STOP PRESS!! The glasses have been found!! By me. I went back to the huerto still feeling a bit ruffled from the previous day's events and during the course of the evening decided to scramble up to the reservoir and take in the view. On the way down where the abandoned allotments are I saw my glasses. So people, is it possible for a pair of glasses to levitate and fly off course about 20 metres? Could a magpie have purloined them and then thought better of it? Has the huerto got pixies? Yours Columbo. 

Hello people. I'm not on here much these days but I can assure you I am doing my best. Not sure there is much room for improvement but we must strive!! Anyway...someone stole my glasses while I was down the huerto. I have no words. I had to cycle home half blind and now need to get new ones. I have no space for anger. I am past all that. Really. However, I do now have to contend with the fact that there are two people on the huerto I can no longer trust. And this is a terrible thing. It goes against the spirit of the man who set up the foundation, Daniel Calasanz. All I have to hang on are my mother's words...''they will never have any luck...'' And they won't. Mark my words people, don't fuck with the good guys. They always win. In ways that are often difficult to comprehend. Cos if they didn't, none of us would still be here. 

I had a dream about Jack Nicholson. He was an extra in a film we were both in. I was one half of a Siamese twin if you please. My first thought when I woke up was, ''Jesus, he hasn't died has he?'' The dream involved a scene that was in a London mews house, with a smokey atmosphere, opium and cigarettes and 1920's decor. Just glorious. I even remember the name of the street. Langston Mews. In the dream I thought it rhymed with Langston Hughes, the writer. Nicholson played a character that would never join the rest of the guests in this house and would sit alone drinking tea, dressed like Dirk Bogarde in Death in Venice. Why Nicholson? What has he done to deserve to be in my dream? There are realms written on why we dream of staircases, eagles, intruders. The appearance of a famous person is said to symbolise qualities the person has that you wish you had, or that you admire or envy them. I rack my brain and remember something. I am pretty sure our friend Vicky saw him in a nightclub and kept asking him to dance with her. Then another friend, Claire, saw him in the street, shouted, ''Jack Nicholson!!'', and did a stupendous high kick with her lovely long leg. 

It's all go here. Managed to survive the tapas and wine competition and am now deciding whether my Christmas tree lights are on a ''slow fade'', or perhaps a ''steady on!

So many people trying to convince the rest of us they are paragons of virtue. Yet still we forgive. What goodness and patience we have, but there are limits. Doesn't do any harm to tell them to f#ck off once in a while. God they are trying. 

It's quite difficult to comprehend that Philip Sallon the beautiful socialite was an influential figure in my so called formative years, wait for it....40 years ago!!! Happy belated to him wherever he is. Hope to bump into him on my next visit to the motherland!!

Laura Kuenssberg is on the TV and she is saying it's not all doom and gloom and that according to NASA we could be living on the moon by the end of the decade and that you wouldn't be blamed for wanting to get away. Speak for yourself Kuenssberg!! I'm happy here, you lot can fuck right off into space!