I can barely type this I am so upset - how thoughtless others can be. Fancy allowing me to have to do without so much; so much that I should be granted based on my give, give, give lifestyle and personality alone. I mean, don't get me started on the lack of MBE (so far). Luckily for the needy it is not enough to put me off my constant struggles on their behalf. I can hear a few NGOs (thems which haven't been disbanded by the ConDems) exhaling with relief. I mean, what would the helicopter arm of literature have done without Yorkie - Fergie. Give it some thought why don't you!
So I'm flicking through my How to Spend It supplement of the Weekend FT in the Royal Spa, watching the rugby and debating the Pakistan issue with the old man, and I suddenly realise, having read my third article about yachts, that I’m never going to be rich enough to enjoy the lifestyle I crave, no, deserve (due). This is quite an upsetting epiphany.
I sit bolt upright and turn to my Father and say 'I don't know how you can live with yourself knowing I don't have a yacht!'
Do you know what he did then - he chuckled, cold and heartless I calls it. Fancy taking so little interest in your son’s well being, that his trauma causes you to chuckle! I'm speechless, thank heavens this is text based, otherwise you'd have to go without.
It really is not fair. I would so love to be super rich (or rich would do). I don't want diamonds, I don’t want furs, I done want fine Champagnes and Cognacs, and I don’t even want a Lamborghini. But what I do want, what I do crave, what I do need and deserve is extensive luxury travel around the world staying at the most prestigious spas and resorts to a platinum level of quality, comfort, service and wonderment. This is what I require.
I continued - 'I don’t think I'm ever going to be rich - I've missed my boat' - not a glimmer of apology, no sense of remorse, no ‘here’s 10k – please son, please go and enjoy 3 weeks in Gallipoli – I hear it’s the new Positano don’t you know!’ Nothing...., empty....
But I don’t want to have to see the world via easyJet and cheap make do and mend locations, I want extreme luxury and I want the blue waters of the world’s finest seas lapping on my bronzing toes as I savour the breeze and the low sun of a late summer rendez vous with destiny. ‘We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now!
There are quite a few white sails bellowing in this imagery for me, in addition to a well groomed forearm factored, blue eyed, salting haired so an so with a look in his eye that would make a midwife blush, attending to me with fine wines, gastronomy délicieux du pays, grande cru, cru bourgeois etc., etc., etc., etc..
Suggestions, cheques and telephone numbers on a postcard, or postcards to the usual address please.