So Exciting!

With a bout of fine weather come bouts of inspiration and optimism. And the recent weather has had my heart a-bubbling in its cage.
No fewer than half a dozen exciting things are currently wrestling for position in my head.
And here they are.

1. The General Election.
A day and night when political groupies like me have a love-in with men in suits and swingometers. Needless to say I'll be zapping my remote from the BBC to Sky and back again. I love the hype, chat and what-ifs on the day, but most of all I adore the morning after when I tentatively switch on to find out if I'm in the red or feeling blue. Or, heaven forbid, swimming through a ghastly unworkable sludge of blue, red and yellow.. Talking of things being unworkable I see Cleggy is banging his smooth fists on his eco- friendly wooden table table saying he wouldn't work with a Brown controlled government. Ooooh!..... I think Mr Clegg is getting above his station, must be all the paparazzi following his every move and the thought that he could be the man who, come the 7th May, holds the nation's wealth and health in his tender unused hands. And I'm the Queen of Sheba.

2. The Eurovision Song Contest.
A pizza filled night when I sit cross legged waving my little flag whilst puzzling over the bonkersness of our fellow Europeans. They think that by singing a queer song in a bad outfit they'll somehow impress the judges. Sometimes they do and they win but I'm hoping that our Josh, our kid, with his homely good looks and great voice will melt the iron hearts of the judging panels. You never know they might even take pity on us if we have a new fella in Downing Street...

3. The Final of American Idol.
Providing Crystal Bowersox is in it. Last week the young woman with the 100 year old soul sang some gospel and, reaching the end, cried. That my dears is what I like. A stunningly pretty girl with golden pipes and heart to match. No-one else in this rather disappointing season of A.I. comes close to Mama Bowersox. Aaron is a kid who, like Crystal, is old before his time, and if Crystal doesn't win I hope he does.
Talking of 'talent shows' I watched Britain's Got Talent and fell in love again, (that's twice in one week) the man is called Christopher. He sang like a man trapped by his parents and his job as an accountant. And as he broke into 'Maria' (lucky girl) my blood ran cold and hot his voice so sweet, so controlled, so filthily rich. I adored him. He of course went through to the next round...

4. Wimbledon.
Green grass, an electronic roof and Rafael Nadal. Heady afternoons where I might sip on a Pimms whilst my grass turns brown due to a hosepipe ban. I love the summer. The summer is my time to shine, mostly on the face where my nose sticks out like a giant strawberry. I love the summer. Hot days filled with green salad, and if I'm flushed, an avocado. Nights where the bed linen is shoved away likewise a snoozing Monty and where each and every morning I vow to put on sun protector nonsense grade nuclear and short socks. But instead I roll down the road getting scorched and wincing as the skin on my little toes gets rubbed away. Protection, protection all sensible gals should use protection.

5. And most importantly of all the start of the 2010 World Cup in South Africa.
I will not allow anything or anyone to interfere with me on any day when England is playing. Please take note now. If you turn up with presents or even promises you will not be allowed access to the bungalow. The beautiful game comes first.

6. My birthday.
I will be 54 not 18. And I can honestly say that being six years away from sixty doesn't bother me one jot.
I don't know what I'll be doing on the day, someone somewhere might have a little surprise planned but even if I'm left alone without even a card or box of Maltesers I will put on a brave face. I'll not fear the extra year, nor the fact that I'm a year nearer the grave, not even the idea that I'm edging towards younger men. And as I study my face looking for extra lines I'll refuse to be blighted by thoughts that it's only men with sticks and hair issues who want me. So on the 28th June (note the date) I will gladly take in all manner of gifts (you know the address) and gaily celebrate my very special day by laughing my stockings off!
(Do not turn up without texting me first alright?)

And on that gloriously subtle note I must say bye bye.

Today looks like it could be a good one.


Ta ta!