Birthday treat fit for a king

AS I expected well wishes flooded in this weekend from al over the globe -well the Felixstowe peninsula.

James Marston

AS I expected well wishes flooded in this weekend from al over the globe -well the Felixstowe peninsula.

As is sit writing my column surrounded by cards with birthday cake in one hand, glass of sparking rose in another - it's a wonder I can type at all.

Celebrations, as with many of us almost celebrities were low key and stylish.

I went to Sandringham, not as a friend of the family though regular readers will know I am fond of Camilla, but as a mere tourist.

What a nice place.

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Once inside the big house, my sister Claire was intrigued to learn that she shares an interest with the Queen - jigsaws.

I was amused to learn the Queen, unlike me, doesn't enjoy seaviews (distant or otherwise) though she has got a dining room and a couple of cars that are bigger than my small Felixstowe pied a terre.

The royals weren't in, either that or they were hiding in the back kitchen with a pan of chips on and cracking open the lagers, and we, along with a smattering of other gawpers, were able to imagine them all sitting round the TV waiting for the Queen's speech to finally come to an end.

My sister was particularly fascinated by the experience.

“Look,” she said “they've got books like normal people. Nice jigsaw. If I was Zara Philip's I'd sit over there because that chair looks comfortable.

“I wonder where Eugenie sleeps? You can imagine Margaret in here smoking the place out, I wonder where the bar is?”

They also had some lovely table linen and, rather strangely I thought, their own gift shop.

Our day out ended with a trip to a place called Burnham Market. Have you ever been?

Well it is most unusual place where there are a remarkable number of shops selling a remarkable number of things you can live perfectly easily live without.

Apparently I must learn to browse, something I am told, men are totally unable to do.

I AM most irked to discover this week that my local Co-operative store in Felixstowe has started to charge for carrier bags.

How very dare they tell me how and what I should be doing for the environment and then charging me for the pleasure.

Why have bags at all? If they really mean what they say then get rid of them. Surely that's the logical conclusion

In defence of the Co-op their intentions are honourable but ever since humankind has existed we have exploited our environment to suit our needs and I don't see that changing do you?

It might not be fashionable to say so but like everyone else I fully support these so-called green policies, until they get in the way of what I want to do.

No one likes war but we've got to secure our oil supplies haven't we? Who doesn't use oil?

No one likes chopping down trees or concreting over the countryside but we all want to live in a building.

No one likes air pollution but do you know anyone who hasn't taken a cheap flight in the last ten years?

And to be honest I am sick of the blatant hypocrisy of all these supermarkets that have open fridges and freezers, leave their lights on all night, make deliveries by lorry, sell products flown in from all over the world, encourage waste with buy one get one free offers, use far too much packaging, and then have the nerve to charge us for a bag in the name of carbon footprints or whatever.

I note these supermarkets all have great big car parks and they don't often charge people for parking do they?

Perhaps if it cost twenty quid to park for an hour for the weekly shop we might finally start to think twice about the environment - show me the supermarket bold enough to risk its profit margins.

WHEN my hairdresser said to me “How do you like your hair done then?”

I replied with the answer “in complete silence and as quickly as possible please” in, what proved to be, a futile bid to avoid holiday chit chat and credit crunch discussion.

But not so with young Victoria Beckham - I bet she enjoys having her hair done.

The ever-pouting celeb with a famous and talented husband was pictured somewhere glamorous while she launched some clothing she's designed.

I even read, and this caused us journos only the merest hint of a newsroom snigger, that she said she waited 34 years to become a fashion designer.

Such a shame she didn't try it earlier, we may have been spared her singing.

Anyway, Victoria has a new haircut and you've got to hand it to her.

In a world where children are starving, where war is being raged, where climate change is threatening to destroy the human race, her latest coiffure managed to make the front pages.

Of course I'm only jealous, the last time I got a haircut no one noticed at all.

WELL dear readers I've had a rather a vitriolic mailbag this week following my little diatribe on the ugliness of tattoos.

How exciting.

Mr Peter Johnson, of Evesham Close, Ipswich, took great exception to my comments, describing me as a bigot.

He said, amongst other things unprintable in a family newspaper, “Who cares about James Marston's opinion of tattooing and body art so much that it justifies it being put in to print?

“Personally, I think that overweight, balding, middle age men are far more off putting and repugnant that anything Miss Jolie may chose to adorn herself with!

“James Marston celebrity of the Felixstowe peninsula? More like idiot!”

How deliciously rude.

Of course I might admit to being overweight and balding but as for middle aged - I am totally incensed.

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