I’ve been set upon, beaten up and left almost crippled. By a fucking cold. Its not covid, I checked. But its not a normal cold either. This is the worst man-cold ever to enter a body and leave it so devastated and debilitated that it couldn’t even drag itself to tai chi this morning. And I truly love my Saturday morning tai chi. But this morning, after a night of pain, suffering and nose-blowing, I simply couldn’t do it. After the ingestion of various ‘remedies’, (paracetamol in 7 different disguises) I managed to hurl myself round the tennis court, heroically and with my normal style (like a wounded, 3-legged cat, chasing its tail) and character (cheat at every opportunity).

All I’m really concerned about is that I’m fit for the coronation next weekend. My head feels so swollen with snot I’m worried about the crown fitting properly. And as it weighs about 35 kilos with all those diamonds and rubies and gold, I could end up with serious neck damage.

These flowers are nothing to do with the coronation. Possibly the only thing in London that can state that. But they do it every year in Embankment Gardens; they plant shit-loads of bulbs, randomly, as you can see, and hope for the best. Its a truly beautiful display of tulips and… errr… not tulips and… flowers that everyone stops to take photos of them. You just have to. Its an imperative, like sending picture of your penis to parliamentary researchers, its out of your control. Next week the main tulip beds will be in bloom and they are truly spectacular. You won’t be able to move for Lithuanian tourists, Bulgarian refugees, Japanese selfie-stickers and Albanian pick-pockets.

Have you seen Daisy Jones and the Six yet? The Amazon Prime series of the fantastic book which coincidentally has the same title. Loosely based on Fleetwood Mac, its the tale of a fictional rock band, back in the day. Sex, drugs and rock-n-more drugs. Totally brilliant. Go start it NOW. You’ll thank me. Which won’t help my cold but is appreciated anyway.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx