Nanny state

SO TV presenter Kirstie Allsopp has two nannies, a cleaner and a PA to help her do her job. Good for her. Wouldn’t we all have that kind of help if we could afford it?

She has said, quite rightly, that high-profile women pretending they do it all themselves do other women no favours. The only way she can work is to have all that help. Many other women have the same, if not more, but keep quiet about it, fooling the rest of us into thinking that they are amazing as well as stunning and talented and that back down here in the real world, the rest of us are just plain inadequate.

The exceptions are Esther Rantzen, who had such a team of helpers when her children were small that I reckoned if I had that much help, then I too could present That’s Life.

And Nigella Lawson, who has the sickly sweetly named Team Cupcake running around behind the scenes for her. All that effortless finger licking doesn’t come easy.

Kirstie has two sons aged two and four, and regularly visiting stepsons.

She also has a husband, Ben. But interesting, isn’t it, that the team is described as Kirstie’s help? They are his children, his house too. But that doesn’t count.

In the 21st Century, we still automatically assume that responsibility for children, house, shopping and sorting out the socks, is solely, or at least mainly, the woman’s.

A high flying friend of mine, a sole woman in the dizzy tiers of banking management years ago, would get furious at every top meeting. All those men immaculately turned out by their wives, while she had not only to iron her own shirts, but look after her husband and find the violins/ reading books/sports kit/dinner money for children too.

More men are learning to take care of themselves and do more for their children. But while the unspoken assumption is that they are being terribly terribly good for so doing and that it’s really women’s work, we are still stuck in the dark ages.

And, of course, the reason that all that help is considered solely Kirstie’s perk, is that most men don’t need a team of domestic staff.

After all, they have wives. Job done.

Lowering the Tone?

OKAY, it’s a joke, isn’t it? I mean, Cherie Blair wouldn’t be so pathetically greedy, grasping, thick-skinned, tacky, so utterly lacking in class, dignity, morals, scruples and a sense of decency, or downright self-respect, as to be driven to selling her husband’s autograph for a tenner on eBay?

Especially when they are worth millions, what with the books, a burgeoning property empire and speaking engagements for which they can each earn the average annual wage. Not to mention the day job.

No. After all, she’s a barrister and a part-time judge. She would have a better sense of judgement. Wouldn’t she?

A SEASIDE city in Italy is planning to introduce bye-laws to promote “urban decorum”.

Isn’t that wonderful? It includes laws against excessively short mini skirts, low-slung trousers, drinking in the street, bare-chested men and blasphemy.

Offenders will face fines of between £20 and £400.

This, surely, is the answer to council cuts.

A set of fines like that and one Friday night in Newcastle, Darlington or Middlesbrough and the councils would rake in enough to build a few more schools, offer one to one care in old people’s homes and give us all gold-plated dustbins.

What are we waiting for?

SO after 30 years and 220 million, Sony are ending production of Walkmans, the firstever music on the move. Unless, of course you had your own brass band, or carried a radio around with you.

Remember how we used to get so annoyed at the hiss leaking out of the headphones on the train? If only we knew what was to come – laptops, games, ringing mobiles, braying conversations.

A little hiss seems neither here nor there now.

The sound quality was rubbish.

The tapes got tangled – I was a whiz at untangling them with an old Biro – but they lead the way to MP3s and iPods. The Walkman may be gone, but its legacy lives on.

Now lots of people spend their days plugged into their own private world, cut off from the rest of us, cut off from chance encounters, casual connections and conversations that can lighten the day and make life so much more interesting.

Think how many great love stories started with a brief encounter. These days it wouldn’t happen – everyone’s too absorbed in their own music to engage with strangers.

Enjoy it. But you don’t know what you’re missing.

BRITONS do not wake up fully until about ten o’clock in the morning – even if they’ve got out of bed at 6.40, says a new study.

I know the feeling. Every morning I get up at 6.30, drive to the pool, swim for 45 minutes, shower, dress, dry my hair, drive home, have breakfast and a couple of cups of hot water. And do it all in my sleep.

It’s not until I have my first cup of coffee at 9.30am that I actually wake up.

Which still makes me half an hour ahead of the rest of you...

Backchat

Save our cheques

Dear Sharon,

I WAS interested in Peter Sotheran’s comments about cheques. I absolutely agree.

I receive cheques through the post from people who I don’t necessarily want to give my bank details to. What if there are no cheques? Post isn’t as secure as it used to be. Cash, vouchers and gift cards would be prime objects for theft from the mail, whereas a cheque can only be cashed by the named recipient.

Banks are only interested in profit, they care nothing for customer service. So how can we, the customers, retain a service that we need?

Helen Johnson, (by email)

Dear Sharon,

I had the privilege of meeting Joan Collins at an event in London a few years ago. I hadn’t realised how old she was. She was beautifully made up with a very elaborate hairstyle and very stylishly dressed. What I noticed about her was that unlike the younger stars who slouch and can’t walk properly, she had beautiful posture and walked very elegantly.

I couldn’t tell whether or not she had had cosmetic surgery, but I do know she looked very glamorous and was charming to everyone she met. A real star.

Margaret Adams, Darlington Dear Sharon,

Following your piece on the price of rail tickets: I travel from Durham to Torquay twice a year.

First class fare – £333 return.

Standard class – £141 return.

When I book, I pay £141 for the standard class return. Then I buy an upgrade ticket to first class – £15 each way. Total cost £156.

Saving: £177.

Fred Alderton, Peterlee