Bimbo

Hey-ho! It’s the loquat season again, one of my very favourite fruits, sweet and juicy and, as I think I probably say every year, I’m only sorry the season is so short. Two or three weeks at the most and it is over.

Pippa Middleton must surely be the bimbo to out bimbo every bimbo in bimbodom, or so it would seem. I don’t know the girl, have never met her and she could be the sweetest, most charming thing on two legs but, oh dear, what a wannabe, what pretension! A minor socialite celeb coasting along on the fact that she is the younger sister of the future queen of England and mother of future monarchs, presuming the royal family remain royal. I wonder if Kate, when she enrolled in her Scottish university, ever imagined she would end up in that exalted position. She is hardly Debrett after all as a few who had their noises put out of joint pointed out. Does the infusion of the common enrich the royal blood line or does it dilute it?  Other kings and princes have married commoners. According to a TV documentary I watched recently the current royals shouldn’t really be there at all and the rightful king of England is a plain mister who lives in the Australian outback, whose sons and daughters instead of being princes and princesses are plain Sheilas and Bruces. Evidently this all stems from the accession of Henry lV (I seem to recall it was Henry lV) who should not have been king because he was conceived the wrong side of the blanket, daddy, John of Gaunt, being away fighting a war somewhere at the time of his conception and that should have barred him from the throne. Think how different history would have been if there had been no Henry lV. It would have meant no Henry five and Agincourt, no Henry Vlll, no break with Rome, no church if England, no Elizabeth who could have married a catholic anyhow, no King James Bible, none of the Georges, no Victoria and no Guelphen descendents, meaning our current queen which only goes to show what a swizz it all is.

But back to Pippa who among other things, I seem to remember a short while back had a book on etiquette published that was greeted with hoots of derision, has landed herself a seemingly cushy number as the face of Waitrose and her latest output, tips for a romantic picnic for two, beggars belief. Firstly, have your picnic in Province, she says, which means travel expenses from wherever you happen to live in the UK and travel these days does not come cheap. Then get yourself some accessories like quilted rugs to make yourself comfy, the cost of which would be about £85 then your menu will consist of Peach And Vanilla Fizz to start followed by Fig And Goat’s Cheese Fougasse, the main course is Smoked Chicken and Melon Salad, for dessert there is Strawberry and Lavender Cheesecake Jars, and to drink a Mirabeau Cotes de Province Rose. Total food cost 43p short of a hundred quid. Well, just consider the ingredients for your chicken salad and you will realise why – no fewer than 13 items of which the chicken is not quite the most expensive. That honour goes to the raspberries and virgin olive oil.

What planet is this girl living on when more and more people in this recession and with the cost of living constantly on the rise are finding it increasingly difficult  making ends meet, even keeping their heads above water?

Marks & Spencers is advertising a dinner for two; main course, side dish, dessert and bottle of wine for £10.

Pippa’s picnic menu is about on a par with Marie Antoinette’s reputed - “Let them eat cake.”