Irrationally excited about the dentist

I think I've mentioned before that I've always enjoyed a visit to the dentist. I prefer it far more than going to the hairdresser. All that personal attention, and no need to make conversation!

Well this time next week I will probably be looking like a chipmunk but at least it will be gone. A wretched lower wisdom tooth which has been trying to force its way to the surface for nearly a year.

The funny thing was, I thought I'd had my wisdom teeth out years ago, in the dentist's chair. Like a trooper I came home on the bus on my own and was eating within an hour. I always disparaged those who went to hospital for such a small procedure.

Well, as Mr Ali told me this week, we have upper and lower wisdom teeth. The uppers are the ones removed in the dentist's chair. The lowers, when they have to come out, are generally removed in hospital. In my case, I have a cyst as well and it's all very close to a nerve, so I will be under a general anaesthetic.

I expect I'll be the only patient they've had who's so excited about an op. I'll be asking if I can have the offending molar, so if you're lucky I may treat you to a pic next week!

My mum is coming to stay next weekend and I asked her what the going rate is for the tooth fairy these days, but she muttered something about me being too old for all of that. Next thing she'll be telling me is that Father Christmas doesn't exist.

Celebrities + Apprentice: great combo

Comic Relief has featured a couple of episodes of Celebrity Apprentice. But these were only shorts. What's good about the series being shown late on BBC1, on Monday evenings, is that it's a full - length series, Celebrity Apprentice USA.

To start with, I didn't think I would be grabbed. I've heard of about 5 of the participants - Stephen Baldwin, Gene Simmons, Nadia Comeneci, Lennox Lewis and the ubiquitous Piers Morgan - but the rest were unknowns. 

But get all those egos into one show, and make them deliver on real challenges, with the proceeds going to a charity each week, and it becomes a winning combination.

In the second show, the two teams had to produce a TV advert for Pedigree pet foods promoting a homeless dog scheme.

In the men's team, Gene Simmons (Kiss) and Stephen Baldwin decided to run the show single handed as project manager and director, and sent everyone else back to the hotel. Except for their acting talent, our own Lennox Lewis. The idea was that you have a big heavyweight boxing champion going all soft and mushy over a poor unloved pug dog.

So convinced were they of success they didn't even take the brief from the client, and managed to offend one of the judges, Trump's daughter Ivanka, in the process. (Both judges are Trump offspring. Isn't nepotism great?).

So you were imaging they were setting themselves up for disaster and the women's team, led by a TV executive with a most peculiar face (the effects of botox) would cruise to victory.

And quite the reverse happened. Lennox was so engaging in the ad, and it was so simple, everyone adored it and Pedigree will now use it on TV.

I had to smile because the lessons learnt from this episode are not conventional:

• get on with it if you have a great idea and don't bother consulting with clients or colleagues
• it's OK to ruffle the feathers of people you don't think are that important (Ivanka Trump) if you're convinced you're going to succeed.

Just a pity that Nadia Comeneci was fired. The women celebrities are all a bit nicey-nicey with each other and the one that should have got the boot didn't even get nominated.

Worth setting up your Sky+ folks. Catch the first two episodes on iPlayer.

The picnic concert season

I'm a sucker for picnic concerts, which is unfortunate given the vagaries of the English summer. The last time we went to one of the English Heritage picnic concerts, at Kenwood House, we needed umbrellas and the picnic rug doubled as, well, a rug round the legs, as it got a bit nippy.

The picnicking hoardes

Undeterred, I booked a while ago for a more local picnic concert, this time at historic Copped Hall and featuring the New Redbridge Wind Orchestra.

And, hallejuha, the weather held off. There were sunny intervals which more than compensated for the fact it was blowing a gale. And a beer tent selling Pimm's. What more could you want?

Admiring the walled garden (Pimm's in hand)

Copped Hall is a fascinating place, dating from the 12th century. Queen Mary, Henry VIII's daughter with Katherine of Aragon, lived there (or more accurately, was imprisoned there for a time). Unfortunately it was badly damaged by fire in 1917. Since then its future has been in doubt many times with developers trying to get their hands on the parkland. However in 1996 the Corporation of London bought the parkland and the Copped Hall Trust now own the mansion and gardens.

There are regular events to raise money as the renovation continues, including tours of the gardens. We were surprised at how fine the gardens are, particularly the walled garden. And the views are spectacular. You would never guess you're so close to the M25.

So thrilled was I with the picnic concert that I nearly booked one for Saturday, care of a last minute Groupon deal: Elton John at Hatfield House. J was reluctant however so I didn't, and seeing as it rained most of the day on Saturday, we had a lucky escape!

Two nations divided by a common language

While I could never be accused of having Received Pronunciation, I do speak the Queen's English quite proper like, so it's always baffling that as soon as I set foot on US soil, no-one can understand me. I find myself Americanising the tomato  (tom-ay-to) and water (wadder) as well as turning objects like pavements into sidewalks, taxis into cabs and lifts into elevators.

Our US friends have taken quite a few liberties with the language. Goodness knows what happened to aluminium in the translation (aloomin-um). Anonymous and I have a real "thing" about the phrase "I'll be with you monentarily." Aaargh! In a moment!

I read a lot of US fiction by writers like Sue Miller and Anita Shreve. There are many words and phrases which, to start with, I had no idea what they were. These include:
- Jello  (I think it's an equivalent to jam, as opposed to a wobbly jelly?)
- the bleachers
- Sophomores
- Phi Beta Kappa
- Goodwill  (charity shops?)
- the boardwalk
- Ivy League
- WASP
And then there are phrases which are quite innocuous in the US, like fanny and shag, which have entirely different meanings here. I remember being appalled as a teenager reading Elizabeth Taylor's diet tips where she gave exercises to tighten the fanny. How rude, I thought! But she meant "butt," to use another cute Americanism, or as we would say, bottom, behind or posterior (if we were very posh.)

I'm sure my US readers can reciprocate with words we use which have no meaning to you - any takers?

PS on Grimaldi wedding

So here it is, for 400 Wakeups, a couple of pictures of the wedding of Prince Albert and the new Princess Charlene of Monaco.

It's been alleged that poor Charlene attempted to do a runner no less than three times: the first when she went to Paris for a dress fitting and another during the Monaco Grand Prix. No wonder she was seen crying a few times during the church ceremony.

I have to say that looking at the Hello! coverage, it struck me that the couple didn't look very happy. When she cried, Albert looked at her quizzically. There are no touching or tender looks. The kiss was really awkward - I'm sure a body language expert would have a field day. But she looked beautiful in an amazing regal dress by Armani. The bridesmaids wore a traditional Monagasque costume which looked like fancy dress.

As for the supporting cast, well it turns out Princess Caroline is estranged from Prince Ernst, so he wasn't there. She and Princess Stephanie were seen together on several occasions so they must be on speaking terms. Caroline's four children looked stunning, as did the girlfriends of sons Andrea (second in line to the throne) and Pierre.

Caroline's outfit has grown on me (right, in the turquoise maxi and rafia hat with yellow flowers). Her eldest daughter was also wearing a rafia hat. Stephanie, on the left, wore outfits in a similar colour for both ceremonies. I don't want to be mean because I like her very much, but she seems to be an example to us all of what the sun can do to your skin.

Here is the Earl of Wessex, also wearing fancy dress, and the Countess of Wessex, who represented the Queen. The wedding was stuffed to the gunnels with royalty of all descriptions, mostly minor.

Let's hope they all live happily ever after!

Andy Murray and David Haye: what a disaster

I don't watch tennis anymore. I was a huge fan of Wimbledon a few years ago, but I don't bother now. I find it too painful to witness the feverish hope and expectation for the British players, followed by the inevitable letdown and disappointment.

Both Tim Henman and Andy Murray were among the world's top players (Murray is #4 right now) but both are chokers. Murray has now bombed in, what, four semi-finals?

The problem to me, as an observer, is psychological. He was quoted as saying "I CAN beat the world's top player, if the centre court audience gets behind me."

I have a big problem with that. It seems he's already put Nadal on a pedestal and is admitting it's unlikely he'll beat him. Yet surely any player in the top 20 can topple another. I doubt if the eventual winner Novak Dojokovic was counting on centre court support to beat the world's top player. He just woke up thinking to himself "I'm going to crucify that &@!!!!!"

I wish the British tennis players would show a bit more aggression and ambition. They seem to lack the killer instinct.

I hesitate to use David Haye as an example, seeing as he was defeated over the weekend too, but he generated a lot of hype and excitement by continually criticising his rival, Vladimir Klitschko, in the run-up to the heavyweight boxing championship.

Now Haye is blaming a broken toe for his defeat, and I think it's feeble and mealy-mouthed of him. He and his trainer took the decision that his toe wouldn't cause a problem and went ahead with the bout. So he can't now blame the injury. He went the distance. It's a sad end to his career, because he'll be remembered as a cry baby rather than a good (not great) boxer. I doubt if Klitschko will agree to a rematch. Why should he? He won fair and square. Hang up your gloves Haye and focus on your acting ambitions.

Oh we love a good Grimaldi wedding

I am greatly cheered by the prospect of another Big Fat Royal Wedding, the marriage of His Serene Highness Prince Albert of Monaco and the statuesque former swimmer Charlene Wittstock.

Everything about the Grimaldis is high drama, fashion and controversy.

Why, just a few days ago the bride attempted to do a runner, with a one-way ticket to her homeland of South Africa, after apparently learning about a new indiscretion by her fiance, who already has two illegitimate children.

The palace was even forced to deny this has happened (which means it must have), and Charlene was duly paraded through the streets withj Albert keeping a tight grip on her arm.

We are told she was "persuaded to stay," although the confiscation of her passport may have  had something to do with it.Monaco is a tiny place noted for tax exiles and described as "a sunny place for shady people" by W Somerset Maugham. But its high profile royals assure the principality of acres of column inches.

My favourite, you will recall, is Princess Stephanie, now 45. She married a former bodyguard but they divorced not long afterwards. She then had another baby and the father has never been revealed (but is believed to be another bodyguard). She has been a gymnast, a swimmingwear designer and a popstar, and has dated, excitingly, acrobats and lion tamers.

It seems she is often at odds with her elder sister Princess Caroline because they're often not pictured together. Let's hope there is an entente cordiale for tomorrow.

I wonder if Caroline's husband, Prince Ernst of Hanover, aka "the fighting prince," will be there? It is rumoured that he and Caroline are more or less separated. Caroline has three wonderfully attractive children. Her eldest daughter very closely resembles the younger Caroline.

The British royal family will be represented by the rather D list Prince Edward and Sophie, although Sophie could surprise us. She has a personal trainer and is experimenting with fashion, so we could be in for a Princess Beatrice style makeover.

The Monaco royal wedding is a two-day affair, tomorrow and Saturday. Can't wait!

Thyme and history

We've just got back from our annual holiday in Greece. We went to the island of Kefalonia, the biggest of the Ionians.


On arrival I was surprised at how modern and prosperous the island looked. I had forgotten to swot up from my book of Greek islands and didn't know the island had suffered a terrible earthquake in 1953 which destroyed 90% of the buildings. So it lacks the little white houses of Greece, but strewn around the hillside you can see the ruined buildings.

It's a very lush and green island, heavy with the smells of thyme and rosemary which grow everywhere.

Our base was the beautiful hotel Regina Dell Acqua in Skala, built on a hill with a stunning infinity pool.

We learnt a lot of the history of Kefalonia when we took the ferry to nearby Ithaca, the smallest Ioanian island. Odysseus is believed to have very strong links with both places and we saw a bust of him in the square of Stavros village. There we also sampled the Ithacan speciality, rovani, a sticky honey cake. We learnt the origin of the phrase "beware of Greeks bearing gifts." When Oddyseus built the wooden horse to reclaim Helen of Troy, it was assumed to be a gift from a defeated army. The "victors" went off to celebrate, the horse opened and out ran Odysseus and his top soldiers who overran the Greeks and claimed victory after a 10 year war. 

On an outing to the capital of Kefalonia, Argostoli, we happened to be there for a ceremony to mark the Special Olympics which take place in Athens in July. With a great deal of fanfare athletes ran by, a torch burned and Kefalonian dancers entertained us.

Our return home unfortunately coincided with the Greek national strike. The tiny island airport had queues of people snaking around the building. The problem appeared to be that all the check-in PCs were down. I'm not sure if this was strike related. The pilot referred to it as a "bit of a kerfuffle" at the airport. It was an amazing achievement that everyone was checked in manually, laboriously, with hand written boarding passes.

All in all a fabulous holiday! I'll add some photos when Blogger gets over its picture problem - I have tried with two different browsers but no good.

Eligible Royals: a shopping guide for Pippa Middleton

Pippa Middleton, sister of the Duchess of Cambridge (formerly known as Waity Katie) is no longer with her banker boyfriend, according to The Sunday Times. I hope the split wasn't too traumatic for her, given that she had the major disappointment this week of being beaten by Carol Vorderman to the title "Rear of the Year."

The tabloids and gossip mags will work themselves up into a frenzy over who should date the fragrant maid of honour.

No doubt we will be told that she fell for Prince Harry and it was only a matter of time before the banker (deemed a bit boring by the gossip mags) was history.

My own theory is that she looked round on royal wedding day at the assembled royals, minor and major, and the various monied chinless wonders, all fawning over her, and thought "I'll have what she's having." 

May I suggest she draws up a list of eligible bachelors, starting with royals. Prince Harry should top the list: it would be truly fairy tale (if not vaguely sinister) to have two Middletons married to the heirs. New fascinators all round, and a new trousseau from Royal Warrant holders Reiss.

Prince Albert of Monaco is due to marry in a month, but a determined attempt could see off the wide shouldered swimmer. Failing that, Caroline's son Andrea is extremely good looking, though may have a long wait before he becomes king.

Then there's Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, although as he's unlikely to become king unless disaster should befall his two sisters, so probably of less interest.

If heirs are a priority, may I present the Crown Prince of Jordan, Hussein bin Abdullah (pictured). And Jordan is so handy for Dubai with all that glittering duty free shopping! He's only 15 so Pippa may have to play the long game, but hey, anything her sister can do....

Finally, if she'd rather just marry for money, I suggest Arpad "Arki" Busson,  the playboy financier, who has an on and off relationship with Uma Thurman. Or perhaps Sir Stelios Haji-Ioannou,  As an added bonus, he lives in Monaco, so Pippa could start socialising with the Grimaldis, particularly Caroline's very attractive children, and all those F1 drivers. Plus a private jet could come in handy, even if it is orange and based at Luton.

On my bicycle

I saw a 70s bike propped up against the wall yesterday. Memories came flooding back. When I was a kid, the Raleigh Chopper was the bike to have, although I preferred the dainty Raleigh Twenty (pictured). I didn't have a bike until I was about 10. It was my brother's cast-off, and he had had it second hand.
I was very excited to take my bike to the Cycling Proficiency Scheme, where first of all a friendly PC was going to check our bikes for roadworthiness. Unfortunately mine fell at the first hurdle! I came home in tears, and then something brilliant happened. My parents weren't very well off, and we did something unheard of: we went to Halford's and they bought me a new bike. It was a Tri-Ang Golden Arrow, not a bit cool, but I loved it anyway. I managed to pass the cycling proficiency.
The years went by, and bikes and me were not mutually compatible. I tend to want to get off when there's too much traffic around. And in London you're constantly afraid someone will steal it.
Anyway, in 1999 I went to live in Munich or a short period, and having a bike there was a must. I went to a specialist shop and bought a beautiful ladies' bike for 500 marks, which was quite a lot of money then.
I would cycle along the Isar and go to the Englischer Garten on Sundays, or down to my friend's house. It was idyllic.
The bike came back to the UK with me but hasn't had many sorties since. A lot of cycling goes on in nearby Epping Forest but you need a mountain bike for that.

On our cycling holiday

Five years ago J dragged me and his equally unwilling daughter on a cycling holiday: five days in Shropshire / Wales.
It was a revelation, cycling along unclassified roads in the countryside with hardly any traffic. In the evening we would arrive at a hotel, our bags having been sent on by road, and it was very rewarding to have a bath and big dinner after cycling for 30 miles.
How about you and bikes?

Alice's bucket list

Something extraordinary happened on Twitter last night. In between the tweets discussing The Apprentice, a tweet appeared saying that Alice, a 15 year old with terminal cancer, wanted to trend on Twitter: please re-tweet. I did - as did everyone else - because an hour or so later when I checked, #alicebucketlist was in the top 10 global hash tags.

Alice created her bucket list a few days ago: the things she wants to do before she dies. She wrote in her blog last night that she and her mum were overwhelmed by all the messages, and she had only started the blog for her friends and family, never expecting it would be seen by such a huge audience. She currently has over 2000 comments and her bucket list wishes will all be fulfilled, except the trip to Kenya which she can't do because she is too poorly now.

Her wishes aren't particularly grandiose like those in the film "The Bucket List" where Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman went round the world ticking off the items on theirs. She wants a picture with her dog Mabel; she wants someone to do her hair (if they can); she wants a purple iPAD, although her mum had told her not to post that one. She wants to go to Cadbury World and eat lots of chocolate. And she wants everyone to donate bone marrow.

If I'm ever tempted to complain or grumble I will think of Alice and her bucket list.

How to do customer service - by Amazon

There was an article this week about the chap who's taken over as MD at ailing UK bookstore Waterstones. He was confident that reinvigorating the shops would send shock waves reverberating across Amazon. His assessment was that we're not brand loyal to Amazon.

I think his view is a little naive and misguided. Amazon have indeed built brand loyalty and in the good old-fashioned way, by being excellent at what they do and making it easy to do business with them.

I was astonished by their superb Kindle customer service this week.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a new Kindle because my original model, the DX, looks a bit big and old-fashioned now (and doesn't fit in a handbag). Unfortunately it stopped working, so on Monday - note, a bank holiday - I contacted Amazon UK, or rather, they rang me. You enter your phone number on the website and ask for a call back. They rang immediately, and had all my details to hand. And, joy, it was a British call centre. A small thing to ask for, but it makes all the difference.

I was promised a replacement Kindle the next day and sent an email describing how to return the defective one. This included a link to DHL, so that I could arrange for them to collect it at a time convenient to me   and the pre-paid label to use.

The new Kindle arrived as promised the next day - and how many companies would send out a new gadget to replace an old one they haven't had back yet? They give you 30 days to return it and if you haven't, your credit card gets charged again.

DHL collected the defective one today, as arranged.

Amazing service. What could be easier?

I was soon up-and-running with the replacement because all the books I have bought (99!) are easily transferred between my Kindles and other devices.

So to get back to my opening paragraph, I will still pop into Waterstones occasionally. But I'll be "Waterstoning"  (a new verb) - ie, making notes of books that look interesting and then buying them from Amazon. I'm told Waterstones will launch their own e-reader but they have a very steep hill to climb to better either the Kindle or Amazon's customer service and number of e-books.

Getting ready for Greece

Now....are  you a last minute holiday booker, or do you book a long time in advance?
I am very much in the latter camp. The summer holiday is always booked in January, when it's a bit flat after Christmas, and I then have several months to get ready. And progressively more excited. Preparation includes losing a few pounds (I buy clothes in a smaller size to make sure I do it) and accumulating various items and clothes. 

Top of the list:

- a new basket. It goes to the pool or beach with me along with a towel, ipod, earphones, sun lotions, comb, Kindle, etc. This year's basket  (left) was bought on a visit to my Mum's in Plymouth and was produced by the RHS.





- a new set of matching sponge bag and cosmetic and make-up bags

- At least 12 books: I usually read one a day on holiday. Thank goodness for the Kindle. It was no fun carrying 12 books.

- new flip flops and silver sandals.

- three new Saress(es) with a matching hat and hat band  (yes I know.....) These are  a great invention and ideal for wearing from pool to lunch. Unlike pareos or sarongs, these are very easy to put on and always look nice.



This year's wash bag



- sun lotions when they are two for the price of one, or half price. They're a complete rip off when you buy them abroad.

Once at the resort the first thing we buy is a lilo.  It gets left behind at the end of the holiday for someone else to enjoy.   I wonder what this year's lilo trend is?

I did a last minute holiday once, when I was living in Munich. A friend and I went to the airport and bought a holiday to Crete which was departing in three days. It was very cheap and the view from the room was the air conditoning plant. After that I resolved I would always try to book early when you have lots of choice. What's your approach?

Sublime dining at Dinner by Heston

A new entry in the Gail Top Ten Restaurants is Dinner by Heston - straight in at number two. Quite surprising when you consider that I am no lover of molecular dining. But this isn't Heston Blumenthal's normal gig. I've been to the Fat Duck, his Michelin two starred restaurant at Bray, and while the tasting menu is a fascinating experience, I will not, on Death Row, ask for smokey bacon ice-cream or snail porridge as my final repast.

What's different about Dinner, his new venture at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in London, is that he has lovingly recreated old English recipes; giving thrilling twists to some and simply enhancing others, while using the best produce.

What makes the restaurant so special is the combination of wonderful food with a beautiful room; a fantastic view of Hyde Park, and the most passionate and knowledgeable staff I've ever encountered.

So many fine dining restaurants are spoilt for me by pretentious legions of snooty waiters. At Le Gavroche, for example, you have a whole flotilla of people serving you: someone for the bread, the water, the wine, the food. Woe betide you if you ask the bread waiter for water. Meanwhile, at the other scale, there are restaurants where you are left languishing. Where, for example, the next course arrives before the plates have been cleared away. None of that at Dinner.



For starters, I should have chosen what's quickly become the star of the menu -Meat Fruit (left), circa 1500, which contains mandarin and chicken liver parfait. How stunning it looks (and tastes, I was assured) - this mandarin shaped feast of smooth parfait. Instead I chose marrowbone, circa 1720, accompanied by parsley, anchovy and mace and pickled vegetables (right).

I was evidently so carried away with the main course I forgot to photograph it! I had a recipe dating from 1830 of roast turbot with cockle ketchup and chicory. And chips. Because here you are allowed to have chips and it's not a disgrace: also butter. I was recently at another place where the waiter snootily informed me they didn't provide butter "for health reasons." Unbelievably pompous given that a lot of people (myself included) only indulge in butter when we're in a restaurant.

Anyway, I digress. For pudding it had to be the baked lemon suet pudding, circa 1630, (left), with lemon, caramel and Jersey cream. To be honest, this was the most disappointing course. I remembered suet puddings from childhood being quite light. This had more the texture of pastry than sponge. I wished I'd perhaps had tipsy cake or summer tart instead.

With pudding we had a delicious rosebud tea. Instead of the usual menu of dessert wines and coffees, we were offered a tea menu. It reminded me of the challenge on The Apprentice where they had to source camomile flower tea and were offered a crate of it for £900. To the credit of the Dinner waitress, she explained that the most expensive tea was quite smokey and a definitely acquired taste. Such honesty is rare in the pursuit of filthy lucre. The rose tea, fat with rosebuds, was wonderfully delicate, and they refill the pot with hot water as many times as you like.

So - Dinner with Heston. So good I will go back with J, very soon. Or as soon as we can get a reservation. It  is booked solid for months.

Gail's Top 10 Restaurants (with links to my blog where I reviewed them)
1. Gidleigh Park, Devon
2. Dinner by Heston
3. Scott's
4. Caldesi in Campagna, Bray
5. TheWolseley
6. Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons
7. The Orrery
8. Benares
9. Hix Oyster & Chop House
10. E4

Some flotsam and jetsam

Hoorah for Princess Beatrice!
Showing the judgment and humour that has sadly eluded her parents all their life, Princess Beatrice has sold her much maligned RW hat on eBay, to raise money for charity. Could it be that Beatrice is going to show common sense and realism, in spite of her parents? Only a few days ago, Sarah, Duchess of York, was still spouting incomprehensible psycho-babble. "If I had a brand identity, it would be as a global mother." ??? Beatrice said she hoped whoever bought the hat would have as much fun with it as she had.

And hoorah for Twitter while we're about it
So many amusing tweets about the Premiership footballer and his affair with a Big Brother wannabe. There was talk that Ryan Giggs' solicitors were going to sue the 30,000 people on Twitter who had breached the Super Injunction (yep, that includes me). Another wag wrote that Ryan Giggs appears to be the only celebrity not being sued by the "mystery Premiership footballer".

I can't imagine the US owners of Twitter are quaking in their boots knowing that a few plummy English lawyers are apoplectic about their new cash cow, the Super Injunction, being proved worthless.  What can they actually do? They can hardly force the closure of Twitter. I for one am laughing at the way we, the good old British public, is having a laugh at the foibles of a foolish man who tried to cover up his folly by splashing the cash.

The unpredictable nature of cosmetic surgery
No wonder Sarah Jessica Parker has said she won't have cosmetic surgery because she doesn't want to end up looking mad. This week's photos of Marie Helvin, who has always maintained she's had nothing done (yeah, right) show her starting to look somewhat deranged. You'd think that with access to the best plastic surgeons that California has to offer, some of the maturing filmstars wouldn't look quite so dreadful. Faye Dunaway, for example, or Melanie Griffith  (although thankfully she is a little more restrained these days). It seems a bit of a lottery. You can either look wonderful, like Jane Fonda, Sharon Stone or Demi Moore, or rather weird, like Madonna, Cher, the Bride of Wildenstein and Ivana Trump. It's a pity they don't have a ratings system, like guest houses or Trip Advisor. Maybe that's a great idea for a new website.

From Vanda to Valderma

I was whiling away an hour, not drunkenly like Morrissey, but playing a favourite game which is: Googling nostalgic names from childhood.

It usually starts with long forgotten beauty products that dimly ring a bell. For example: Anne French cleansing lotion, which was the first cleanser I ever used. You can still buy it and it's cheap as chips. That got me thinking about Anne French Glow 5, a face mask. And then a luxury brand that disappeared in the early 80s, Charles of the Ritz.  My first ever eye cream, bought in Exmouth, was a Charles of the Ritz.

Then I looked up Vanda Beauty Counselor. (One L, it's American). Goodness knows how I remember this, but when I was about seven, I heard my mum saying that one of the neighbours was a rep for Vanda Beauty Counselor. I have Googled them previously and it was as if it was a figment of my imagination. But they must have got Internet savvy fairly recently because I found them! (Very poor website by the way and unlike Avon they don't sell online: you still have to see the rep).

Next up was old perfumes - discontinued ones. I'm obsessed. My mum's favourite was Memoire Cherie by Elizabeth Arden. Then they come in rapid succession: Yardley Prelude (I bought her a Prelude talc from the local chemist when I was about 10), Helena Rubinstein Apple Blossom, Avon Elusive, Moonwind and Occur!  (I just loved the exclamation mark).

From scent to soap, and I was thrilled to find you can still buy Valderma and Cidal soaps, which I tried as a teenager to get rid of spots. But not Albion Milk of Sulphur Soap. Lemon Delph cleanser has long since disappeared, as has Linco Beer shampoo (do you remember, it came in a barrel?).

I mentioned all this to my mum - we're frequently texting - and she challenged me to find a drink that my Gran was very partial to. "Odds on Cocktail."  I found an ad for it. It's always a bit of a eureka moment, isn't it? Whatever did we do without the Internet?

In search of a grubbing mattock

A "before" shot

When we bought our house six years ago, the back garden didn't need too much attention. The previous owners obviously knew their stuff and had created a wide border with a few trees and shrubs to shelter the garden, a decking area and a small lawn.

After

Gradually though the trees had become too big - particularly two awful leylandii - and part of the garden was subsequently always in shade. Ivy was rampant, no matter how much we tried to hack it back. So we decided to rip everything out.

Quite a shock when it finally happened. It's amazing how much bigger the garden looks. But also very bare and unwelcoming. The fence in particular is suddenly exposed, without its ivy coat, and looks ghastly.

The plan is to keep it fallow for a year, except for planting two trees in the autumn. Two small trees: I'm thinking an apple tree and a medlar.

In the meantime we'll be building up the soil and removing the ivy as it reappears. Which requires a special implement. Today J was on a mission: he wanted to get a grubbing mattock  (which I was mistakenly calling a grubbing matlock, as in Glen Matlock from the Sex Pistols). We visited B&Q, Homebase and Focus, but no such tool to be found. It eventually turned up in Wickes. Resembling a pickaxe, it was used by the professionals when they removed the roots.

Rose "Scepter'd Isle" from front garden

I'd love to create an English cottage garden, with delphiniums, lupins, hollyhocks, stocks, Sweet William, lobelia at the front. I'm also very taken with Monty Don's "jewel garden." And for me, you can never have too many roses. Our front border is looking splendid with the rose bushes groaning with blooms. Example on the left. Those roses are all pink, but in memory of my dad Stamps, I would like to acquire an old rose he loved, a red rose called "Ena Harkness," and plant it at the back.

Leave Eugenie and Beatrice alone

Will it ever stop? The endless jokes and tittle tattle about Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice, ever since they wore slightly less than flattering outfits (Eugenie) and headgear (Beatrice) at the Royal Wedding last week.

Today hatter Philip Treacy justifies the title "mad as...." by defending Beatrice's titfer.

The wretched hat has several Facebook sites.

Jibes about the hat are more or less fairly benign and humorous. But I imagine the girls - both very young - are hurt by the comments about their oufits and everything else that has been coming under attack. They both wore sensational outfits at the party following the wedding. Eugenie in particular looked stunning in a corseted black Vivienne Westwood number.

Remember we've all made style faux pas, particularly in our 20s. I've shared photos of mine on this very blog. So give the girls a break. The last thing we want is that they get lumbered with hideous complexes as their poor mother was. My only advice to the girls would be to find another milliner. One with their best interests at heart.

Fletcherising and fossils

The Internet has been an absolute gift to me as an inveterate searcher of trivia and facts. I'm able to satisfy any cravings for knowledge at the click of a mouse, and with my trusty smartphone, can even do it in the middle of the night as has been known.

Last night, for some reason, I remembered an elderly man I once interviewed when I was working as a gauche young reporter at BBC Radio Devon. His name was Edwin Beer and he was over 100. His great age, and the secrets of longevity, was the reason for the interview.

He was the first to use the disabled lift at our newish Exeter headquarters and was a fantastic raconteur. He told me that the secret to his longevity - and he was the second oldest man in Britain when he died at age 107 in 1986 - was Fletcherising.

This is the practice of chewing your food 32 times before swallowing, made popular in the early 1930s by Horace Fletcher.

Well, having remembered Edwin Beer, I began feverishly searching the web to see what I could learn about him. To start with I wasan't doing very well. There was a famous urologist called Edwin Beer and a famous sculptor called Edwin Beer Fishley. But recalling that he had told me he was involved with the invention of the fake silk, rayon, I broadened my search and found a reference to him at the Devon county council website, where it named a book he wrote in 1968, The Beginning of Rayon: Corrigenda and Supplement.

Knowing now that his full name was Edwin John Beer, formerly of Paignton, I discovered an article from an issue of Geology Today in 1989 which described the Edwin Beer Collection.

Leicester University had become the lucky recipient of a large collection of geological specimens. The collection was formed over a long period by Edwin Beer (1879 - 1986) and was donated by his widow Phoebe. "Beer had led an active and eventful life. He was by profession a chemist and was a pioneer in perfecting the process for making artificial fibres."

Searching Leicester University turned up no additional clues. My search on Edwin Beer's remarkable life seems to have ended for the time, with no photographs gleaned. Stay tooned for the next instalment.

10 MINUTES LATER
I've just bought the book for £6.50 on ebay!

The story behind our bank holidays

As we prepare for another bank holiday tomorrow, I was musing on the history of bank holidays. 

May Day may have its roots in ancient pagan rites of spring, but its place in the calendar as a bank holiday is fairly modern. It was the creation of Michael Foot in 1978. Britain was one of the last countries in Europe to celebrate May Day. It's a big deal in other countries. When I lived in Munich, I enjoyed the May Day revels in a town called Wolfratshauzen. Everyone dressed in leiderhausen and a good number of steins were consumed.

Bavaria has some of the most elaborate maypole traditions. Trees are cut down a day or two before the festival, stripped of bark and polished. Sometimes soap is added to make them extra slick. Men then race up these 40-foot poles to retrieve pretzels and sausages hanging from the top. The climbers can only apply ash, pinesap or tar to their hands to get a better grip.
Bavarian villagers also try to steal another town's maypole while protecting their own. If a maypole is stolen, it is held for ransom until the victimized village offers kegs of beer for its safe return.

Read more: Maypole Traditions in Germany | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/about_5445553_maypole-traditions-germany.html#ixzz1L5C0e8XX

Each village has its own community maypole which is decorated with icons signifying the history and main occupation of the region - for example brewing. The poles are fierecely guarded because if a neighbouring village "steals" your flagpole, the penalty is having to buy everyone a drink.

The future of our own May Day is looking doubtful. The government is considering scrapping the May Day Bank Holiday and creating a new public holiday in April or October.

The second bank holiday in May, now referred to as "Spring bank holiday", always used to be known as Whitsun when I was a child.
 

Whitsun, old English for "White Sunday", is the forty-ninth day (seventh Sunday) after Easter Sunday. In the Christian calendar, it is also known as Pentecost -commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples.

A little-known fact about bank holidays is that there is a fixed number of them - six  in England plus the public holidays of Christmas and Boxing Day - and we don't have an automatic right to paid leave on these days. Any right to time off or extra pay for working on a bank holiday depends on the terms of your contract of employment. That's why small businesses tend to get quite annoyed when "new" bank holidays are granted, like the one on Friday for the Royal; Wedding, and everyone assumes it's another day off.

When the usual date of a bank or public holiday falls on a Saturday or Sunday, a 'substitute day' is given, normally the following Monday. For example in 2009, Boxing Day was on Saturday, 26 December, so there was a substitute bank holiday on Monday, 28 December. This doesn't always happen in other countries. In Germany, they often have a bad year for public holidays when they all fall at the weekend. They don't then get a day off in lieu. Unusually bad organisation for the Germans!

 

Next year the late May bank holiday will be moved to Monday 4 June 2012 and an additional Jubilee bank holiday will be on Tuesday 5 June 2012.