I hope I make myself clear.

Dear your Majesty the Queen, Gordon Brown, the Chief commissioner of police, the Lord chief justice, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord High Executioner, and whoever else it may concern,
I'm telling you now, and I want it on record, that if anyone should break into my house at any time, especially in the middle of the night, I shall be so frightened that I shall do anything I can to stop them from hurting me, including seriously assaulting them if I can. And I shan't be waiting to find out what their intentions are. It might be just some harmless dear little chap, who only wants to steal my money, my tv, computer and car keys, and crap on my carpet, but I aint gonna ask him, or wait to find out if he's going to rape, torture and kill me like all those women I've seen on Crime Watch. No, if I get the chance, I shall drop a heavy plant pot on his head from the top of the stairs. [This is the only thing I can think of].
Similarly, I am informing you that if anyone I love should ever have to endure terrible suffering with no hope of relief until their death, I will do anything I can to hasten that death as sensitively as possible.
Should either of these terrible things come to pass, I would expect the circumstances to be closely examined by my peers. If the society I live in is so cruel and heartless as to consider that I have not suffered enough, refuses to apply common sense, or insists on following some rigid point of law so that I am condemned and punished further, then that is my misfortune.
Just so that you know.

Woss and all the other Bankers

I understand it's been a bad year for Jonathan Ross, what with those nasty people criticising that amusing joke he played on Andrew Sachs with his friend Russell Brand, and then people suggesting he might be overpaid at the BBC, earning 18 grand in 3 years.My heart constricts whenever I think of the poor man.

I used to like him a lot on his Friday night show, and have enjoyed many an excellent interview of his with various "celebs". However, I have discovered that, try as I might, I simply can't forgive or forget the chilling, hard cruel streak revealed by his behaviour in the Sachs incident. Every time I see him on Live Aid or whatever, I can't help thinking that the mask has slipped and can't ever be put back again. He showed that he did not really regret the incident at all in a recent Christmas quiz, when he was teamed up with Brand - a serious error of judgement in itself, in my opinion. The pair of them sat sniggering like schoolboys, and made several references to the Sachs thing, clearly proud of their clever wit, and congratulating themselves for having got away with it, which they obviously had, since everybody in the studio fell about laughing with them. I switched off.

I don't watch films [this is a delight I am saving up for my old age], but I'm sure Ross's Film programme is very good. However, don't tell me no-one else could do this or his chat show as well, or that he will be missed to the tune of 6 grand a year.

No-one is indispensable, neither Jonathan Ross nor all those bankers with their obscene bonuses. I read an admirable letter to one of the broadsheets, written by someone in a fairly exalted professional position, volunteering to take the place of one of these brilliant bankers, should they wish to leave the country in the event of their bonus being cut. Sadly, he concluded that he would not get the chance, since there would be many more highly qualified , capable people ahead of him in the queue.

Let's charter a jet for them all to fly away on - Ryanair should do it!

My very special friend Elvis

I have never ever told anyone this before in my life, but when I was in Las Vegas in 1976, I got lost in this big casino on the way to the toilet, and I came across a lone figure, who engaged me in conversation, and it turned out to be Elvis Presley, trying to escape for a few moments from all the hype. We clicked immediately, and he told me I was just the woman he had been searching for. He took me to his room - not his suite on the top floor, but a lovely little private room, where for the rest of my 6 weeks' stay in the States, we spent as much time as we possibly could together.

Is this story any more preposterous than that told by the egregious Tom Jones in a documentary I have just been watching, called "Elvis in Las Vegas" in which the abominable Jones claims to have been an inspiration to Elvis, and to have had an influence on his career? As if! Get real, Jones. You are not worthy of polishing even one of his rhinestones, even after exchanging your big conk for that silly little one.

Alright, I never met Elvis, and I have discovered that he never toured Britain because the diabolical"colonel" was an illegal immigrant in the States, could not travel abroad himself, and so made excuses for Elvis not to tour abroad.

Have I been watching too much television over the Christmas period?

Joy

I am reading a wonderful book at the moment, called "The Wrong Boy" by Willy Russell. It makes me howl out loud with laughter, but at other times is so painful that I wish I wasn't reading it. Central to the first part of the book is the relationship between the boy and his mother and gran, who love him with the unconditional love I spoke of before, not that he is undeserving of that love, just horribly misunderstood. Anyway, his wonderful gran, [who reminds me of someone, but I just can't quite think who,] tells him that she has never been interested in having fun, but has always wanted joy in her life. How could I not finish a book in which there is a character who voices my exact sentiments? [Well I like having fun, but it pales into insignificance in comparison with joy.]

I hope the word "joy" never becomes trivialised by becoming "cool", like the stupid use of "awesome". Well, "they" won't spoil it for me.

I don't care if this sounds obvious or sentimental, but without any doubt whatsoever, the most joyful thing in my life, never to be surpassed, was the birth of my 2 children, and then grandchildren. My family will always be the central joy of my life.

However, over the years, I have discovered another great joy, after all the years of working, and fitting in with other people, the joy of being me, of living alone, and doing exactly what I bloody well please! Do you know, I absolutely love me - I want to do all the same things as me, and I agree with everything I say!

I still do odd days' work, which make me appreciate my time even more. When I have a day to myself, it starts with the utter joy of having a cup of coffee in bed, and being able to spend as long as I like over it. My stomach actually tingles with joy at the prospect of being able to go back to sleep again if I feel like it. My day at home will be punctuated with joyous moments of having drinks and snacks , and reading magazines or novels. I absolutely adore my home, because it's mine, and am always overjoyed to return to it, especially if I've been away.

Other joyous moments: Shopping - buying lovely cheap clothes, or things I never needed at IKEA.
Listening to the best band in the world ever - the Strokes, or the other million bands that are almost as good. Watching TV, but I am very discerning - only documentaries, Corrie and the X Factor! The S word is in there somewhere, along with jacuzzis, just so as you don't think it's not part of my life, but other than that, it would be far too inappropriate to mention it !
The tiny tiny pats on the shoulder given to me by my son, which speak volumes. The love of Mary and Luke for "Mumsey" which becomes especially expansive at times they don't remember the next day!

But what could be more joyous than singing to your 2 year old grandson "Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby" , and hearing the reply "ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh"?

Nothing, my friend, believe me , absolutely nothing.