Making my mind up to give up Eurovision

This is very sad, very momentous. But after goodness knows how many years, I am giving up the Eurovision Song Contest.

I knew the rot had set in when I didn't bother to watch the two semi-finals this week. Then I heard that the UK entry is 100 to 1 and considered by the bookies to be our worst ever entry. Seeing as we've finished in the bottom three for the last three years, that doesn't bode well. The song is actually OK - not a novelty song - and Andy Abrahams is OK. But unless you're from the FSU or your country ends with "ia" you might as well go home.

It used to be fun, even the political voting. But it's just got worse and worse over recent years and now it's too much of a choker to contemplate, seeing buffoons in pirate costumes or people who should only be singing at karaoke bars, and then seeing the countries that fund the wretched thing ending up at the bottom.

So tonight I will be watching a film and a long standing tradition dies.

Make time to smell the roses

This is the time of year when gardens and hedgerows look their best. Even along the M25 I marvelled at the lushness of the elderflower and the profusion of white frothy flowers on the cow parsley.
In my beloved rose garden, the roses have burst into flower. I have two types, both pink and both David Austin English roses: Gertrude Jekhyll (pictured), a deep pink that's both hardy and highly scented, and Sceptered Isle, paler pink cup shaped blooms. Both are inclined to be climbers so they get a bit leggy as summer progresses. At this time of year, they're in fine form with no pesky diseases. Although I must say this year I am eschewing sprays which are friendly to ladybirds etc in favour of chemical warfare, to try to prevent a recurrence of last year's black fly.

My love of roses came from my dad, Stamps. I was only about seven when, in driving rain, he painstakingly cut out a circular flower bed in the front lawn. For many years it was filled with roses. I remember going by in a coach on a Sunday school outing and Mrs Newnham remarking on the garden with the roses. I told her proudly it was mine.
Stamps loved Ena Harkness, a deep red, highly scented, which is quite disease prone and has a bad habit, so it's not a rose many plant nowadays. That one sprawled over the back fence. It wasn't a very profuse bloomer: literally one magnificent flush and that was that, whereas my Austin roses start in April or May and happily perform until October. He also loved Wendy Cussons, a pink. I remember the arrival of Superstar, a new genre of highly coloured, highly perfumed hybrid tea roses. Shockingly vermillion, my mum thought it was a bit loud. Meanwhile she and Stamps both had an irrational dislike for Iceberg, which I thought was a shame so I used to put my egg shells around it.
My grandma loved Peace and not surprisingly this was the rose that we insisted on at the garden of remembrance, although it never really flourished.

Shrill Sara gets the boot

The Apprentice, Week Eight

Apart from her beauty it was hard to see what Sara Dhada had in the way of skills to contribute to Sir Alan's empire. Her voice was her worst feature: sometimes shrill, generally monotonous. She always seemed to be on the defensive, and when she did try to sell, she came across as hard and aggressive.

So in last night's bridal challenge, Sara was the evictee, although it was difficult to choose between her, leader Helene and the oily Michael. Notice how Sir Alan shrewedly put all the weakest contestants in one team? Alex was there too, and I don't think he's impressing Sir Alan. He's been on the losing side far too often and always seems more interested in covering his own back than anything else. He clearly lacks confidence with all the facial gurning and lip biting that he does.

Helene's team lost the challenge, to sell bridal dresses and a range of accessories at the NEC bridal fayre, by selling mid-priced dresses that looked somewhat downmarket. Ditto the wedding cakes. They sold five dresses but no cakes. Alex did most of the selling and to give him his due, he is a grafter. Helene did nothing apart from flounce around in one or two of the wedding dresses, like Boudica inspecting her flotilla.

Sara and Michael tried to sell the cakes and got increasingly desperate as the day went on.

Meanwhile over at the other booth, Lee was putting his charm to good use by selling "fongs", bikinis and sandalls, and delighting the women of Birmingham by under-guessing their true size; Claire was doing a great job giving nervous brides the right messages about the expensive Ian Stewart bridal gowns, and Lucinda was a beacon of calm, becoming stronger by the task. Only Raef seemed a little out of his comfort zone. But in the boardroom, he readily admitted to having pushed for the top of the range bridal gowns, even though they only sold three and all these at the end of the afternoon. Had the team lost, he would have taken the rap.

Three candidates are now looking very strong to me: Raef, who is a true gentleman with strong ethics and principles; Lee, who combines an outgoing nature and charm with the ability to understand when to challenge and when to follow, and Lucinda, who instinctively knows how to get the best out of people. Claire seems a little more average to me: a good operator but probably limited in her potential.

Gird your loins - it's nearly here!!

The Eurovision Song Contest, live from Belgrade, Serbia, May 24

There's no middle ground as far as the Eurovision is concerned. You either love it or you hate it. Those who hate it look at you as if you're mad. Lighten up, I cry: it's a bit of a laugh! It's irony incarnate. It's kitsch. It's the only thing that unites everyone in Europe (and a few others like Israel).

So what's in store on May 24? And before that, in the two semi-finals? (April 20 and 22).

Well, UK doesn't have to compete in the semi-finals. Thank goodness! Because we'd never make it to the final. Along with Germany, France and Spain we fund it so we get a wild card or a free bus pass or whatever you like to call it.

What I don't understand is why we (the UK) are not allowed to vote in the first semi-final. I had already promised Kurt I would cast a solitary vote for Belgium, and then what happens? Belgium are in the first semi. I can't believe it's because Ireland are in the first semi. I mean, come on!! They never give us all their points and we only give them a few. It's not like the Swedes giving the Danes 12 every time, or Georgia giving Russia 12, or Croatia giving Serbia (need I go on about the nuances of the voting system?). We and the Irish have a bit of dignity and pride!

Anyway, down to the matter of form. This year it's all about the novelty act. There are several! Ireland has Dustin the turkey, a puppet singing "Irelande douze pointe". Clearly the Irish invested a lot in the lyrics. We're talking Lennon McCartney in their prime:
Hello Abba, hello Bono, hello Helsinki,
Hola Prague, hello sailor, c’est la vie,
Auf wiedersehen, mamma mia and God save the Queen
G’day Austria, bonjour Serbia, you know what I mean

Other novelty acts include Latvia with Pirates of the Sea singing Wolves of the Sea (I think there may be a theme going on here), and Croatia, fielding an elderly gentleman doing some rapping.

As for "Royaume Uni" (that's us), we have no chance whatsoever. We never do these days, with the Baltic bloc vote, but the trouble is this year we have a fairly decent song and a fairly decent singer, but it's all a bit...well, fairly decent and average. Not a nil pointe but it won't be giving Terry Wogan palpitations either.

The official Eurovision site, by the way, is worth checking out...not only can you see each participant and hear their song, you can see the lyrics too!

Stay tooned to this blog - there's more to come I'm afraid.

A most condescending article

Most journalism is fairly run of the mill. Now and then, an article strikes a chord and becomes memorable to me, either because of the subject matter or because of the way it was written.

Yesterday's Sunday Times had an article by Lesley White about John Prescott and his wife Pauline which was memorable because of the latter. It was extremely patronisng and condescending.

White clearly went to the interview with preconceived notions about the couple. She was snooty and sniffy about their house and its location, and some of their interests and habits: Pauline's love of champagne and handbags and her tidiness. You would think she had been confronted with Hyacinth Bouquet herself. Maybe Lesley White comes from "old money" where tidiness and cleanliness (and children) have a very low priority compared to dogs and muddy boots; a world where working class people know their place and don't attempt to better themselves. There wss a touch of ire about her tone that suggested she was aggrieved the Prescotts had done so well considering he failed his 11 plus. I am amazed people still talk about such things.

By the end of the interview, White had grudgingly grown to respect Pauline who seems a towering figure of strength. But her description of bone china cups, highly polished photo frames and cucumber sandwiches will live on in my memory.

I still carry with me the disbelief I felt, many years ago, when I read an interview between Jilly Cooper and Robert Redford. To me at that age, Cooper was ordinary with a desperately old-fashioned hairstyle (which she still has) and gappy teeth. I couldn't believe my eyes when she angled the whole article around the fact that Redford had not found her attractive, and he hadn't done much for her either. I remember saying to my mum, "does she seriously think he would fancy her?"

I also remember an article in She magazine at the time when the film Shirley Valentine was getting the sort of attention that Sex and the City gets now. The writer was excited about meeting Pauline Collins, who played Shirley Valentine, and hoping she would be similar in character. Instead, I remember the writer saying how bitterly disappointed she was when Collins was snippy and rude, quick to brush aside any suggestion that she was like Shirley.

The power of the written word is one reason why printed publications will never go away, in my view.

Selfish Profiteering

It's summer and the snakes in the grass are out in force. Three of them: Cherie Blair, John Prescott and Lord Levy.

They've all published their tedious autobiographies which have one thing in common: let's have a go at the prime minister, Gordon Brown.

I can't think what good is served by the odious trio and their selfish profiteering. Cherie must be the only PM's wife to ever write her account of "what happened". Presumably her motives are twofold: pay for the monstrosity of a house they have just bought, and try to restore Tony's reputation so that history doesn't only remember him as one of two idiots who took us to an unnecessary war.

It's less clear to me what the motives of Prescott the bulimic and Lord Levy are. As they glory in their cheques from the newspaper serialisations, perhaps they should muse over their cornflakes on the opinion polls and the recent savaging in the local government elections, and wonder how much of a negative impact their books are having on their own party. So much for loyalty, eh?

The Jennys are out

The Apprentice UK, week 7

Two departures from The Apprentice this week, which added an extra bit of zing to the Moroccan flavour.

The two Jennys, "Europe's best salesperson," Jennifer Maguire and redhead Jenny Celerier were sent on their way by Sir Alan. Not a minute too soon either. I had had quite enough of Jenny C's relentlessly clashing colours. Pink with red hair simply does not go, dear! And I felt she should have gone last week after the eco card disaster.

Last night though Jenny C really showed herself in her true colours (not just pink), and she more or less admitted in the subsequent Adrian Chiles' programme that she did change her story as dynamics changed in the boardroom.

She emerged as manipulative and keen to win at any cost, no matter how much it cost in terms of integrity or respect. Jennifer, on the other hand, simply lost the task because she lost the plot, not because of any Machiavellian tactics or inherent evil.

The two teams were sent to Morocco and given a very specific list of items to buy. Jennifer's mistake was rushing off to the soukh without any planning; probably not realising the size of the thing and how it's structured. She didn't pay any attention to detail, and failed to utilise pushy Claire, who seems strong in this regard.

Lee's team did do some planning - they knew where the Jewish quarter was for buying the kosher chicken, which was key to the whole thing - and it was good to see victimised Sara and Lucinda performing well, even though Lee kept them under a tight leash.

It was a chicken and a tagine that cost Jennifer's team dear. Jenny and the dreadful Michael ("good Jewish boy," who doesn't know what kosher means) bought their chicken from a Muslim butcher with some ridiculous nonsense about the butcher blessing it. Meanwhile Alex, whose constant gurning is driving me nuts, bought any old tagine instead of the branded one Sir Alan had specified. The team had to rush around looking for a green mosque alarm clock after Jennifer bought a white one by mistake.

In the boardroom Jenny C tried to stitch everyone up to save her skin but Sir Alan is shrewd enough to see through this in an instant. She will never forget her 35th birthday!

Jennifer's departure was then a foregone conclusion because she spent the whole task running around like a headless chicken. She looked very scary in the boardroom with her acid yellow top and bright red lipstick. Somehow she and Jenny played the whole series like a throwback to the 80s where it was assumed that women had to act aggressively to get on: to cheat, sneak, plot and boast.


I'm confident enough now to make a prediction for the final three: Lee, Claire (she got a "love" from Sir Alan yesterday) and Raef. What do you think?

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!