Last year, I did two-Hornbyesque (actually there was nothing Hornbyesque about them, I’m flattering my own ego if I think this is anything like the sublime ‘High Fidelity’) lists of things that were important to me – ‘ten songs that changed my life’ and ‘ten reasons to be cheerful’….and in my reasons to be cheerful, I didn’t even mention the diminutive in stature but gigantic in personality ‘Ian Dury’, after whose song the series got named.

I also started a ‘ten films I’ve loved’ but on that occasion, I only got as far as no 1 – too much life got in the way last year for any further musings on mere celluloid.

So, after what seems like a lifetime of er well….. life, back comes my ten fabbie films.

For some reason, ‘a touch of class’ is one of those for me. Now I know Halliwell dismisses this film as lightweight tat (and Halliwell is much better equipped to pontificate on it than me) but I still love it.

For anyone out there for whom the delights of this sad comedy (I don’t know if that’s how anyone else would describe it but I think it fits the bill) have passed them by, it’s got Glenda Jackson (now an MP) and George Segal in it as a couple who start an affair by hating each other. It’s based on that old premise of a thin line between love and hate. I have no idea whatever why remembering this film still makes me smile but it does. All I can say is that’s quite an accolade when you remember the terrible fashion statements in the film. One wonderful thing about it is that I think (though it may be rose-tinted memory glasses) that there was a Fiat 500 in it – a little car that has always had a place in my somewhat warped heart since the days of ‘Florence (who, coincidentally or otherwise was a Fiat 500) and Dougal’ – a reference to the Magic Roundabout and the names of the two cars of our next-door neighbours in 1972 – the Nortons!

So, ‘a touch of class’ it is – now how on earth do I depict that when I wouldn’t know an objet d’art if it jumped out and bit me. Me – the girl who thinks I’ve gone big-time sophistication by being forced to move ‘up-market’ from C&A to M&S….and only because I was forced into it by C&As decision to close their UK stores. I must confess, rather sadly, to having spent an hour in C&A in Madrid when I was there last year, just fondling clothes that were not designed for teenagers and didn’t cost an arm and a leg. There is such a gap in the UK market for a store aimed at the likes of me. Well, that’s if the UK clothing industry thinks that catering for a mad old codger like me who’d ban beige at the drop of a hat (and would equally fill the store with black, gold, pink, red and maybe even a little bit of fake fur) has any merit whatsoever and I’m sure they don’t.

All of the women in Europe are now cringing with embarrassment for me and wondering why on earth I have confessed in writing to this dirty secret of mine but there you go – I never could keep my trap shut for a single moment, even in a crisis.

Anyway, given that the most interesting thing I’ve done all day since my early-morning cuddle with DM before getting up at some ungodly hour to do a 600 mile round trip to spend an hour with a client is to ponder on my story for today and my pic, I decided to rekindle this series for 2006.

Bizarrely, the lady opposite me has just deliberately flung a cup across the train’s aisle at me in fury because the train is running an hour late. She’s talking in a broad Brummie accent about ‘British Rail’s’ shortcomings on a mobile phone, which is, at least providing me with a little entertainment!!! (Always look on the bright side….)

I’ve not seen the film for 20+ years – I wonder how I’d feel if I saw it today?

Whatever you’re looking at now is surely not ‘classy’ (I have no idea what you’re looking at as I type this, I have not yet formed a plan) but cut me a bit of slack – it’s been a long day and I have a meal to cook for our supper, a cuddle to have on the sofa…..no, not with DM, with the little black hairy one, my very own canine ‘Kate Moss’ – don’t ask why she’s called that regularly in our house……it’s not terribly flattering to the supermodel!!! There is also the important task of rubbing Archie’s tummy needing my urgent attention.

OOOhhhh – now I’ve just been inspired – go ironic – it’s the only way!!!! Ooohhhh – not only that but I know what my ironic pic will be of!!! Hallelujah – praise the great god of ideas and kitsch. I’ve photographed three beautiful objects left over from our predecessor and this is the fourth object, on its way from bathroom to dustbin. La la la – I knew I’d find something useful to do today……

Last year? Nice - the start of the slippery slope that led me to despair and back.