On Tuesday my Big Apple mate arrived. She has won her fight for US citizenship despite the intervention of her octogenarian husband. Who insisted on joining her for the interview. Having taken forty minutes to process across the hangar-like waiting room on his Zimmer, he shouted at the official: "I have come to see my wife's oppressors!" A showstopper by any standards, and sufficient to have him barred from proceedings... Fortunately my pal can name quite a few presidents and knows who wrote the Star Spangled Banner, so she's in. On Wednesday the house painter, Ulysses, turned up at five. "I thought you were starting this morning?" I said, noting the only tool in his hands was a roll-up. "I'm busy," he said, wearily, "But I promise to start on the 25th." Again he refused my offer of scaffolding, assuring me his ladder stretches three storeys. "That's all very well, but I don't want to risk a dead man in my garden," I said crossly. "I can't die," he assured me, "I have two small children to keep." Clearly Zeus is acting as his oppo. Yesterday, a seminar at The Oval. On the pitch, men rolled balls in the sunshine. Entombed in the vast, low-ceilinged rooms of the conference centre, I yearned to feel that same air on my face; to hear their banter, and the occasional thwack... Lots of fresh air this weekend, thank goodness. We're off to the Cotswolds:-)