As in ‘working my’ .  Never mind your endless complaints about me having ONE day off;  there has not been an unfilled minute of late.  I may not constantly update social media with Testino’s photographs of me in Alexander MacQueen at the Met Ball, arm in arm with Brad Pitt and George Clooney but that doesn’t mean  hours of empty space waiting to be filled by blogging, mes cheres.   I have no craving for fame amongst the ordinary British and as it happened it was choir rehearsal night and that must take precedence.

I have been wrestling with my dwarf French beans, sulking after a cold snap like their inventors after Brexit.  Incidentally what luck for news editors that nothing else at all has happened in the world lately except endless tedious elections.  For the unaware the reason these are so popular with the media is that they are cheap and endless sources of news, they happen nearby, at pre-designated hours and require  next to no work other than a little light oiling of the Swingometer.

On the plus side I did wriggle out of the second meeting of the dreaded Committee of Doom by pleading a previous engagement at Hampton Court.  I went on a very exclusive tour across the acres of roof and was able to send my more amusing colleagues at the meeting pictures showing the long drop to the ground and the words ‘Wish you were here?’

Following my editor’s (never ending) heart rending pleas about deadlines I decided to amaze him by getting my copy in early this month in addition to having five reviews to do for my devoted 75,000 Trip Advisor followers and that is not a Diane Abbott figure, plucked from a hat full of randomly generated numbers.  I had to email the following to the Today programme on Radio 4:

I am well aware that you have to start work at 4.00am but do not vent your spleen on your loyal listeners by subjecting them to the faux dulcet tones of Miss Diane Abbot as soon as they tune in at 7.00am.  You may redeem yourselves by running a ‘Who would you least like to be locked in a lift with?’ competition, with Miss Abbott excluded as a way too obvious winner.

No reply as yet but they are probably busy deciding what the prize should be.  Dinner with Mr Corbyn might be an option.