are finding ways to engage with consumers, rather than talking at them, with various challenges and quizzes. This is good web practice, but it won't be long before darker and less desirable ways of using our data come to our attention.

Because I'm in marketing, I've been on most of the social networking sites for a while now, having joined in the early days so I could see how it developed. I don't bother with MySpace now - it seems very targeted at teenagers and mostly music focused. Linked In is showing signs of wear: unless it finds some more interesting ways to interact, it will go the same way as Friends Reunited. Bebo seems to be a mainly British phenomenon, and mostly among school kids and teenagers. Bebo has already developed a lot of sinister undercurrents: not the prevalence of paedophiles, as parents often fear, but the growing trend of online bullying. Some towns have even seen spates of suicide among school children which have been firmly linked to Bebo.

As the Sunday Times concluded, we're all waiting to see what's next "after Facebook." I'd like to see a more grown-up version. Facebook was originally aimed at US college kids, and it still seems quite juvenile with all the "poke me" nonsense. I like the bookshelf, film and music sections but lately these have become very flakey to use with constant error messages.

I'm back!

It didn't take much, did it? Three begging emails, and I'm back on line.
Three things in mind.
1) The deteriorating standards in London hotels.
This week I stayed a night in the Marriott Marble Arch (£200). Why it is called "Marble Arch" I know not, as it is tucked away some distance from said Arch, and confusingly, there is another Marriott directly at Marble Arch. The hotel is being renovated, and needs it. For £200, I had a tiny bathroom with an enamel-scuffed bath, and the water was scarcely hot enough for a shower, let alone a bath. This is so frustrating, because last week I stayed in the Royal Lancaster Hotel at Lancaster Gate and again the water was not hot enough for a bath. Is this some sinister plot to stop guests from bathing and using too much hot water?

I also rue the fact that hotels seem to have stopped using plastic bin liners. The Hilton and Marriott chains certainly have. I don't believe it's on environmental grounds. Purely cost grounds. I find it unhygienic, and undesirable. I squirm at having to drop a used tea bag into a bin. It must take longer to clean, and time adds up to money.


2) Benares Restaurant, Berkeley Square, Mayfair
Last night I went back to Benares (home of "celebrity chef" Atil Kochhar)and had a very pleasant evening. I think I may have been a bit churlish in my original review a few months ago when I said the service was over solicitous. Last night the service was great, not over solicitous in the least. And the food, as it was before, was delicious.

3) Year of the Rat
I am a Rat and my time has come. Apparently it's the Chinese Year of the Rat. I don't know what this means to me or other Rats. Hopefully it means I will win the Lotto so I can finally get my architect designed house in Epping (near Rod Stewart's, perhaps), my bolt hole in Kingsand, Cornwall, and the services of a personal trainer three times a week.

It seems that I have poorly served by Chinese astrology, because according to the definition of Rats in Wikipedia, I should probably be a millionaire in my own right. Rats are "charming, passionate, charismatic, practical and hardworking. Rat people are endowed with great leadership skills and are the most highly organized, meticulous, and systematic of the twelve signs. Intelligent and cunning at the same time, rats are highly ambitious and strong-willed people who are keen and unapologetic promoters of their own agendas, which often include money and power." Coo. My colours are black, red and white and my foods pork, cabbage and peas (not sure about cabbage).

Dear blog: you are boring me

Dear Curious Girl blog
I'm afraid to say that you and I am no longer mutually compatible. You are starting to bore me. I seem to come over all disgusted of Tunbridge Wells whenever I start writing, leading someone to ask recently "do you still write that right-wing ranting blog?" I was shocked, because right wing is something I am not.

Looking at the blog traffic on Site Meter and Icerocket, I mainly get hits from people looking for chef / broadcaster John Torode, Elizabeth Hurley's jaw dropping wedding or Carol McGiffin "with no clothes on" (really!) I can count on a handful of faithful readers, Lucy and Mark T and a Methodist minister among them.

The only time this blog really rocks is when I'm covering the Eurovision Song Contest and Strictly Come Dancing.

So, dear blog, I think I will put you into hibernation and only wake you up when it's time for those particular topics. (Not long now for Eurovision - the UK will soon be making its usual hash of choosing the UK entry!).

Meanwhile, I'm putting a lot of more energy into my crafting blog, where the traffic is growing nicely, and my secret girlie blog which I don't promote (if you don't know the URL, I'm not telling you so it'll test your web search powers!).

See you in Serbia if not before, groovers!

Bring back decent TV

Heaven forbid that I would mention the licence fee (too Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells for words), but it crossed my mind as I idly perused the TV guide that we watch hardly anything on the BBC channels these days. I am watching Masterchef, I own up to that, although I'm heartily fed up with the knowing looks that Torode exchanges with the "ingredients expert" (grocer) Wallace.

We also watch Coast, where I am fascinated by the umbrella that Nicholas Crane carries everywhere but never uses; and sometimes we like the costume dramas, although Lark's Rise to Candleford is the most appalling old tosh and didn't survive beyond the second week.

The various "comedies" don't get a look in, nor the tired old formats of Have I Got News For You, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, Top Gear, etc etc.

(On the subject of comedies, does anyone really find "My Family" funny?).

"Extras" is OK sometimes; "Jam and Jerusalem" is very unfunny, which is sad considering the talent appearing in it.

We watch even less on ITV. Make that nothing on ITV.

I'm really hoping that 2008 is the year we turn against the reality shows. They were all OK when they first started and the people appearing on them weren't cynical or manipulated by the producers. Now most of these shows show the levels to which human nature can sink. Those various X Factor entertainment type shows manipulate those who take part and those who watch. People have recently told the papers about how they were forced to say x or y in shows like Wife Swap to make them more controversial. We glorify foul mouthed dysfunctional families like the Osbornes.

And don't get me started on the programmes which humilate the obese. Every week, the contents of someone's fridge is displayed and laughed at. In the ridiculous "Supersize v Superskinny," we're allowed to laugh at the eating habits of thin people too! I wish programmes would take obesity seriously and stop parading hectoring "experts" or patronising doctors.

All in all, it's a bleak picture. I would love to see the return of good old family entertainment. Shows with a feel good factor.

Strictly Come Dancing is a fabulous example because it can't really be manipulated (although the judges now bitch and moan similar to those on the X Factor). Dancing on Ice was hyped up this year to try to capitalise on the SCD factor but I turned off after the first 20 minutes. The music drives you mad and the staging looks very cheap and tacky.

Here's an idea for Channel 4. With all our prison overcrowding, why don't they introduce a show like "The Running Man" which stars real life convicts? To add a bit of spice it could be presented by a couple of disgraced or forgotten TV presenters. How about John Leslie.

If you see it in the next few months remember you read about it here first!

Good for you, Helena Bonham-Carter

A few years ago I didn't care much for Helena Bonham-Carter. She was always turning up in those dreary Merchant Ivory films, being posh and having the vapours as they used to say, and hadn't she had a thing with the dreadful Kenneth Branagh?

Anyway, over time I have warmed towards her. I understand she's into scrapbooking, like me (she was pictured at the big Alexandra Palace scrapping expo); she has a business venture where she and a friend customise jeans and bloomers, and, more importantly, she is a strong individualist when it comes to clothes.

Last week she was seen on the red carpet, promoting her latest film Sweeney Todd. She was wearing a red Vivienne Westward dress (good) but apparently, according to some of the bitchy fashionistas, her teeth were too yellow and she was showing signs of a moustache.

Well, given that she had a baby fairly recently, I think it's great that HBC was able to look fab on the red carpet and didn't give two hoots about getting out the Immac or spending hundreds on zoom whitening which gives you pearly molars for about a year and then they go back to normal minus some of the enamel.

I love it when she's seen out and about looking like a Trinny and Susannah "before." She's clearly happy doing her own thing, which can't be bad. I know that if I had to choose between her and Victoria Beckham for a girly gossip, I would be straight round to HBC's for a cup of builder's tea and a Hob Nob. All I would get at VB's would be detox tea and a carrot stick, I suspect (if she does carrots - they are carbs after all).

Reminiscences about MyBlogLog

I took a nostalgic look at MyBlogLog today. It used to be a really hot and happening community of bloggers, but since a takeover by Yahoo, I find that many of the members of my "community" have not visited the site since July. They didn't want to have to merge their mybloglog ID with their Yahoo ID. I did do the merge, but I rarely visit the site now. It hasn't got any better functionality or features, and you still can't do a proper search to find current and regularly updated blogs in particular countries.

I felt quite nostalgic as I recalled the names of strangers whose sites I used to visit (and they reciprocated): Lady Banana, Thomas Hamburger Jnr, Personal Trainer, Yack Yack, Retroattic, Rob Watts.

Some of their blogs are still regularly updated. I always enjoy Thomas Hamburger. His comments on Janet Street Porter this week were priceless.

Apart from the camaraderie of fellow bloggers, the site used to deliver great stats on visits to your site. But I hardly ever bother to check lately because Sitemeter does the same job.

Time to check out the latest blogging hotspot. In these transient times, what's hot in the blogosphere today is as dead as the dodo in six months' time.

Diana Farce

The Diana inquest is turning into a complete shambles. I heard on the radio today that the inquest was told that Tony Blair was said to have flirted with her at an official dinner. What's that got to do with her death? The whole thing has become a salacious charade with the tabloid press in a feeding frenzy. Her so-called friends and trusted advisors (or rocks, whatever they want to call themselves) have all been contradicting each other and the inquest seems suspiciously light on any real evidence.

I hoped the inquest would put to rest the ridiculous claims about a murder plot, the over-positioning of the Dodi relationship and the nonsense about her being pregnant. But it seems these claims will stil perpetuate because we aren't getting definitive answers. We see some sweet letters from Prince Philip but we're told there were nasty ones. One of her friends says Dodi was important, Paul Burrell says he wasn't. We hear there WAS a ring, but it was a friendship ring only (and besides, she would surely have been insulted if if an "engagement" ring only cost £15k!).

The whole thing is a nonsensical shambles. Prince Charles and Prince Philip should have been called as witnesses, otherwise the rest is Chinese Whispers at best. But that was never likely to happen, so we're wasting vast amounts of taxpayers' money on keeping The Sun afloat for the duration of the inquest.

Note to Victoria

I see Mrs Beckham was voted worst dresser in Mr Blackwell's list of 2007. Highly justified, judging by the latest photos of her in a lime green ensemble. I noticed in Hello recently that both Katie Holmes (one of VB's friends) and Angelina Jolie were seen sporting glamorous outerwear at red carpet events. Outerwear? Yes, shock horror, a stylish raincoat in the case of Ms Jolie, and a gorgeous coat in the case of Katie. Let's hope their example will put paid to the spectacle of VB, and hundreds of ladies in Newcastle, wearing sleeveless dresses at night with no coat and no tights!

Remembering a great but forgotten writer

Another new year. Another set of resolutions. Well - with a difference. Only nice resolutions. I'm through with those draconian "must lose 2 stone" type resolutions. It amuses me no end to see the local gym stuffed to the gunnels in Jan with earnest new joiners, fleeced for a year's membership only to stop attending after the first three or four weeks.

My resolutions are: go to the theatre/cinema or an exhibition at least once a month: stop buying so many magazines; stop spending so much money on "stash" (scrapbook supplies) and read a classic novel at least once a month.

On the subject of classic novels, or novels in general, The Times' List of the Greatest British Writers since 1945 was a must-read. Inevitably, one always disagrees with a list like this in some respect. The online version already has 68 comments. I thought the top five was largely spot on, with Philip Larkin in pole position. I do disagree with the inclusion of JK Rowling and Ian Fleming in the top 50. Both have written global best-sellers but I doubt if their novels will stand the test of time. They're not particularly well written. I also disagreed with Salman Rushdie and his pompous pretentious tosh being in the top 10. And I was amazed Ian McKeown was in the lowly 30s.


Mostly though, I was appalled at the omission even from the long list of Bernice Rubens. A former Booker prize winner, she wrote the most fascinating, observant and quirky studies of human nature. A couple of her books, "I Sent A Letter to My Love" and "Madame Souzatza" were made into films. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't ever send her a letter saying how much I enjoyed her work, because she died a couple of years ago just before her autobiography was published.

My gran wrote to one of her favourite writers, Catherine Cookson, and received a charming reply. It's not the reply I miss, but the fact that I didn't tell her how spell binding I found most of her novels. She is a forgotten gem.

Christmas TV - humbug!

I shall be starting to sound like Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells if I dare to query the TV licence fee, but Christmas - well! How much more lacklustre could TV get?

To be honest we don't watch much TV. There's so little that appeals, we tend to watch films (excellent service from MovieBank or Sky Box Office).

But we do enjoy a big budget costume drama, wildlife documentaries and, of course, Strictly Come Dancing.

I've written endlessly about the latter. The final was disappointing, the Christmas Day special was enjoyable, and the Story of Strictly was very entertaining. I particularly enjoyed the Natasha Kemplinsky footage because I missed series one.

Oliver Twist on BBC1 was a delight, except for the last episode which was baffingly bad. Why was Bill Sikes seen running through a forest with Oliver, only to return to London to get nabbed? Bill Sikes was so appalling the last couple of episodes, where his brooding malevolence is supposed to dominate, became a bit laughable.

I had sore misgivings about "Ballet Shoes" and these were borne out. Victoria Wood seemed grossly miscast; Emma Watson wooden and the other two orphans lacking in charisma or talent. Even poor Marc Warren, who's normally memorable in everything, struggled to make much of his role.


Marc Warren

Extras was an unexpected highlight: it can be very hit-or-miss, but I enjoyed the Christmas episode. There was a great blend of humour and pathos, and the scenes with George Michael and Clive Owen really utilised their talent and star quality.

I've also been enjoying Bleak House. Not new I know, but I missed it the first time round, so I've been recording it on UKTV Drama. It's great to come down in the morning and find another couple of episodes ready to watch.


I missed The Old Curiosity Shop thanks to the DH recording two football shows (thanks Spurs / Reading for the 10 goal bonanza - how about imnproving your defence?).

Disappointingly, two of my festive faves weren't new this year, Celebrity Masterchef and Come Dine with Me. Both repeats. And I had to get my Nigella Christmas fix from UK TV Food. The Christmas show is I think only a year old, but it highlighted the huge difference between Nigella then and the recent Express programme. It's been written quite widely how she seems to have become a parody of herself. Too much finger wagging at the camera and double entendres. I blame the director. Nigella, make it a NY resolution to go back to being semi serious about the cooking?

Go Alesha!

After a long drawn out final which frankly became a bit tedious, the right finalist won and Alesha claimed the glitterball in the Strictly Come Dancing final.

In fact the most dramatic event of the evening was the announcement, because her head was drooping as if she was already defeated whereas Matt was beaming broadly as if he had already won.

The promised fare of five dances including a show dance was a little disappointing because in reality it was only two new dances - one to the judge's choice of music and the other the show dance. What with that, and the endless reminders of their "journeys," and the whole thing was in danger of being rescued only by Bruce's singing and the Spice Girls (and didn't Geri used to get a turn at singing too? Is that her punishment?).

I am so tired of hearing about the celebrities' journeys. It's not as if they're St Paul on the Damascus road. For Matt, Kelly and others, it was simply putting into practice what they were taught at Sylvia Young's. No matter how much they protest otherwise, dancing is part of the curriculum. But still they squirm around and pretend it's all new to them.

Alesha was good right from the start and hardly had a wobble throughout the competition. It was difficult to see how she had any sort of "journey" because she didn't need to improve, except for the judges' nit picking about foot positions. Matt did show massive improvement, but it was more a case of applying himself and concentrating because he always did have the talent but probably couldn't be arsed most of the time. I was very relieved when Alesha won because I feared the gurning kid would score votes big-time from all the EastEnders fans and teenage girls.

I don't know when they record the Christmas Day special, when Alesha and Matt take on previous winners. I doubt if it's being recorded after last night, so it can't be seen as Matt's opportunity for retribution. I didn't think I would hear myself say this, but I'll be glad that SCD has finished. Too drawn out and over hyped!

Oliver Twist hits the mark

As far as Oliver Twist is concerned, I am a hard nut to crack. As a child I was bowled over by the Lionel Bart musical, film version, and bought the book and the record. I still love that film, and when I saw Roman Polanski's version a couple of years ago, it just didn't compare.

So it was with sore misgivings that I started watching the BBC's new adaptation, being broadcast for four days this week. But what a treat! I am even starting to think my perceptions of the film are very overrated as the character development was minimal.

In the BBC version, the characters are all richly drawn. Even Oliver, who has always appeared too wimpy and submissive for my liking. He behaves like you would expect a child incacerated in a workhouse, beaten and starved, to behave. He is feisty but, confronted with the love that he desperately craves, trusting and open.

I'm looking at Mr Brownlow in a new way too. In the film he comes over as a nice enough old cove, happy to take in a rugamuffin. In this version, he is anguished and sad, and we learn why.

I'm also seeing Fagin in a new light thanks to Timothy Spall's sensitive portrayal. In the film he's all avarice and picking pockets (or two). In this version, we wonder about his background, his heritage.

All in all, it's a magnificant version and I'm really enjoying it. The only character to me who seems weak is Bill Sikes, but I probably am a bit biased in that to me, the Oliver Reed version will be hard to beat. He had much more menace and charisma.

Another treat, The Old Curiosity Shop, awaits us next week; and there's also a re-run of David Copperfield, starring Daniel Radcliffe before he was Harry Potter, on one of the satellite channels. This is all good news for those of us who like Dickens and loathe Jane Austen! Let us hope the fashion for Pride and Prejudice and all those other twee, arch dramas has now passed, and maybe we will see more from Dickens, George Eliot and, heaven forbid, Thomas Hardy.

Thoughts on the Strictly final

After a thriller of a semi-final, Alesha and surprisingly Matt go through to the final next Saturday. Presumably the public will decide who wins. I can't see how the judges could overrule when The Public is already being urged to phone. On that basis, I am sad to say that Matt di Angelo will probably win. As I've said before, the voting demographic (teenage girls, middle-aged women) is more likely to vote for a 20 year old male than Alesha, who hasn't had so much of a "journey" on the show because she danced well from the start.

I'm disappointed that Gethin didn't get through to the final, mainly for Camilla's sake. She looked stricken even before the dance off, because unless Matt forgot his steps in a repeat of last week's performance, his 40 out of 40 score was going to be impossible to beat.

But credit to the kid, as we call him, in that he showed enough strength of character to bounce back after last week's hideous performance.

I'm actually more excited about the other SCD show that's on during the Christmas period - the one where past winners Mark Ramprakash and Darren Gough take on this year's finalists. The actual final, to me, is too much of a foregone conclusion now.

Meanwhile, I spotted an ad in the Radio Times for an SCD tour in Jan and Feb where past contestants including Zoe Ball, Darren Gough, James Martin and Letitita Dean compete in front of the judges and the audience decides who wins. Fab!! I will be assembling a small posse to attend!