Popular seaside resort

IT'S been a busy week since I last filled you all in on my wanna-be celebrity comings and goings. All of a sudden I seem to be rushed off my feet with engagements and things to do - I suspect we are all beginning to come out of our winter hibernation.

IT'S been a busy week since I last filled you all in on my wanna-be celebrity comings and goings.

All of a sudden I seem to be rushed off my feet with engagements and things to do - I suspect we are all beginning to come out of our winter hibernation.

Even in the Edwardian spa town of Felixstowe where I have a small pied-a-terre with sea views (distant) things are getting busier.

I've noticed large numbers of seafront walkers and the little Peter's ice cream kiosk - a Felixstowe stalwart - has now reopened for business 2008.


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Indeed, there's nothing better than a strawberry mivvi or a cider lolly or a vanilla wafer in the bracing sea air is there? Makes us all feel very English.

Weekending in the west of the county, where I popped to see my grandmother who's so old she remembers the abdication but didn't much like Edward VIII anyway, I commented to my sister Claire, who enjoys hosting soirees and like me struggles to give up smoking, over a late night brandy and Babycham how suddenly I am besieged by visitors who happen to be passing.

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"It's strange isn't it,” I said: “that though Felixstowe is really a cul-de-sac and on the way to nowhere, unless you're planning to swim to the Hook of Holland, there seems to be large numbers of people that just happen to pop by."

"Yes," she replied, "which reminds me I shall be bringing my friend Eugenie, who enjoys your company but doesn't much like garlic bread, to the Edwardian spa town for a day out soon. I expect we'll be popping in." or words to that effect.

Now I'm not one to complain and readily filled a date into my diary as Claire looked for different mixers, only to find that every weekend in March and several up until June are now booked with people keen to enjoy a walk on the front and the sea air.

I'm noticeably more popular than I used to be when I lived in Ipswich town centre close to a number of busy thoroughfares that brought people within close proximity to my house fairly regularly.

Naturally, I put this down to my fame on the Felixstowe peninsula and exposure to a large number of people through the amateur theatrical circles to which I aspire in this particular area of east Suffolk.

However, speaking to a number of Felixstowe-based friends the other evening over late-night coffee and cakes - though I didn't eat finding that nowadays, rather like old people, if I eat too late at night I often sleep badly - I've discovered I'm not alone in this noticing this phenomenon.

In fact it happens to non-celebrity people as well.

I'M sure she's got arms but where are they?

It's been London Fashion week last week - I'm no fan of labels and things are you? I tend to believe that while there are starving children in the world, repression, and conflict that making clothes for a few rich people shouldn't really be high on the list of human endeavour.

Nevertheless it is always a colourful event.

But why is this model so upset?

Sporting a creation by designer Julien MacDonald she seems hardly pleased at all to be on the catwalk does she?

I suspect it's because she's got no arms and hasn't had time to comb her hair. Poor girl.

ISN'T it marvellous that the nights are drawing out?

Aren't you just full of cheerful expectation that winter is soon to be over?

I feel moved to share with you a few lyrical lines by my favourite poet A.E. Housman called Loveliest of Trees - it sums up spring for me.

Loveliest of trees the cherry now

Is hung with bloom along the bough

And stands about the woodland ride

Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now of my three score years and ten,

twenty will not come again.

And take from seventy years a score,

It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom,

Fifty Springs is little room,

About the woodlands I will go

To see the cherry hung with snow.

Are you an internet aficionado? Do you surf and surf? Is the big wide world just a double click away?

Often, while at home in my flat with sea views (distant) in the Edwardian seaside resort of Felixstowe, I can be found logging on to the net and re-reading my weekly columns posted on the Evening Star website - hours of fun.

But to my amazement I found on the net the other day there are indeed more James Marstons than just me.

As a wanna-be celebrity wrapped up in himself this came as somewhat of a shock. You see, I thought I was unique.

There are a couple of DJs, one from Burton On Trent, and someone called James Marston Fitch who has his own charitable foundation.

Here's what it says:

“The James Marston Fitch Charitable Foundation, Inc., was established in 1988 to recognize the unique contribution of Dr. James Marston Fitch to the field of historic preservation in the United States.

“Its purpose is to advance the study and the practice of the preservation of the historic architectural heritage of the United States. The Foundation supports preservation through a research grant program as well as through such educational activities as publications, seminars, and lectures.”

Sounds a bit heavy doesn't it? I think I'll stick to looking at me me me to be honest.

Do you know any other James Marstons? Let me know.

On February 19, 1674 - England and the Netherlands signed the Peace of Westminster, ending the Third Anglo-Dutch War. A provision of the agreement transfers the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam to England, which renamed it New York.

I urgently needed a few days off work, But, I knew the boss would not allow me to take leave.

I thought that maybe if I acted “crazy” then he would tell me to take a few days off.

So, I hung upside-down on the ceiling and made funny noises. My colleague (who's blonde) asked me what I was doing.

I told her that I was pretending to be a light bulb, So, that the boss might think I was “crazy” and give me a few days off.

A few minutes later the boss came into the office and asked, “What in the name of good GOD are you doing?” I told him I was a light bulb.

He said, “You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for a couple of days.”

I jumped down and walked out of the office...

When my blonde colleague followed me, the boss asked her, “And where do you think you're going?”

She said, “I'm going home too. I can't work in the dark.”

Things are very exciting at the moment at the Ipswich oh-so Operatic and indeed Dramatic Society (IODS) of which I am an enthusiastic member.

Currently I am busy rehearsing with the main players one of the comedic scenes in which I play a minor but really quite crucial role.

Alongside Sue, who counts among her most embarrassing moments the time she got caught in front of the curtain as a scene ended instead of behind where she should have been, we are, we think, the glue that holds the whole thing together.

Indeed, I actually have to say a line on my own. Well I say a line but really it's just a word. Well I say a word it's more of an expletive. You see at a crucial moment in the proceedings I say “sssh!” with heavy emphasis, stage right.

As I said to Margaret, stalwart of the society,

“Margaret, I think my interjection may well be a show-stopping moment.”

“Quite” she replied, an answer which says it all.

Isn't Valentine's Day awful - well it must be if you're not a celebrity on the Felixstowe peninsula like me.

Naturally I received a lorry load of romantic gestures, cards, and other assorted gifts - it's just a shame the lorry never arrived.

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