Proof is in the pudding - praise indeed...

SoS and colour co-ordination

Alex had an early start this morning. No less a mortal than the SoS for Education (that's how they are referred to by their civil servants) dropped by her school. With all the usual media, the official added casually in a conversation with Alex the day before. And who would they be Alex asked. Oh you know, BBC, ITN, London News, Sky TV the official drawled in response. Gosh. So there was a deep discussion between Alex and her boss Pamela about colour co-ordination. They settled on purple (Pamela) and green (Alex). In the event, they both wore red and black. In mourning for Labour I quietly wonder? Although they are seemingly getting into bed with the Tories, it doesn't mean that they are going to go all blue in their wardrobe. Or yellow. Alex looked peachy sitting beside Mr Gove in a circle of children. The dog and me - we are so proud of her.

Under the weather

The cottage became a potential location shoot for ER, Casualty, Nurse Jackie & Holby City. It all began with Blue. Move the olive tree, Alex shouted up at me as she left for work on Wednesday. She did not want Blue to attack it in a fit of pique while we were at work. A few minutes later, I tried to shift it. Aaaah. Something moved in my back. I hobbled into the sofa and Blue followed me darting about, her ears pricked and her eyes full of concern. I made it to work and took a ****load of neurofen and paracetemol. That evening we ate prawns and noodles. They were lovely and light. Delicate, even. Flavoursome and wholesome. We went to bed with me moaning about my back and Alex telling me to take some tablets and me saying - what's the point at bedtime. We fell asleep. I woke about 3.00am. Alex was sitting up in bed hunched over. What's wrong baby. I have never felt so ill came the reply. She sounded really really pathetic. I gave her some comfort but had to go to the loo. I got out of bed and screamed my way to the toilet. My back was in agony. As I was finishing on the toilet Alex came in. She was moaning really badly. I was screaming very loudly clinging to the wall while she was retching in the bathroom. Blue was looking at us both in a state of high anxiety. She came and sat at my foot and licked it saying - don't worry - I'll look after you.

We moaned and groaned our way back to bed. I had a deadline at work - not the best time to do your back in. We got a call through to an osteopath who advised, no sitting and painkillers. Alex had to get up from her sickbed and drive me to work where I picked up the papers I needed. I can still read and write in a lying down position. We decided that Alex's illness must be due to one dodgy prawn. She's off them entirely now. Come to think of it - having heard her getting sick I think I am too.

But that's not the end of it. The day after the night before Alex complained that her hand and arm were sore. And it got worse. Friday saw no easing of it. It's hard to see pain etched on anyone, especially Alex. Yesterday evening she gave in and said - take me to A & E. Flawed and all as it may be, we are lucky to have the NHS to tend to us. Take note, Dave 7 Nick. In the three hours we were there, we saw a preliminary navigator nurse, an investigatory nurse, had an x-ray, saw a doctor and finally a treatment nurse who fitted a splint. Along the way we came across a host of characters with their own stories from all walks of life. The stuff of television drama.

The possible diagnosis is calcification leading to tendonitis. Treatment: Painkillers, armrest and tlc ....

Happy Birthday, Richard Madeley

It's his birthday today my i-phone app informed me. Snap! Alex appeared with a breakfast tray laden with coffee and a tiny birthday cake with three candles. She then produced a huge basket of gifts loosely wrapped in green crepe paper. (It’s the way to go). There was a bag of coffee, a small box of Irish hand made chocolates, a metallic green “whistle when I boil” kettle (very cool), a black linen shirt, a bottle of Rioja, another bag of coffee (decaf), a metallic effect purple / pink cover for the i-phone (uber cool), a bar of Milka chocolate and the basket itself. Today, I feel truly loved. And so, to you, dear Richard. I sincerely hope that you feel as loved today as I do. Many happy returns to you and to all whose birthday falls today, and in this merry month of May.

The Election

As I write, the full results are not in. But it's not good. Oh dear. But where in the world can we go? Escaping to Ireland with its leery priests does not fill one with hope, even if we could make it there through the Icelandic Ash. Looking west, the US stock market has fallen badly and its southern coastline is being invaded by an oil slick of epic proportions, while looking east, the entire Eurozone is at risk and even a trip to the Isles of Greece is fraught with danger of getting caught up in a bank raid. For imbibing liberal gay women, any of the middle eastern countries is a no-go zone, while Asia is also a challenge. There are terrorists' training camps up in the hills and down at sea level a tsunami can happen anytime. Further east there's China but it's really too late to start learning a completely new alphabet. Ditto for Japan. Which leaves Australia or New Zealand. But the solicitor for the house purchase has not returned my passport. So we are trapped. Stuck. Can't move on. No going back...

Under the hammer

We discovered an auction house with a sale on Bank Holiday Monday, so we got there an hour before the sale and bought our catalogue. We ticked the items we liked from the 547 lots on show. There were mirrors (two different kinds), paintings, garden lanterns, some kinda chairs, another kinda chair, a coffee table, a writing desk. There was also a gents mahogany mirror, a Japanese cigarette box, a yew writing desk and a Victorian pine chest of drawers. We deliberated carefully and made a shortlist with three items on in it. The first was two fenders marked £20-£25. Then there was a gilt mirror – guide price £40-£60. Finally there was a coffee table with a guide price of £100-£150.

As proceedings began the atmosphere was marginally tense with the auctioneer in complete command of the room. It was no place for amateurs. He moved efficiently through the lots, keeping an eye on the bidders while managing the entire process with humorous banter. The pleasure of being there was following the fate of the items which we had picked out. Alex really has a good eye. The first lot to come up was the fenders. Alex raised our paddle at £25 and again at £35. Two others in the room were interested. The hammer fell for a woman at the front at £55. It was over in a matter of seconds. Several lots later Alex had another go. This time for some garden lanterns. Not in our shortlist but Alex is Alex. The auctioneer looked directly at Alex. Thirty-five? he asked. Alex shook her head purposefully with all the panache of a seasoned buyer at auctions.

As the auction flowed on we pinched each other. It was her first attempt to bid in an auction. I was still a bid virgin. Then came our gilt mirror. We did not even get a chance to bid on this as it shot up very quickly to £75. We watched and listened as a host of other items came under the hammer. Then Alex kept an ear out for the yew writing desk which did not make the shortlist either. It was in the catalogue at £50-£80. The bidding started at £40. Alex went £45. It went £50. Alex went £55. Then £60. I watched Alex in fascination. She went £65. The auctioneer looked at the other bidder. Then it was sold to us. We were the delighted owners of a yew writing bureau.

We had just one item remaining of interest in the auction room. The coffee table – guide price £100-£150. As it stands, dear reader, you are probably thinking it’s a bit steep for a coffee table. Well I can only tell you that it’s a most exquisite piece of furniture, with the circular table top supported by four of the most magnificent partly clad women who morph into table legs at the very base. There was an underneath about half the size of the table top and these ladies slope in to support it and back out to be in line with the table top. My description fails to do it justice but suffice to say, this is not a mass produced piece. Anyway, we fancied it would be a marvellous conversation piece in our new front room and somewhere elegant to rest a glass of Rioja upon.

The table was one of the last items in the catalogue and Alex slipped off to the loo after the victory of the writing desk. I was left in charge of the paddle and the catalogue and my mind wandered. Then I heard the auctioneer entreat us with his smooth words – pine drawers £20 as he looked for a bidder. In mind’s eye I could see the Victorian Pine chest of drawers which had not made our shortlist. I quickly lifted the paddle. Twenty pounds I am bid, he intoned. Twenty five, he asked the room. No takers. He nodded at me. The hammer came down. I had got us some pine drawers. It was item 402. I borrowed a pen from a punter. My first bid and I was a winner. When Alex came back I told her I had got us some pine drawers for £20. Of course it wasn’t the Victorian pine ones – it was a small set of three drawers. Never mind, it will look good painted up Alex said.

Eventually it came to the coffee table. Alex and I had a strategy. The auntioneer might start the bidding at £80 but we decided to sit back and come in as a new bid towards the end and we would snatch it at £150. In the event this was not possible. The bidding quickly opened at £160. It rose in twenties fast and furious with three people bidding. One fell away which left an oriental woman and an Egyptian looking man. The Egyptian won and the hammer fell at £400. All over in 30 seconds.

As we lugged our spoils of war to the car we spotted some of the items we liked being carted off. The fenders ended up in the back of a big grey van. Clearly professionals. I saw a tall bearded chap carry off the portrait of the lady under his arm and a blond woman who was bidding against us for the desk wished lots of joy with it. In fact two others said we had got a lovely piece in the desk. Funnily, nobody mentioned the pine drawers. Anyway, Alex is the auction queen and dreamt about another auction last night. So we'll be back.

Give him a fez

Is Paul thinking-where's me fez? The wispy dyed hair, the faraway puzzled look is reminscent of Tommy Cooper. Non?