I CAN'T BE BOTHERED

It's getting to the point that I can't bear to watch the news and the so called 'car crash' that is Gordon Brown. The latest minister to resign is Flint by name and nature Caroline. She says that the Prime Minister used her as some kind of female 'window dressing'. With all his faults I don't believe a word of this and with the European elections coming up this Sunday, Flint, rats, leaving, sink and ships spring to mind.

There is another thing I can't bear to watch and it's a programme called The Apprentice about a group of young people so desperate to get a job with Alan Sugar, a successful businessman and friend and advisor of our Gordon. I just can't admire people who want to be in this world of selling stuff and being 'passionate' about it all and have all this drive. The programme shows them getting up at the crack of. and even watching this makes me want to roll over and die. I even thought about a Spanish version which doesn't get past the second programme as we witness one person trying to wake up the other housemates and them all snoring away. This type of programme could never be a success here.

Living opposite The Society of Saint Vincent of Paul one finds it difficult to get through the day without a pang of noblesse oblige . When I went in there the other day to see if they needed any donations of clobber one of the priests gave me a look that I would interpret as condescending but was probably something else. When I turned up the next day with three bags full he couldn't have been more civil and loving and so he should be as a man of the cloth. Henderson is not too happy with the gangs of gypsies and their kids turning up and in appropriate manner screamed at them to move their van load so as to enter the house. He was shortly joined by a stick waving Mercedes and Piti in tow threatening them with the police.

Alejandro, the bookworm who so far has been delighted with my choice of reading material has at the age of fourteen been introduced to PG Wodehouse. I had to explain skeletons in cupboards today and tried to think of something that would go down well with a fourteen year old. The best I could think of was Henderon's true story which involved him finding out via his parents that goats in general will eat anything. He went out of his way to feed theirs with plastic bags to which the goat consumed with relish. When it was found dead the next day Henderson remembers the family aghast around the dinner table all wondering how it could have happened. He was three at the time and so it was a first of many.