He's A Celebrity We Are Safe Here

One wonderful thing about famous people is that you don't need to worry about them attacking you. In the presence of a complete stranger, let's say walking towards you on a remote country path, you can never be totally sure that they won't lunge at you with a crowbar. But say, for instance, you recognise the approaching man as being Michael Winner you can totally relax.

He will not harm you. He's far too high profile so if he did you wouldn't even need to do a photo fit for the Rozzers. You would just tell them to watch 'Michael Winner's Dining Stars' and go for the main guy.

The Friday Sermon - Sponsored By Fiat

4.45pm. Stuck in abysmally dull traffic on the Bath ring road. I've been in the Punto since 10am and for much of it in either stationery or slow moving hell. I'm doing all this as a favour for a friend. He called me last night and asked if I'd mind spending a whole day stuck in abysmally dull traffic. I joyfully replied, "Yeah, sounds great. Where do I sign?" to which he replied, "You don't have to sign anything. Gentleman's agreement. See you at 10."I sit here philosophically. Today is Friday. To me it is the sacred day. But they are only sacred in terms of not working. And I'm not working. Even if I'm sitting in a stupid piece of ugly metal in sweltering heat all day the point is I'm still not working. And that'll do for me. Amen.

An Afternoon Art Attack

An afternoon at an art gallery. On dating websites this is a possible multiple choice answer to the question "What would you like to do on a first date?" Other possible answers include 'A drink or seven in a pub', 'A game of Battleships' and 'An evening pretending your cheese'. I went on a cheese pretending first date once. I just kept quiet and stilton all night while she cheddered on about herself. We didn't see each other again.

I'm not actually on a date myself today but I bump into a couple who are. One of whom, who shall remain nameless for legal reasons (but Matt Sage you know who you are), comes out with the classic put down line of contemporary art critique. The line, "My four-year-old daughter could have done that."

I laugh ironically. I want to ask him how come his four year old daughter doesn't exhibit but then remember:
a) It's this kind of subjectivity that makes modern art so fascinating
b) I've been thinking some of this stuff is quite questionable myself
c) He doesn't actually have a four-year-old daughter

I wonder if this artist actually has a four-year-old daughter, who he gets to knock up the odd piece for his exhibitions. And perhaps she has exhibitions herself where he does the same for her. Other four-year-olds come along to it and announce to each other, "Jesus, my 40 year old dad could have done that."

A Day In Anniversary Wood

It's my fifth anniversary of liberated Fridays. Ah, a day in the woods me thinks.

Ben drives me in. He is a bear, absorbing my enthusiasm like it's absorbable salmon flavoured plankton. He drops me off at The Trout public house. It's all early morning desertion and distant clink of preparation. The sun is moody and adolescent in a parental blue sky. The wood awaits me like crinkly lettuce to slug.

In the next three hours I do not cross one other human being. My only contact with the outside world is a phone call from Page. But more of that later. Patience.

Before I penetrate the wood I'm a sunbathing whore on a wooden bench. Here I discover the hawthorn tree! I lived 25 years 3 months and 16 days of my life in a house called 'The Hawthorns' yet have never known what one actually looks like. I mistook the conker tree we had there for a hawthorn. Armed today with a tree detecting book I'm able to identify the tree next to me as hawthorn.

I penetrate the wood. Dappled sunlight on monster trees. Quiet as a mouse save for the monotone defiance of the nearby A34. Many paths to choose from sets the pattern early. I duck left.

I begin by pussyfooting - edging in and out. In being wood, out being wood and field's edge. Be brave Bombardier! Lose yourself. Jump into the dark and borrow.

I become bombardier and jump. Delightful. A 'he who dares' moment rears it's wise old head. I notice a curious dip down off the path and take it laughing in the face of a nettle fire that crackles and hisses in protest. My reward is water! A hidden gem. A lush pond surrounded by Tropicana.

I skirt round to the sunny side and watch dragonflies catch and enjoy their prey before racing off to discuss their meals with each other. Our equivalent would be describing a delicious meal to a workmate and being met with a hearty "Well, if it's that good then Julie and I must give that place a try." But they never do. They only ever go to the Thai restaurant on the Shepperton Road and who can blame them. Pad Thai to die for.

Onwards I hop, skip and jump past beech, birch and oaks. It's dense. The sky has a limited invitation to this party. Printed on 250gsm paper. Trebuchet font.

I perch above invisible badgers, busy sleeping off their morning sherries before they rise in the still of night to watch Attenborough on iPlayer.

I walk on heartily. A ruminant pace. This is more of a 'be' than a walk. I'm just allowing myself to 'be' in the woods. Some may call this pretentious but I would say to those spiritually impoverished cynics, "Hey there man. Don't fret. Come and snuggle into me. Let me hold you still and kiss your silly little head. It's all okay. Everything's all right. Breathe deeply and feel my heart beat next to yours. Do you feel that? We are alive my friend. Alive!"

There is natural art in these them woods. I shimmy around a piece even the late and great Henry Moore could only dreamt of creating. A fallen twisted and knotted tree trunk has become a kind of eagle faced man tree with appendages spiralling out as if to ward off evil spirits created by the competitive energy of eBay users. I want to take a picture to document my find but have no camera. My phone rings. It's Page.

"Page dear boy, it's you!"
"Yes."
"Oh Page."

"What's up mate."
"Well, I've just shimmied around an amazing eagle faced man tree but I haven't got a camera to document it and show other human beings at a later date."
"Okay mate. I'll deal with this. What have you got with you?"
"A bag."
"Okay. Do exactly what I say. Open the bag up. What can you see inside it?"
"A cardi, a paté and cucumber sandwich x 2, a book on trees and a book on birds, a braeburn, a piece of tiffin, some suncream, 6 plasters, tube of Germaline, shades, a bottle of water, binoculars, 2 pens and a notepad."
"You've got your notepad?"
"Yes."
"And a pen?"
"Yes. Two of."
" Then just draw it man. Draw the eagle faced man tree."
"Draw it?"
"Draw it."
"Draw it?"
"Draw it."
"Draw it!"