* I turn my back for a few days and there is yet another problem with the Netanyahus. And again it’s dairy-related. Allegedly Mrs Netanyahu woke up the superintendent of the couple’s residence “screaming at him for buying milk in a bag instead of a carton as she had demanded”. Apparently when the man complained about the fact that it was 3am, Bibi, who should really have been in the Land of Nod, got involved, telling him to do whatever Sara demanded (sensible man). My sympathies are completely with Sara. Those bags of milk are awful – practically unusable – and if my housekeeper brought one home from the supermarket it would be an instant sacking offence. Some say that Bibi should have been concentrating on important state business, but I am of the opinion that if he can succesfully placate Sara, the Palestinians should be a doddle.
* I have been nursing the inside story of darling Gwynnie’s conscious uncoupling for several months now: after all, who else could she turn to but Mrs C, a willing shoulder in time of trouble (and a reliable source of gluten-free kosher tubs of ice-cream for those oh-so-necessary late-night girly in-depth discussions). I said to her, Gwynnie, Goop or no Goop, it was never really going to work what with you being descended from a long line of rabbis and him being… well, someone called Chris. She had already confided in my sweet friend Vanessa Feltz that she wanted to raise dear little Apple and Moses in (what else?) a Jewish atmosphere. But with a dad whose band had promoted that “Freedom for Palestine” music, well, you see Gwynnie’s dilemma. Me, I’m just surprised it lasted as long as it did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy house-hunting for La Paltrow in deepest north-west London, and, natch, keeping an eye out for school places at JFS. I mean, it could happen?
* Marks & Sparks have begged me to be a part of their leading ladies advertising campaign. When I heard that darling Emma Thompson and the beautiful Alek Wek were going to be involved, I was tempted. Then I found out that Annie Leibovitz was going to be taking the pictures. Ever since the snaps of me with Keith Richard back in the 70s (you remember, the ones that caused a slight problem with Mr Cohen) I have refused to be photographed by that woman. Shame, though.
* Closely following on from little Mila Kunis contemplating marriage to the dashing Ashton Kutcher, comes the happy news that they are expecting their first child. As a qualified doula (not to mention reflexologist) I shall be planning a little time in California later in the year. What with Scarlett’s sprog and Mila’s kabbalah miracle, I shall be spread very thinly indeed...