Greetings Cards, Lemons and Mechanical Parts

As a dedicated gin drinker I’m always extremely pleased when Shrove Tuesday has come and been and gone. Pancake Day is the only day in the year that the Lemon Marketing Board can justifiably increase public awareness of its subject and, needless to say, all lemon producers and supermarkets jack up their prices. So I feel obliged to seek out limes (which are an enjoyable accompaniment to my evening glass but a bit too overwhelmingly fruity) or get in some cucumber in order to revisit my bottle of Hendrick's gin. But Shrove Tuesday acts as a herald for Easter which this year comes early.

You have to respect the man (whose son is called Clinton) who runs the extraordinarily successful chain of card shops. Hardly have the Christmas decorations been put away than it is St Valentine’s Day – an essential card-sending occasion. The very next day his card shops are pestering us about Mothering Sunday (or is it Mother’s Day?) which the window banners proclaim is only three week’s away on March 6th. The Village Store is awash with Easter Eggs and paraphernalia, but before Easter comes I will have had to deal with some birthdays – yes the wife, the son, the daughter, the mother, grandchild 1 and grandchild 2 to start the list. I’ve neglected cousin Judy’s seventieth and so will have to send a “belated greetings” card. I’m sure that St Patrick’s Day is not far way, etc., etc.

While I rant away about card occasions, the wife and I are having more gremlin trouble. The main laser printer at work was one thing, but the blocked kitchen sink has proved quite another. The wife has been desperately trying to unblock years-worth of accumulated grease, coffee grounds, a false tooth, hair, calcium, limescale and other unmentionables using pumps, wires, acids and caustic soda, all to little effect. Meanwhile it has transpired that I was talking rubbish about the “lambda sensor” in my car. It was the “crank angle sensor” or something of the sort which was to blame. The rechargeable torch won’t recharge, and the adding machine in my office is behaving strangely (lending some really strange forecast items to my new business plan).

While all this is going on I receive reports from the Essex Coast. My mother is reacting strangely to news of Charles and Diana’s forthcoming nuptials (even expressing a tendency towards republicanism). Good on them says the ranting nappa, but did the Daily Mail really have to celebrate the announcement with 21 pages of coverage?

I in turn am reacting strangely towards Ken Livingstone and his refusal to apologise for less-than-amicable remarks aimed at a reporter who was Jewish. As the Prime Minister and other New Labour dignitaries ask him to apologise and “move forward”, I find myself for the first time in my life firmly on the Mayor’s side. Whatever purpose is served by an “apology” unless it is fully intended and wholehearted. If Mr Livingstone feels that he cannot sincerely apologise then hats off to him for direct honesty (however naughty his comment may have been). It is absolutely typical of the PM and his colleagues to suggest that he tells a lie by making an apology without intending it, so that pre-election media coverage can concentrate on the more serious business of slagging off politicians of other parties. Yuck!