The other day, a hunt rode past our garden. Such a sight - the flash of a scarlet coat, the thumping of hooves, the barking of the pack, the blast of the hunting horn, the cries of "View Haloo" - is supposed to provoke one of two responses.
In one of those seemingly off-the-cuff remarks he's so brilliant at, Tony Blair told someone on the tube that he was hoping for a baby girl - because he found girls easier.
Bernard Montgomery Grant shall not pass this way again. I am not in the business of obituaries, simply a summary of his rather short life. I knew Bernie only in passing, but I was aware of the tremendous impact he had on the black and Asian movement for change.
Once tipped as a future Chief Whip, he has become new Labour's "critical friend". But does he have a
Filming of Alastair: the movie has begun, and the impact on Westminster journalists is wonderful to behold. The cameras went into No 10 for the daily lobby briefing, which therefore lasted much longer than usual.
Mike Nesbitt rings to ask if I'd like to join a new committee that will shortly begin a two-year investigation into the impact of online learning on higher education. My duties wouldn't take up more than two days a month, and there'd be a token honorarium of £60 for each meeting.
I have to confess that I'm not someone who spends much time reading the personal finance pages of newspapers.
Birmingham seems to be hotting up, bubbling and backfiring. First, there was the vicious attack in that city on Chris Cotter, the white boyfriend of the black athlete Ashia Hansen. His enemies attempted to scalp him, Geronimo-style.
Those who know more about these things than I do, a bafflingly large majority, say there is a deep-laid plot to ensure that Gordon Brown never becomes leader of the Labour Party and prime minister of his country.
Ironically, it was someone on this very magazine who told me once that I must never use the word "ironically" in my copy. It was bad style, mostly meaningless, unnecessary, cliched and one of the words that he thought should be banned.
According to the young optometrist at the Oxford Street branch of Top Specs, something very significant has happened to my eyesight.
Alongside my fear of suddenly finding myself on stage in the middle of a play and not knowing my lines, I have another fear: of being rung up by somebody compiling one of those questionnaires about "my cultural life" or "what I wish I'd known when I was 17" which appear in newspapers and magazin
So now, Stanley Kubrick being dead, A Clockwork Orange has been finally re-released, without much fuss and without gangs of youths beating people to death in the streets - or, at least, no more than usual.
The Family Policy Studies Centre has come up with its very own bouquet for Mothering Sunday: a study that finds marriage has never been so unfashionable, or motherhood so unappealing. The statistics are dire.
On 26 March, the Observer, in the wake of the racist attack on the British athlete Ashia Hansen and her partner, published an article written by Richard Ellis, a white English journalist. Ellis has been married to a black woman for the past 15 years.
The facts of Iraq's epic suffering are now unassailable. The latest report by Unicef says that half a million young children have died in eight years of economic sanctions. That represents almost 200 deaths every day.
"Something for you to write about," said Geoff, as our sealed glass pod soared high above the Thames on Sunday afternoon.
It's all very well for Tony Blair to keep the punters guessing about whether he will take his statutory paternity leave, but everybody at Westminster knows what will happen. He will have his cake and eat it - as usual.
He is an icon for the black community, but does he take too many risks in advancing the cause of ant
Geoff rings on his mobile at half-past eleven on Tuesday morning to tell me that he's in Oxford Street. This is not altogether sensational news, in that he lives just off Marylebone High Street and so has only to take a three-minute walk to accomplish such a feat.
"The absence of fear is the finest thing that can happen to a child." So said A S Neill, the founder of Summerhill. Neill the great educator had not reckoned with new Labour, SATs and performance-related pay for teachers.
Nigel Wrench, one of the most famous news presenters on Radio 4, became HIV-positive in 1993 as a result of having sex on Hampstead Heath with a man who didn't want to use a condom.
New Labour's attitude towards the security services is puzzling. On the one hand, it pursues the MI5 renegade David Shayler with a vigour exceeding its prosecution of General Pinochet.
Budget time, and the living is easy. Or at least, the economy is doing very well indeed. Everywhere you look, there are freshly minted millionaires aged about 16, and - give or take a Rover or two - thriving businesses.
The church of the Restoration of the Ten Commandments it is called, a consecrated building surrounded by banana farms, heads of cattle and schools for infants. It sits in the fertile savannahs of Uganda.
Once again, a few Labour grandees are raising the alarm about the core voters. John Prescott, Robin Cook and Peter Hain fear that Mr Blair's unrepentant middle-class ethos has alienated the grass-roots proletarian Labour support.
The West Indian masses have taken to the streets, boycotts are taking shape and governments are worried that the current movement may well destabilise the region.
Such fun to see Michael Portillo engaging nose with carpet at Treasury Questions. But the Tories have only themselves to blame. The Chancellor used to let his shadow know, through the usual channels, which questions he would answer, and which he would pass on to his underlings.
"Why don't we put on the wedding video?" asked Ken. After years of reaching for my scarf and gloves at such moments, I was rather surprised to hear myself joining in the chorus of approval. Yes, indeed. Let's look at the wedding video.
Last week, a friend was complaining to me that some people had unrealistic expectations of new Labour and would not be satisfied whatever the government did. She meant me, but I don't think she was right. I have pitifully low expectations of everything.