Thank goodness it’s raining. What a relief. We hardly had a winter worth mentioning. The electric blanket is on the verge of turning mouldy and the heaters are almost in the state in which I left them at the beginning of summer. My electricity bill does not reflect any of this scarcity of use though.

Which of us can bear the thought of six hot months of summer descending upon us and no winter to look back on. There’s all this talk of global warming and I perspire just at the thought of more centigrades in Europe than we already have. I listen on the radio to all the discussions and it goes right over my head. If I recycle will that stop the global warming?

A reader, a dancer, read my comments on joint-care some two or so weeks ago and wrote to tell me not to fret about glucosamine even though it may have that ‘oh-dear-I’m relentlessly-slipping-into-arthritic-old-age’ connotations. This young woman – she’s only 36 – has been taking pills with glucosamine for six years following a knee problem which had been a chronic bother since she was 15.

After trying everything out of sheer desperation, she went to see a dodgy Bulgarian faith healer who couldn’t even speak any English and charged her Lm30 for a fifteen minute prodding session. “After trying everything, out of sheer desperation at not even being able to hobble along let alone dance, I came across the wonderful ‘Fairy God Mother’-like combo of glucosamine sulphate and omega fish oils and believe me they have made an amazing difference – and I am still dancing even though it requires a lot of intelligent working around the weak points and joints

keeping strong with Pilates and Yoga – the true joys of aging gracefully.

So, I’ll keep on swallowing and hope they will not have side effects I shall only discover when it’s too late.

I have no intention of curling up and dying as you can very well imagine. So Viva glucosamine and anything that comes with it.

Well, I had an invitation to attend a launch of an anti-age cream – La Roche-Posay’s latest. There was a handful of ‘nice’ girls in one of the conference rooms at the Hotel Juliani when I arrived late and a cursory look told me that none of them needed anti-wrinkle cream. But after listening to a light but enlightening talk by Professor Joe Pace, the well-known consultant dermatologist, on the aging of the skin once we turn 50, I thought otherwise. La Roche-Posay, as we know, pride themselves in spending money on research rather than packaging.

The presentation was followed by dinner at Zest where Joe looked after the ordering of the wine. We applauded his choice and even Peter Apap who was footing the bill approved. Joe is closely connected to the European Academy of Dermatology and Venereology. Maybe he is president, maybe honorary secretary. Pamela must know for she was quizzing him while I was busy inspecting my food with only one ear on the conversation. He did say that The Academy now has a permanent office in Brussels, an Art Nouveau house on the Avenue General de Gaulle which was designed in 1901 by the architect Ernest Blerot a friend of Victor Horta, the master of Art Nouveau. Some of you may have visited the Horta Museum in Saint-Gilles in Brussels which was Horta’s home and studio. I went with my 1980 girl when she was working there and absolutely loved it. I had to be dragged out and only the promise of a hot chocolate brought me to my senses.

Anyway, the anti-wrinkle evening turned out to be most pleasant and persuaded me to slather as much cream on my face as possible. Otherwise I am going to look like an old witch soon. Perhaps I do already. I avoid looking at mirrors these days.

Which brings me to Melica Micovic who joined our table for coffee on a Saturday morning lately. We were talking about the church, divorce, IVF and so on. Melica has liberal views like me and is full of Grrrr and Oomph which I love. She is also well informed and interested in anything and everything, which cannot be said for at least half the population. She told me: “You know something Marie, in another century you and I would have been burnt at the stake as witches.” I loved that because it is so true. We simply do not fit into any pigeon hole and that’s what society wants, citizens who can be pigeon holed. But we simply are not pigeon hole people at all. Melica will not curl up and die either.

Good news. There is a new film about Edith Piaf named after one of her most famous songs La Vie en Rose which opened the Berlin Film Festival last month. In it Charles Dumont who wrote the defiant Je Ne Regrette Rien, and is now an old man, sings the song which made him famous. He went to Piaf’s home to show her the song he had written for her. But although she was sick she insisted that he and his friend come inside and show it to her. Piaf’s verdict that it would make him famous was correct. She knew a thing or two about songs.

This is the song which Norman Lamont former Conservative Party of the Exchequer is said to have sung in his bath, in 1992, on the withdrawal of Britian from the European Exchange Rate Mechanism.

I wonder if we shall ever see this film here. I shall probably have to buy a DVD in a year’s time to add to my collection of Piaf books, CDs and long playing records. Je Ne Regrette Rien has been sung by so many, but none sing it like her. She was truly unique.