Peaches didn’t die of a heroin overdose but a broken heart

The headline that Peaches might have succumbed the same way as her mum, of a heroin overdose, struck more of a chord with me than I would imagine.

Yes, I was as shocked as anyone at Peaches sudden passing but to discover that it might be in the same way as Paula died says much more about Peaches’ state of mind.

To her thousands of Twitter followers Peaches was a wholesome beacon of light, living out the perfect young mum existence, raising two boys, mashing vegetables, walking her dogs, painting Easter eggs. But beneath the veil of home-spun fun life might have been quite different.   

What I have learnt is that becoming a mother doesn't necessarily erase the loss of losing a mother.

I didn't lose my mum to such rock-and-roll circumstances as a heroin overdose but to common, household-name, cancer.

Loss of a parent at any age is visceral and raw but for children and young adults it seems  particularly destructive, leaving many forever weakened and fragile by that loss. 

It’s scary to admit that when I became a mother myself, it helped, but it didn’t heal. In some ways it made the absence more apparent.

In the early days I would see new mums with their mums everywhere. Steering them through the down times, the sleepless nights, the sore bits, the days when they didn’t have time to shower.    

I was fortunate to have a lovely supportive partner. But when I find myself huffing into a paper bag outside Sainsbury’s to stave off another panic attack I wonder, is this me or what happened to mum still?

You see sometimes on the really dark days (luckily these are few and far between), I resonate with those people who are brave enough to square-up to the unknown and slip into a drugged sleep.

I suspect there is nothing afterwards but maybe, just maybe I would get to see my mum again.

  

I imagine sharing a Guinness with her on a sunny Autumn day. She would probably bark at me 14 years’ worth of stiff talking to.  

Asking why I didn't leave ‘so and so’ sooner, why I still highlight my hair (you’re almost 40), why I wrote such a verbose inscription on her grave (grief does funny things) and, importantly, why I gave her car boot treasure away.

My mum died aged 49 and like many people whose parents have died I expect to die at the stroke of midnight on the same day.  I also think that despite the warnings I am pursuing the same path.

There are many steps I could take to avoid breast cancer and yet here I am, blithely drinking my daily allowance of alcohol, not exercising and rarely checking for lumps and bumps.

Perhaps Peaches was on a sabotage mission too?

In trying to recreate the idyllic childhood she had had and taking thoughtful well planned steps to avoid inflicting the pain she had felt, history repeated itself anyway.

  

Consciously I want to avoid the same route as my mum’s death; sub-consciously I think there's something darkly comforting suspecting it might be the same.

Whether the cause of Peaches’ death proves to be true or not, I hope that wherever she is she’s at peace. Or enjoying a natter and cold Guinness with Paula.

Good night sweet girl. 

@melissablamey

Food Bank Bucks

If, like me, you are still rubbing your tummy like a happy Samiad after a glut of indulgence over Christmas then perhaps it’s timely to think about food banks in Bucks.

This was my 39^th Christmas and despite the joy of being able to share it with my little family, something ugly crept in and gnawed at its glittery edges.

Maybe it’s the downturn, maybe it’s growing older but this year I was acutely aware of the grubby consumer Grinch pawing at my purse.     

Supermarkets, stuffing their aisles with goodies to eat from September, adverts touting sales before Christmas day, Easter eggs on sale from 1^st January, all before the pounding of weight watchers and gym membership started.

It’s like we’re on a giant fun fair ride whose only aim is to shake as much change out of you as possible.   

The ‘Pig Goes Pop’ game my 4-year-old received for her birthday has become a cheap plastic reminder of what we have become.  

Born, consume, pop.

Each day the need in Britain grows for food banks.

Unemployment, escalating energy bills and rising food costs are pushing more people than ever before to the financial brink and into food poverty. 

Hunger is horrible.  Or, at least, so I am told.  

I am fortunate enough to only know hunger through choice. True hunger ebbs and flows.  First you feel shaky and weak, then pain which fades until all you feel is hollow and tired.                 

Speaking to Kate Vale, Food Bank Coordinator of One Can Trust - a Bucks-based charity that provides free emergency food parcels - there are around 12,000 children in Bucks living in income poverty.

This translates to approximately one in five children in High Wycombe going to bed hungry.

Sadly, the demand for short-term emergency food parcels in the area is growing. Latest figures from One Can Trust show that number of food parcels issued in 2011 was 225; in 2013 this figure rose to 3,347.

In order to use a food bank you must be referred by a registered agency, such as a healthcare practice, social services or a homeless centre.

Donations, from schools, supermarkets, companies and individuals are delivered to the Big Yellow Self-Storage centre on the London Road. The food is then checked (it must be within use by date), sorted and packed by volunteers for delivery to those in need in the area.

There are around 100 volunteers who generously give up their time to help One Can Trust pack and distribute the food parcels; however, there is always need for more.

I know there are wider term issues to consider here.

I appreciate that food banks are a quick fix, a sticking plaster for something fundamentally wrong with the system - whether that’s cutting people’s benefits, rising unemployment or something else – but we and the Government can’t ignore the rise in food banks.      

I hope to give up my time soon. If you can give up one or two hours a week or offer food donations contact One Can Trust here http://onecantrust.org.uk/contact-us/ or call 07731 789313.

  

    

The road to Mandeville is strewn with sick

It's a major boob when people involved in a car accident at the entrance of Wycombe hospital are forced to travel 45-minutes to their nearest A&E for treatment.

Wycombe has a population in excess of 133,000 and yet for some ludicrous reason the decision was taken to shut our A&E two years ago.     

This means anyone injured or seriously ill must be transported by ambulance or car to Wexham Park Hospital in Slough or Stoke Mandeville – both a toe curling, over hill and dale, 45-minutes away.

Official NHS statistics show that dispensing with our A&E has increased the number of people waiting for treatment for over four hours by five times at both Wexham and Stoke Mandeville hospital.

Perhaps even more scary (and as yet to be documented – surprise!) is the inevitable rise in deaths and babies born in lay-bys that the closure has undoubtedly caused.

Road to Hell

Last month my partner developed a kidney stone.  His second one this year, I am familiar with the routine.  

It starts with vigorous back rubbing, followed by some moves like Jagger then the cushion-biting death throws kick in.  

I realised that my plan to drop my daughter at nursery before hot footing him over to Stoke Mandeville was dashed when Jagger put in an early appearance.

Ushering Matt and my four-year old daughter into the car I started the long, winding journey to Stoke Mandeville in morning rush hour.

We weren't even clear of Prestwood when the guttural man-screaming started.

Trying to save my daughter post-traumatic stress therapy I tried to reassure her that Daddy just 'had a tummy bug' and cranked the volume of 100 giggly wriggly toddler songs as loud as it would go.

Approaching the main roundabout in Great Missenden the vomiting started.

Overcome with pain (kidney stones are the male equivalent of giving birth apparently *raises eyebrow* - but that’s another blog) Matt started to throw up out of the passenger window.

The first round exploded onto a sulk of schoolchildren waiting for their bus. The second lot - and if this is you, I can only apologise – hit a cyclist head on - all to the cheery strains of ‘Hickory Dickory Dock’.     

     
When we finally arrived at Stoke Mandeville I abandoned my sick-soaked partner at the entrance to deliver my daughter (albeit with a five-mile stare) to nursery.

Later that morning I then made the journey again to collect a much more subdued Matt from A&E.

Rambling from the effects of Tramadol, Matt muttered something about being called back in for a scan but that it was likely to be sometime in the next 48 hours.

Sure enough as soon as we arrived home in High Wycombe there was a message from the hospital asking Matt to come back for his scan. That was journey number three.

Annoying? Yes (especially if you're in tremendous pain or a passer-by being sicked on). Life-threatening? No. 

But what of those poor Wycombe folk critically injured, seriously ill or in labour? What happens then? A 45-minute journey is simply too long.

Any fool can see that shuttling patients cross-country won't cut costs (hello - fuel!?) or help a patient’s outcome – at best they might throw up on pedestrians, at worse, they might not make it at all.

Something needs to be done.

What do you think? 

Beat bleak business times with some banging SEO

There is no doubt this is a tough time for UK businesses which is why – whether you are Maurice’s Pet Shop, or a global tech business - having an up-to-date, Google-grabbing website is essential for attracting new business and raising all important revenue. But in these bleak business times is your website working hard enough?

With peoples’ attention spans shorter than a gnat’s whisker it is no good appearing on page four of Google’s search results, by then your buyer has opened the first two links, spied what they want, bagged it and run. 

To give your website the edge on Google, it is important that each page is given the full SEO (Search Engine Optimisation) treatment, which is basically making sure that Google understands exactly what it is you do.  

Here are 9 tips to make your website work harder for you:

1.    Keywords - The first step to website wonderment is to identify the relevant keywords for your business. This is relatively simple; all you have to do is concentrate on the words that people type into a search engine to find the services you offer.

For example, if you sell fishing tackle, users might type in ‘fishing tackle’, ‘fishing rods’ or ‘fishing equipment.’ You also want to identify location-based keywords, as people often type in what they are looking for, followed by the location. For example, ‘fishing tackle High Wycombe’.

Much better than the power of guesswork, however, is to employ some nifty tools to find relevant keywords for you, such as, Google Analytics or the Google Adwords keywords function.

2.    Once you have identified your relevant keywords try to use them in your website domain name. For example, calling your website www.billybass.co.uk doesn’t include information about what you do, where as ‘billsfishingtackleinwycombe.co.uk’ does.

3.    As well as including a selection of carefully chosen keywords in your META description - the short description of your business below your Google listing - also use your keywords in each of your page URLs. For example: www.billsfishingtackle.co.uk/fly-fishing-tackle

4.    Another way to improve your ranking is to make sure you include your main keyword in your page headings and subheading tags.

5.    Pepper your keywords throughout the text on all of your web pages. You shouldn't over stuff your content with keywords as it will read oddly; instead use them in the natural flow of the text. Also underline or bold keywords where you mention them to reinforce what your site is about.   

6.    If you link to another page on your site, use your keywords in the link as this will help improve your site ranking too. For example, if on page one you are talking about fishing rods and you mention fishing bait, you may want to include a link to another page selling fishing bait. Never use ‘click here’ to take your reader to another page, instead make the keyword the link. For example: ‘find out more about fishing bait’

      

7.    Meaningful, well-written content is a must for a successful website. Google prioritises sites with quality, authoritative content about a subject, so although it may take time (or a little investment if you hire a professional copywriter to do it) it will boost your website ranking.

8.    Get back-links. To help improve your site ranking, try to get listed on other reputable sites in your field that rank highly on Google, you can do this by offering to write a guest post or add a tantalising blog to your site that people with a common interest will share. Basically, the more sites that link to your site, the more gold stars Google will give you.

9.    As soon as you have completed your site, submit it to Google. Don’t expect things to happen overnight, it can take several weeks for Google to index a new site. In the meantime, work on making some worthwhile back-links from other quality sites that operate in your field.

These are just the basics and there are several more techniques you can use to improve your Google ranking.   

If you’re launching, or already have an online business, it is important to make sure your website has the right ingredients Google loves, this may take a little time but the reward of fresh, hungry custom will be well worth it.  

For more free friendly advice, pop over to www.melissablamey.com or reach me on Twitter @melissa blamey

Stay Classy San Diego.

  

         

10 things toddlers do that drive you bananas

If you were in Asda today, you might have heard me. I was the blonde fishwife bawling at the three year old to come back/put that down/don’t eat that.  Besides it being easier to take a goat to do your weekly shop, here are 10 other things toddlers do that drive you nuts:

1. Drawing on stuff – walls, the dog, themselves, you, sadly nothing is off limits to a little Salvador Farley armed with a Sharpie. The key is to have lots of scrap paper (birth certificates are good), Cif and gin for later.

2. Hiding stuff – your everyday survival kit - car keys, bank cards and mobile – are under constant threat of becoming toddler treasure. Like magpies who hone in on purely essential items, there is one rule: if they can reach it, it’s fair game. The truth is you've got to stay one step ahead: if you need it, hide it. If you've lost it, check your shoes.

3. Eating stuff – If a toddler’s five-a-day included chalk, bogies, insoles, sel-o-tape and dry dog kibble they would be extremely well nourished. This morning I caught my three year old chewing on a repeat prescription. Please, stick to the edible stuff kids.

4. Saying stuff - Me: “Oh, look, it’s Uncle Alex.”

Toilet roll used as bath toy

Uncle Alex: “Hello, Poppy how are you?”
Poppy: “I don’t like Uncle Alex. He’s got a hairy nose hole.”
Brilliant.

5. Not saying stuff:  Kids who have grasped the concept of talking, do so, a lot. If they’re anything like mine, they prattle, all-day-long. Except when it comes to talking on the phone, then their mouths shut faster than a decent shop on Wycombe high street.
Holding phone out, pleading voice: “darling, please say hello to gramps, it’s his birthday...he’s in hospital...on the Liverpool Care Pathway...please....?” 

6. Touching stuff - I understand the desire to touch is pretty strong in toddlers. But really, everything? From train toilet seats, duck poo and dog’s bottoms, to buying apps you don’t need and calling your work while you are ‘otherwise engaged’ in the bathroom, it is never enough for a toddler to look, it needs a jolly good poke, followed by a press ‘send’ just to make sure.      

7. Weeing on stuff – I had witnessed the phenomena of ‘mums being weed on’ by little boys so was quite glad to have a slightly more 'contained’ little girl, except when it came to toilet training. Holding my little one over a public toilet one day, she projectile peed all over my new Zara jumper.

Top tip: carry a spare top and immerse them as far as possible in the loo to 'minimise seepage'.

8. Falling off stuff – we’ve graced the presence of various Buckinghamshire A&Es three this year. Always unprepared, always without change for car parks and the fetid water they call tea, always to be told she’s ok, always to leave feeling like a new parent twonk.

9. Breaking stuff – I maintain an invoice of items my daughter has ruined/broken on my laptop (including a laptop) and plan to hand it to her 18th birthday, like an anti-disney princess story.  

So far the list comprises:
X 1 X-box – reason: play dough shoved the disc drive
X 1 laptop screen – reason: danced on
X 1 car CD player – reason: used as a money box
X 1 pug dog – reason: fed raisins (ok he’s still with us but the vet did say it was touch and go)
X 1 Guerlain bronzer – reason: smashed into a million pieces, mixed with water and made into teddy food
X numerous CDs – reason: used as ice skates

10. Your stuff - what does your toddler do that drives you bananas? Do tell...

Say hi at www.melissablamey.com

Follow me on Twitter @melissablamey 

The Break-Up

Yes. I admit it.

I haven't done it for six months. Six, long, could-have-travelled-around-the-world but-watched-every-episode-of-Come-Dine-With-Me-Instead-months.   

Between writing, shopping and wiping mushed in custard creams from the antimacassars (don’t have any really but fyi they are those square cloths that Nannas put over the back of their sofas to stop your head soiling their upholstery), at the end of the day, I simply haven't had the energy to do it.

I'm amazed it's still there and hasn't fallen off to be honest. But the other day I checked and there it was. It even looks the same.

I mean, it's sulking but who wouldn't if no one had paid you any attention for this long?

Anyway, enough is enough, there are only so many excuses you make, it is time to pet the neglected elephant in the room.

This is probably going to be ugly. Shall we? 

Hello Blog.

Blog: Oh my god, it is actually you. I didn't recognise you.  I see you had to reset your password it has been so long.

I know, I know. I'm sorry, ok? No one is more disappointed than me. Anyway, I'm here and I am bursting with ...

Blog: Woah, woah back up there Paris Chiltern. You log back in, sorry, break in - I had the locks changed for a reason you know AND your new password is obvious by the way - and expect me to publish when you say? I mean where have you been? What, did the Crazy Horse cabaret not work out for you?

Hey Madam. I’ve been busy. Really busy. A proper busy bee. But I wasn't so busy to realise that I do actually need you.

Blog: You need me?

Yep. You are a string to my bow. The pork pie at my picnic. My unexpected item in my bagging area. You complete me.

Blog: Well seeing as you put it like that. Let’s do this thing big girl. Oh and don’t even think about changing my font. This isn’t a re-branding exercise. Oh and kick some of those spam monkeys to the curb before you start. “I love your blog, it made my life better...read mine at cheap filter cigarettes.com,” gah. Jog on you virtual pigeons pecking at the cyber crumbs of my blog cake.    

I’ll go get my virtual feather duster.

....

It’s hard starting a blog, keeping it up for a while and then, whoops, there you go, four months has passed since your last entry. 

But anything that requires discipline (the gym, a diet, for me, reading a book) is tough.  But in the end, whether you blog for business or pleasure it helps you. If you, like me, have neglected your blog, it’s not too late for you two to work things out.

Five things to blog about when your blog cup has run dry

What’s for dinner? Yep, people are fascinated by the ins and outs of everyone’s lives including what they eat. 

“Mmm, what are you having?”
“We’re having dairylea on toast because I can’t be bothered to go to little Tesco and that in my mind constitutes a warm meal”
“Brilliant”.
“I’ll give you the recipe”.

Learnt something new? I found out what antimacassers are today. No, really? Yes. Tell your audience about something new you have learnt. Easy peasy.

Where’s the dog? No that’s not one.  I am actually wondering where the dog is. In fact I might call my next post 'where’s the dog?'. 

What are you decorating? Maybe nothing. But it’s nice to dream. Write about it.

Say what? I love blogs and books that focus on the inane spoutings of children and people in supermarkets.

For example, our three year old pronounces the word helicopter as 'helitotter' and there is much comedy to be found in faux emergency conversations:

“There are two adults stranded on the north rock face, we’re going to need a winch, alert the helitotter team immediately."

And then next week (ok maybe two weeks) I’ll give you my latest blog – five things that toddlers do that drive you crackers. 

Have you had a break-up with your blog? How did you get your writing groove back?

Come and say hi at my shiny new site www.melissa.blamey.com

No Disassemble! Number Five - Our Shed - is ALIVE!

It’s big, it’s cumbersome, it’s housing arachnids with bodies the size of cup cakes. But when it is time for your faithful shed to go to the great wood chipper in the sky, what exactly do you do with a shed that doesn’t want to die? 

I inherited our shed from my mum who inherited it from her grandfather. Having carefully housed three generations of Blamey garden ‘gubbins’,  last week I looked out at our tired, saggy roofed shed squatting at the bottom of our garden and decided that it was time to euthanize our old friend. 

For a start the roof felt had gone, the boards were rotting and no matter how many litres of Country Brown fence paint I slapped on it in every spring, by autumn the wood was peeking through. This combined with the smell of wet dog and old tea bags that filled your nostrils every time you went in no longer made it a garden haven but a place to avoid.

Having decided that the shed had fettered our view for long enough, I looked around for a shiny new number on the internet.  Which I quickly found.  There she was – ‘Blooma’ - all sparkly and nubile with shiny windows, the promise of 10-year rot free guarantee and – and! – Someone will put her up for the bargain price of £30. Sold! To the lazy lady in the corner who’d rather read Heat magazine and paint her toenails than faff about for half a day putting up a shed.     

But with beautiful Blooma arriving in the next five days I faced the conundrum of what to do with the old shed.

A quick shove and a swear

Looking at its dilapidated form, I decided that all I needed to do was set aside one balmy evening for operation ‘Shed Demolition’, give it a decent shove, a good swear and the whole lot should come clattering down in perfect Green Bin sized planks.

So armed with a hammer and a bottle of pinot grigio I set to it.  A bit of tugging, a large crack – which drew one of our neighbours to his back door to give me one of his best ‘what are you doing now looks’ – and half the roof came away.  Thinking this will be done in time for Teen Mom 2 and a nice cup of tea – I set about trying to break down the walls.  However, after much shoving, some kicks, several hammer blows and lots of stepping back to take large swigs of pinot and size up my opponent, I realised that it wasn’t going to budge.

Like an opening scene from Holby City, I tipsily decided to call in back up in the form of a sledge hammer and pick axe.  But despite swinging both at the walls as hard as I could the sledge hammer bounced off the wood and out of my hand, whilst the pick axe just made neat two inch rodent sized entry holes in the wood.

Realising it was much sturdier and tougher than I had ever imagined, at this point I decided to what any sensible person would have done and began to unscrew the walls from the remaining roof.

Finally confronted with a large shed jigsaw we  - my long suffering partner, Matt, who has witnessed all manner of my wine fuelled DIY demolition projects over the last seven years – from blowing up the pampas grass with petrol, to sledge hammering an asbestos lined  chimney breast -  had to decide what to do with our shed.

Too big to be tipped, too knackered to be sold we decided to teach it a lesson and set it on fire.

For three nights shed carcass burnt on our vacant vegetable patch.

I now know that you don’t mess with 25 year old sheds. They’re stubborn, they’re angry and like Number Five they are much of the ‘no disassemble!’ school of thought.

I have learnt my shed lesson, have you?            

Just time to tweet this before I call the fire brigade....

                 

Snowmaggedon – I don’t think snow

I was as ‘snow giddy’ as the next person when nine inches of snow started to settle on south Bucks last Saturday. 

Rushing from window to window, mewing with delight as the white stuff grew from a dusting, to a frosting, to a thick cheese cake layer.  Interrupting our film to watch the latest weather forecast and squealing with delight as twitter updates talked of ‘blocked roads’ and ‘worsening conditions’.   It looked as though The Chilterns was the eye of the perfect snow storm.

Primed for a week long snow-a-thon, when I shivered awake on Sunday, the reality of our snowfall was, well, a bit disappointing.

In sharp contrast to our last two winters, where a full blown ‘snowpocalypse’ caused  school closures, flight cancellations and road chaos, this was more like ‘travel snow’ – small, compact and manageable.  Like a game of ‘Pass the Pigs’; there to entertain you if you wanted it, easily ignored if you didn’t. 

I think the worst incident that happened involved a SMART car ‘falling over’ in High Wycombe. 

A self-confessed Snowzilla, in the build up to this year’s one day snow fest, I did notice a number of snow-induced phenomena amongst myself and my fellow men.

For example, do you recognise any of the following behaviours?   

Stockpiling - one sniff of a snow sprinkle and we’re off to the supermarket to stockpile soup, milk and matches.  You may have just bought your weekly shop but, no, must...fill...shelves...more.   

It even looked as though they were running low on those dodgy cans of ‘Nurishment’ drink in Morrisson’s on Friday.      

Rubbernecking – not content with watching the snow fall on our own patch, curiosity about ‘other people’s snow’ is overwhelming.  On foot, or by car, snow brings with it a need to know what is going on in other parts of your neighbourhood.   A mere rumour of someone ‘putting their 4x4 in a hedge off of Tancred Road’ and we’re there.  With camera phones.

Force-feeding the birds – for many of us, feeding the birds is not our greatest priority in life. We might scrape the bread board of crumbs outside from time to time, or lob the end of an old Battenburg in their direction but that is about it.  However, when the snow arrives, it’s all about hanging as many fat balls from your Forsythia as you can.      

Snow  watching –  when snow falls we suddenly become obsessed with every minutia of snow related information released from the Met Office.  How long is it here for?  When’s it coming back? Is it going to snow at the weekend? Where is it deepest?  How many flakes fell last night? Why is it white? Can I eat it? Tell me, Michael Fish, tell me.

Anti-snowsocial behaviour – according to the Lincolnite, the local Police had to deal with 198 ‘snow related incidents’ at the weekend.  This ranged from piling snow against residents’ doors to throwing snowballs at houses, pedestrians and motorists. 

Yes, with the snow, comes a certain amount of anti-social behaviour.   

However, explaining to my two year old that children hopping about like crazy mud bugs in the street because they are excited is one thing, trying to explain why there is a large snow penis on our neighbour’s car is another.    

Did I miss anything?  What did you think of the snow? 

Do you know what a 'snow penis' is?

Track Off! Five Very Important Reasons to Derail HS2

Pugs in Space - Whiteleaf Cross on the edge of the Chilterns   

Having been delayed, overcharged and jiggled about on many an unsatisfactory train journey in the UK, I understand the need for this country to improve its rail infrastructure.

I also appreciate that a high-speed super train will bring us in line with the rest of Europe (although interstellar space travel services are likely to be in operation before the HS2 is complete in 2026). 

I also concede that HS2 might encourage more foreign and domestic travellers to see more of our country, making it less ‘London centric’. 

But, really, is writing a highly bounceable cheque for 32 billion for a rail scheme in the hope that a few more outlying towns along the route will be colonised by Body Shop or Costa Coffee, worth it?

If the Government insists on putting forward such a flabby business case, here are my five very important reasons on why the HS2 needs to ‘track off’.

Housing - Buckinghamshire’s housing market is already in a fairly vulnerable and sad state. 

Latest provisional figures show that only 492 new homes were started in the county in the last quarter of 2011. That’s 33% less than the same quarter the previous year. Also, you only have to look around at the vast number of stagnating ‘for sale’ signs to see the lack of movement between buyers and sellers. 

Although confirming HS2’s route may have brought relief to some homeowners concerned whether high-speed Thomas the Tank Engine was going to be rattling their condiments, HS2 has brought uncertainty about house prices and homes ‘saleabiity’ to the whole area, hitting an already flagging market in the housing gooch. 

Passenger Productivity – HS2’s PR machine is working overtime telling us that the HS2 super train will shave 30 minutes off journey times.

That’s 30 minutes of cramming for an exam, 30 minutes finalising a presentation, 30 minutes pondering your ‘flat pack bee hive’ pitch for Dragons’ Den, 30 minutes thinking about bypassing Jimmy’s Pizza and cooking something real for dinner. 

When you consider what ideas may come to fruition in 30 minutes, denying thousands of passengers’ 'thought time' is a false economy, surely?

Show Business - DCI Barnaby: “You see Vicar, Miss Ingleby wasn’t hosting the cake stall at our jolly summer fete, she was conducting an affair with...” *225 mph HS2 train explodes out of tunnel in neighbouring garden, taking several red kites with it*.

The Vale of Aylesbury and Chiltern Hills’ villages, with their easy access to Pinewood Studios, have long been a backdrop for national and international programmes and films. 

From murder happy Midsomer and Oxford loving Lewis, through to Hollywood blockbusters like Sleepy Hollow and Nanny McPhee, these peaceful locations are prime fodder for producers. 

Not only will HS2 threaten to crush the investment and tourism these productions bring, but it will significantly reduce our chances of bumping into Johnny Depp at the hot food counter in Co-op. Has anyone sent a memo about HS2 to Spielberg, hmm? I wonder.

Red Kites – thanks to an intensive protection programme and people feeding them at transport cafes (not allowed apparently), the skies above the Chiltern’s are once again populated with these graceful forked-tailed birds of prey.

So much so, that we have caught them stalking our Pug.  Anyway, the point is, we’ve only just got them back, haven’t we?  

And finally, has the HS2 think tank not seen the disaster film Unstoppable?