Welcome, Princess Charlotte.

This is the birth certificate for Princess Charlotte. A certificate no different to anyone's in the UK.

All births are miraculous, and all parents are rightly proud of their new arrivals. Birth represents nature in its purest form.

But I've been really quite disturbed by some of the disgraceful comments that I've read following the recent birth of Princess Charlotte; mostly on 'Facebook'.

Her parents seem to me to be a very pleasant ordinary couple, by chance caught up in a family where hard work and long hours are obligatory. Simply by a fluke of parentage, they have been signed-up to life at the objective end of the world's microscope; a life I wouldn't wish on anyone. Then when a baby arrives a few idiotic anarchists send hate mail, and write derogatory comments about them.

None of us choose our parents; we get what turns up, and we make the best of it. Some are born into wealthy families, others struggle to get by. Fortunately very few are born into such tight royal circles where one's life is rigorously predetermined.

Those with huge chips on their shoulders seem to think that the birth of Princess Charlotte is the perfect excuse for an outpouring of venom, but Kate and Wills are young people just like anyone else, and unwarranted hatred is hurtful. They eat three meals a day (if they're lucky), they catch colds in winter, and they get up at night to change nappies; they are really no different to the trolls who berate them.

In some ways I feel sorry for their detractors; to live a life of such anger envy and hatred must be debilitating. So I urge all those who have recently spilled their bile, to try to be happy for Kate and Wills, as others probably were when they themselves were born. They now have a beautiful little daughter, who I'm sure will grow into a well balanced hard-working individual. 

Don't be envious of them, they have a very hard life ahead of them. It may seem like heaven to live in huge houses amongst such riches, but, believe me, they look upon their surroundings in exactly the same way that you and I do.

Early Evening May 5th 2015.

It's about 5.45pm and I'm having my first glass of wine of the day beneath the shade of my flowering Quince tree.

It's warm, but slightly overcast, and I've put-in a full day's work. I'm really quite tired, and my back is giving me jip.

The sun is shining, Bok is relaxing, and Richard is pecking at a few laying pellets that I've thrown down for her in the grass.

It's reasonably quiet, but I can hear someone mowing in the distance to the right, and some distant chainsawing to the left. I can also hear a pair of cuckoos calling to each other across the valley.

In my own terms it's an almost perfect evening. I've already prepared tonight's supper (couscous with a chicken tagine) so I can relax with impunity.

A strange thought goes through my mind; if it was all to end NOW, I really wouldn't mind. This is probably as good as it gets, and I could greet the soil that awaits me with true contentment.

Tomorrow I shall feel differently (I know). More work, more backache, more evenings spent beneath the shade of the flower-covered Quince, more thoughts about immortality . 

So cheers; I shall drink to our collective health and longevity. May days like this continue to greet us all. Take life in short bursts. 

Pie Chart Life.

That's it; life à la Cro.

Reduced to Pie Charts. 

Just one page. 

NEXT!

Priorities Askew?

                                 

In no way is this a criticism of the Save the Children Fund, who I'm sure do a wonderful job, it's more a moment of reflection on those who run it.

Amongst its goodness knows how many paid employees, the Save the Children Fund has six that are paid over £140,000. Included amongst these is ex-advisor to Tony Blair, Justin Forsyth, who is the fund's Chief Executive (no surprise there!)

Whilst watching a TV ad' recently (asking me to pledge £2 a month), I did a wee calculation.

£2 a month = £24 per annum. Six employees at £140,000 = £840,000 per annum. Therefore it would take THIRTY FIVE THOUSAND contributors at £2 per month to pay just these six people's salaries alone. And we're talking here of just a few of the very highest earners.

So, if you are one of those THIRTY FIVE THOUSAND contributors, do remember that you are paying for several privileged lifestyles before any of those desperately sick children see a single penny of your money.

With so many intelligent and able retirees around, wouldn't you have thought that half a dozen unpaid 'volunteers' could fill their places? An extra £840,000 in the Fund's coffers each year could do a lot of good, and I'm sure The Queen would see that all the volunteers received a decent gong.

Luddites on the march.

So, here it is; my postal vote Ballot Paper. It's been filled-in, and sent off back to Blighty; my little contribution to the upcoming UK general election, which must be one of the most unpredictable and bizarre in living memory.

We currently have a government which has managed to bring back the country's failing economy from disastrous to flourishing (it's now at the very top of the IMF's success list), yet there are still those who for idealistic, social, or even traditional family reasons, are willing to throw it all away for their own egotistical short-term gain, regardless of the inevitable chaos that they all know will ensue.

Deals are being done in back-rooms between political factions who otherwise wouldn't piss in the same bucket.

The worst culprits, I suppose, are The Scottish National Party (who recently failed when trying to obtain independence for their beloved Scotland). They are now attempting en masse to replace Scotland's Labour contingent, and invade the Westminster that they so despise, in order to force through all sorts of advantageous fiscal programmes in favour of their loony-left supporters North of the border. One suspects that blackmail is afoot!

There are rumours that the SNP will make a Mafia style deal with England's left-wing; creating one of the most dangerous coalitions in living memory. Red-Ed denies this, but he speaks with forked-tongue.

The only thing that can save the UK is an outright win for either The Conservatives, or (heaven forbid) Labour, both of which are highly unlikely; I know which I'd prefer, but either would be preferable to some corrupt lefty coalition.

Everyone in the UK is aware of what's going on, it just remains to see if they could give a shit about it when the time comes to mark their ballot papers; I fear not.

David Cameron (our present PM) must really be regretting not having supported Scotland's bid for independence.WE DID TELL YOU DAVE! With no Scottish Loony-Left-Luddites in the picture, the UK's future (and Dave's) would have been secure. Too late now matey!

STOP PRESS: Dear Caroline Lucas (Greeny above) is now in bed with Russell Brand.... The kiss of death... Whatever next!

BBQ's.

Throughout my life I must have owned at least 20 different BBQ's, some have worked well, others haven't worked at all.

I have only two criteria when buying a new one; that it burns ordinary charcoal, and has absolutely no knobs on the front. They need to be as simple as possible.

This one is German; it's the second of its kind that I've owned, and it works perfectly.  Being quite small, it is ideal for when we're alone (I have a bigger one for when we have guests). They come in bits (well they would wouldn't they), but are easy to assemble.

This is what the whole thing looks like (in the rain). It stands about 50 cms tall.

In the top picture I was BBQing a whole breast of Lamb; one of my favourite meats to cook outdoors.

If you're looking for a small size BBQ, and you come across one of these, I recommend them.

Guest Writer; 1st May..

I've not been asked to be a guest writer before; after this, I may not be asked again.

P said I should tell Cro to piss off, then he went scowling to the kitchen to read this week's Tractor and Muckspreader magazine (his favourite). I cooked beans for his tea, now he's farting.

A boy at the Post Office called me 'darlin' this morning... I hit him with a small house brick that I keep in my handbag for such occasions. I suppose I'll have to visit him in hospital to say 'woops'.

I hope Arsenal Wednesday beat Norwich Rovers tomorrow... I predict a close match. Arsene said "it weel be a match ov too alves, and zumwon weel ween" 

Off to Warsaw in the morning, I must draw a map. I'm eating jelly babies.  Bye.

Back again. I've decided not to go to Warsaw...I'll buy a house instead.

My grandfather had the most beautiful pair of red doeskin gloves (made in Paris), but back in 1976 he lost them and was devastated! Yesterday I was clearing out behind the fridge, and you'll never guess what I found.... MY GRANDFATHER.

Off to the library; I ordered 'How to have fun in Russia' by Natalia Putin. They should have it by now. Bye again.

Right I'm going now.... come along P.

Bye.

Thank you Cro. (Nicola goes to my hairdresser) xx

I'm thinking of buying a bicycle.