What a dreadful, dreadful week, dear readers but with the upside of two exquisite spring days. Or summer, as we call it in England. The lowest and by a distance, longest hours were spent sitting on a new committee.

Now I may have used this quote before (I spend a significant amount of time on committees) but the best ones are made up of an odd number, preferably less than three. New committee had no less than twenty one members, about 15 of whom had no Off Switch. The chairman had the herding skills of an ant and within minutes it was clear that we were in for the long haul.  I made a couple of abortive stabs at moving things along – “I think we’ve heard from everyone.  Shall we put this to a vote?” but it wasn’t even going to be a finger in the dyke. As I did through years of maths lessons, I abandoned hope and looked around for light relief. Luckily, and I always like a straw to clutch at, I was sitting next to an extremely amusing gay colleague and in the finest schoolroom tradition we spent  the rest of the meeting passing each other silly notes, a flickering candle of evidence of intelligent human life in a very dark world.

Me: Have you booked somewhere nice for lunch? Later  corrected to dinner.

Him:  Not yet, I’m actually searching Airbnb for a room for the night. Correction Week

With time of my hands and very little mischief to be had, I turned as a last resort to thinking.  That way lies madness but hey, ho, I was well past caring.  The previous day I had descaled the iron – oh, do be quiet at the back, didn’t I say it had been a dreadful week? – and I fell to thinking about all the things that people living in jungles are spared.  No electricity ergo no irons, kettles or coffee machines to maintain.  No fridges or freezers to defrost.  I doubt that a lot of waiting in for gas men or deliveries goes on.  Lawn mowing is probably not high on their to-do lists, or having to run out for dishwasher tablets.

The more I thought, and available time appeared to be infinite, the more I wondered what they actually do all day.  Grow food is an obvious answer but I myself produce enough on my allotment to keep the whole of west London in runner beans and beetroot and it’s hardly a full time job.  I make as much jam as Bonne Mamma and my own creme de cassis which I’d put money on doesn’t happen in the Third World.  I may take pity on them, a very new line, and  export the concept of committees,supplying them with a dozen or so “seed potato” people to start them off. I have some candidates in mind ….

What I need now is a brilliant excuse to get me out of ever having to attend another meeting , a reason which is bathed in the golden glow of sincere and deep regret.  This will not be the work of a moment.  My usual source of evil inspiration is Useless the Younger who is unfortunately currently onboard a ‘plane to Hong Kong.

His stroke of genius before boarding was to come up with an outfit for me to wear to today’s St Patrick’s lunch which has an Irish themed dress code.

“Wear black with a white collar” he advised, “Say you’ve come as a pint of Guinness”

Clearly way too clever to get lumbered with meetings, lucky little leprechaun.  Let’s hope he reads this and thinks of an answer.  Pronto.