Didn't they do well?
I'VE been to Georgia and to California and sipped champagne on a yacht but I've never been to a celebrity auction.Well, thanks to a kind lady called Maureen, I have been launched on to the celebrity event circuit in the Edwardian seaside resort of Felixstowe.
I'VE been to Georgia and to California and sipped champagne on a yacht but I've never been to a celebrity auction.
Well, thanks to a kind lady called Maureen, I have been launched on to the celebrity event circuit in the Edwardian seaside resort of Felixstowe. Maureen wrote and asked me if I'd pop along to The Friends of St Felix - a home for blind people - Charity Auction held at the Elizabeth Orwell Hotel.
As a new Felixstowe resident, I determined to pop along.
The lots were, I have to say, varied. Items included a photo shoot, a Beatrix Potter model, theatre tickets and even a day on a motor yacht.
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Before my appearance however, I held a little pre-auction soiree with my plain-speaking-photographer friend Lucy, and a few chums. I did nibbles and served a bottle of rose - which in the end I served to myself as everyone else was driving.
Lucy, who obliged with taking photographs to record the outing, was on hand to help me serve a somewhat eclectic selection of delicacies I happened to have by me which included Swiss cheese, peanuts and olives. There would have been gorgeous little blinis but I couldn't find any anywhere in Felixstowe and have no idea how to make them.
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Anyway, to make a short story long, despite my enthusiasm my services with the gavel were not required as Maureen and auction co organiser Diana had secured the services of a professional. I just dressed the scene.
And do you know despite not bidding for the case of wine that took my fancy, I still didn't come away empty handed.
Lucy, generous as ever, bought me a raffle ticket and I won a rather handy hand-held massager.
At the end of all this excitement The Friends of St Felix raised a whopping - to use a journalistic term - £5,735. What a fantastic result. Well done Maureen and Diana.
Poor Prince William.
Despite his wealth and position, he's losing his hair bless him, thinning around the crown. I know how he feels. I used to have a thick head of hair. But now, at 32, time has caught up with me and I am, rather like the prince, sport a balding patch.
Indeed in another summer I'll have to be applying sun cream on my bonce.
Though it didn't stop him celebrating his grandparents 60th wedding anniversary, it must be pretty ghastly. Nature takes no notice of rank it appears.
William, you have my sympathy - can I have your bank account?
My parents have been having a clear out.
Their outbuildings in the west of the county are a little bit full.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I was first to see what could be of use in my Felixstowe flat with sea views (distant). I found six champagne flutes, a bottle of malt whiskey and a bottle of rather nice sherry - handy, I thought, for Christmas. Removing these objects I assured Ma and Pa I was doing them a favour as well as stocking up my cocktail cabinet.
As my Dad said, somewhat tongue in cheek: "Much easier than trekking round a supermarket isn't it? There's none of that awkward business at the till."
I happened to bump into a lady in Felixstowe who remembers me as a boy in short trousers.
Before my celebrity status was confirmed Noreen, a lady who has lived in Felixstowe since 1948, remembers a shy lad who said little but observed much.
That was me. She took me to one side over a large dry white wine.
She said: "I've taken the Evening Star for years and I religiously read your column. Tell me where is your flat with sea views (distant)? I've been wondering."
For fear of being paparazzied and stalked like a bed-hopping A-lister, I've sworn Noreen to secrecy.
What a lovely foxtrot Letitia!
Isn't she looking marvellous? and so pretty! And I'm delighted to report she is through to the next round. She spun round that floor like a gazelle didn't she, and the judges liked it too.
Such a lovely show for the whole family Strictly Come Dancing makes turning on the television set worthwhile.
My Vote Letitia campaign must be working and in just a few short weeks she'll be at the Regent theatre here in Ipswich as a fairy godmother - I bet she thinks someone's looking after her right now.
Meanwhile I am currently learning how to shuffle for the Ipswich terribly Operatic and most Dramatic Society's production of Singing in the Rain.
I have decided that tap for the over 21s and for those carrying a modicum of extra bulk is no picnic.
Ok so tap doesn't come naturally to me. As one wag I know suggested I ought not try to force it. Geddit?
DESPITE the strong 'ready meal' culture in Britain, the humble jacket potato is the top food cooked in the microwave for those living in the East of England, according to the British Potato Council.
Goodness me. Stop the presses. What a piece of news!
I can't really get on with a microwave. I've got one and it's handy for heating up croissants on a Sunday morning but as for jacket potatoes I'd rather it was done in the oven with a proper jacket.
The survey revealed that the favourite toppings of choice for those in the East are grated cheese, baked beans and cheese, and butter. Well aren't we an adventurous lot?