I wandered over to Walpole Park and sat by the small cafe with a cup of black coffee. The sun warmed my face then intermittently disappeared behind summer clouds. I watched the world go sailing by…..

A boy with a stick swishing it about like Robin Hood on speed (boys want to be men while men want to be boys); two Indian girls stride by, arm in arm, best friends forever – at least until they find some new friends….a 60s-something man in a funny looking bowler hat sits down with his mate and savour their ice creams in the sun; a dog, a real honest-to-goodness hound lies on the ground, half asleep from his canine exertions; an afro-Caribbean woman in a bright dress is under the shelter and dancing around the support posts with her ten year old son as if she’s at a ball. (and she is). She high-fives her son and I grin at their carefree actions; some people of my acquaintance sit and chat with me for a while then move on, wishing me well; a nicely attired granny tells her grandkids they can have anything they want – then turns her nose up at the sickly sweet confectionery chosen; I wave at one of the mums from the school. She is with her son and his friend enjoying the last day of the hols before the start of term; a man walks by with his wife. He has silver hair and a short matching beard. He’s wearing an old fashioned cap. He looks just like Jeremy Corbyn though I can’t see a red star on the cap so I assume he’s just a mismanaged doppleganger; a tough looking big guy strolls past with his girlfriend in tow. He has a ‘dog’ on a leash, one of those hideous miniature yappers in a little coat. He doesn’t look pleased to be seen with her pride and joy – but at least he’s getting laid tonight.

The day is calm. The September sun still shining. The trees are various shades of emerald. My phone rings and I reluctantly leave the parade as life moves on without me to observe its comings and goings…..

So, the Right Dishonourable Prime Minister is going to close down parliament for several weeks. By and of itself, this isn’t illegal but the timing is very suspect. Boris Johnson, just like his mentor in the White House, is a coward. During his race with Jeremy Hunt, he cancelled debate sessions several times. Now on a much larger scale, he’s too frightened to take on his many critics in parliamentary debate during one of the most crucial events in the last 100 years, stifling opposition to get his own way.

There is no mandate of the people – the referendum was nothing more than an opinion poll which stupid or manipulative politicians decided was a crucial and national game changer. It wasn’t necessary to invoke Article 50. The so-called Voice of the People was a 52% lead over the 48% of Remainers. Democracies and election results change – those who want to stay in Europe are at 53%. That figure increases significantly when it comes to the disastrous No Deal option.

Yet here we are being dictated to by a man who was voted in by 0.1% of the population (ie rabidly right wing xenophobic tories) with a party that doesn’t have a clear majority thrusting a deeply unpopular action of great national importance which most of the nation do not want. And to make matters infinitely worse, he has silenced parliament with the pretence that this is business as usual.

How in the name of God did we come to this?

Last Friday was the 50th anniversary of what is, arguably, the greatest music festival ever.

Set on Max Yasgur’s dairy farm 80 miles from New York in August 1969, it featured some of the best rock, soul and folk artists of the day. It was opened by Richie Havens whose old blues spiritual ‘Freedom’ became a sort of anthem. There were also newcomers such as Crosby, Nash, Stills and Young – “This is only our second gig, man – we’re scared shitless.” Another act nobody ever heard of, Carlos Santana, took the festival by storm with his energy driven ‘Soul Sacrifice.’ (they had apparently dropped some acid in the belief that they weren’t due to appear till four hours). The headline, Jimi Hendrix, at the top of his game, performed a stunning set including a rocked up version of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ complete with feedback imitating rockets and planes as a Vietnam reference. Unfortunately, because of postponements and technical problems, Hendrix didn’t appear till Monday morning to a reduced crowd of 30,000.

Something like half a million people turned up to Woodstock, many without tickets. Once the security fence came down, the organisers declared it a free festival. It was beset by problems such as lack of food, transport getting onto the site and a thunderstorm on the Sunday threatening to cause some serious damage what with all the electrics and sound equipment. But it became famous for its peaceful vibe and hippie dreams of just getting along with everyone. In many respects it was the swansong of the 1960’s and represented the best of a somewhat turbulent decade. I was only eight years old at the time but would have loved to have been there as a young adult. Some say the event was transformative.

These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts and are

things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and

published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while

the exchanges were taking place……

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that

morning?

WITNESS: He said, ‘Where am I, Cathy?’

ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?

WITNESS: My name is Susan!

_______________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?

WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?

WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth?

WITNESS: July 18th.

ATTORNEY: What year?

WITNESS: Every year.

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you?

WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can’t remember which.

ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you?

WITNESS: Forty-five years.

_________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?

WITNESS: I forget..

ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you

forgot?

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his

sleep, he doesn’t know about it until the next morning?

WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?

WITNESS: He’s 20, much like your IQ.

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?

WITNESS: Are you shitting me?

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?

WITNESS: Getting laid

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children , right?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: How many were boys?

WITNESS: None.

ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?

WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I

get a new attorney?

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?

WITNESS: By death..

ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?

WITNESS: Take a guess.

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?

WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard

ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?

WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I’m going with male.

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition

notice which I sent to your attorney?

WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor , how many of your autopsies have you performed on

dead people?

WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go

to?

WITNESS: Oral…

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?

WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 PM

ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?

WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?

WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?

______________________________________

And last:

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a

pulse?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?

WITNESS: No..

ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you

began the autopsy?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?

WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.

ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive,

nevertheless?

WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

I was hiking in the Colne river family and we passed through Denham outside of Uxbridge. This is the charming village where one of my favourite actors, John Mills, spent his last years, dying at the ripe old age of 97.

Unlike many of his peers and elders (Olivier, Gielgud, Richardson) Mills had a wide character range and could play many parts from generals and aristocrats to common soldiers and simpletons – though Alec Guinness comes a close second. Who could forget the humble Willy Mossop complete with Lancashire accent or Dickens’ Pip struggling to elevate himself in society?

He starred in a comprehensive array of great films including spirited roles in many world war two movies. His greatest work includes Ryan’s Daughter, Great Expectations, In Which We Serve, Ice Cold in Alex, Dunkirk, The Colditz Story, The History of Mr Polly and Scott of the Antarctic. My favourite however, is a little known film made in 1945 called The Way to the Stars about an airfield used first by the RAF then the Americans and all folk, civilian and military, affected by the war. It looked death in the face and effectively showed the geniune cameraderie during those difficult years. Audiences said the film resonated with how they felt and Mills plays a great part from green newbie to hard-bitten veteran.

So raise a glass to one of our screen greats (who, frankly, should receive far more plaudits than the overly theatrical Olivier), the multi-talented, perennial gentleman, John Mills.

I hear a lot of talk about my country getting its sovereignty back – as if we have been under enemy occupation for the last few decades and denied the right to vote or freedom of speech. We were never occupied during the war like western Europe and, latterly, eastern Europe by totalitarian regimes hell bent on enslaving the populace.

Given recent events, it seems that very little has changed since the days of the aristocracy when the hoi polloi were denied the vote unless they were male and owned land and property. Currently we have a prime minister voted in by less than 1% of the population, without the mandate of a general election who will ruthlessly and without consultation, implement an agenda that three years on, the majority of the British people fundamentally disagree with.

Furthermore, we are about to enact trade deals with a ruthless and manipulative political leader over the Atlantic who has bankrupted himself several times over and who will enact unfair agreements to our detriment. We are in the process of becoming the 51st state of America and governed by a sycophant and fellow narcissist who, much like Tony Blair, is flattered by overtures from Washington.

Perhaps someone could tell me how we are supposed to regain our sovereignty in these conditions? Answers on a postcard please.

Is it five or six weeks now since my kidney transplant? Hard to tell when I’m not currently at work and the days slip by without notice. Recovery is slow but sure….being able to eat virtually what I please, enjoying a full shower and having an entire week to myself without dialysis are all improvements to my life. God bless the NHS and the contribution by my dear sister. Lots to enjoy and think about.

I’m particularly fond of the English countryside at the moment….in Dorset (God’s Own County) with my mother and sister. We had a fabulous walk around Throop just on the outskirts of Bournemouth; a short drive and you’re surrounded by fields and trees and the gently flowing, crystal clear river Stour. The next day we were at Arne Nature Reserve near Wareham with its arboreal splendour, woodland paths, mixed habitats and stupendous views of Poole harbour. Followed by an al fresco meal at the thatched roof Halfway Inn.

I’m trying not to immerse myself in the twin catastrophes of Trump and ‘Bojo’ – surely an acronym for ‘Brexit Or Jack Off’. Calling them populists seems like a polite euphemism for two aggressively narcissistic individuals surrounded by sycophants right of Genghis Khan (Priti Patel anyone?) and hell-bent on crushing the common people, many of whom still offer their full support. Meanwhile, a certain ex-KGB officer in the Kremlin is laughing his socks off at the stupidity and rank gullibility of the voting public in the West, not to mention the vanity of Trump and the corruption of Moscow Mitch, fulfilling Russian agenda at the drop of a hat (and a generous contribution). The world feels like it’s turning on its axis.

So, the recent news is that under a ‘deal’ with Trump’s America, the cost of our prescribed drugs will go up many times as this whinging grifter, constantly complaining of other countries ripping off the U.S, will seek to rob British citizens via the NHS. Try as I might, I can find nothing positive in this crass and degrading excuse for a man…..

this self-centred, self-obsessed, self-indulgent, self-absorbed narcissist;

this empty mannequin of a president;

this cantankerous, pugnacious foul-mouthed braggart;

this devious imp, brimful of spite and raw, naked hatred;

this upstart Pretender to the Washington throne;

this Pied Piper to the hypnotised redneck masses;

this moral bankrupt who has painted the White House black;

this ruinous leader who rules like a mob boss;

this perennial enemy of all things wild and natural;

this foul abuser of the weak and vulnerable and dispossessed;

this bitter harbinger of jealousy and envy;

this rank hypocrite, re-enacting his condemnations;

this abject waste and faintest semblance of a human being;

this consummate liar, this serial liar, this liar who lies for politics and pleasure;

this autocrat in waiting, held in thrall to murderous dictators;

this boastful misogynist and abuser of the marital home;

this congenital moron elevating himself to ‘stable genius’;

this unashamed white supremacist and unrepentant racist;

this ‘Cadet Bone Spurs’ who promoted himself to Coward-in-Chief;

this con artist, this jackal, this vulture, this cancer, this parasite, this fake.

You know how it runs…..you have a choice of three things to chuck into the famous Room 101. Here are mine…..

DEADWALKERS. This is the American term for people (and I use the word ‘people’ grudgingly) who wander about in public places with either a pair of headphones blasting out some inane crap that passes for music or their entire being glued to their i-phones like it’s some sort of umbilical cord, utterly and completely oblivious of anyone trying to get past them, of unmovable obstacles such as lampposts or even that they’re crossing a road and liable to get mown down. Frankly, our world is over-populated and they deserve to die. The zombie apocalypse is not a fictional idea; it is upon us right now.

ICEBERG LETTUCE. Can there be a more pointless foodstuff? It is without taste and without any calorific value. It is so-called because licking an actual iceberg will have much the same effect as consuming this worthless green crap. It is used by cheap cafes to fill up a plate of bland and unimaginative salad. Its only other function is to take up vital space in your fridge which could easily be taken with something nutritious like spinach or cress. I was once asked at a diner in Oregon if I wanted a salad with my meal. She plonked on my table a dish of week old iceberg lettuce, brown at the edges and drowning in sickly blue cheese sauce. No, I say, no.

DONALD TRUMP. This is a childishly easy target but I hate the bastard. I really do. He’s a low-life, ostentatious, arrogant, disrespectful, self-righteous, lying, hypocritical, spiteful, petty-minded, woefully ignorant, barely literate, racist, misogynist, homophobic, promiscuous, cheating, loud-mouthed, dysfunctional, utterly incompetent, soulless fake and empty shell who barely qualifies as a human being. He must be quickly thrown into Room 101 and there left to rot.