I've always despised Nimbys - people making a fuss about this and that, endlessly objecting to some new extension.
It's just mean-spirited and uncollaborative. Is it really such a problem for a neighbour to build a new shed or gym in their back garden, even if it disturbs your previously unsullied view?
But the other day I got a notice about planning permission for a neighbour's new windows.
Despite this request being lodged some months ago, our local council alerted us only just before the deadline for objections.
New windows are usually fine by me, but these can only be accessed from the outside, by a path I own.
It runs along the back of our row of houses and was originally intended as a kind of tradesman's entrance, but now serves as a storage spot for bits and pieces.
The new windows will draw unwelcome attention to this alleyway from the street and make it even more likely to attract break-ins. So along with others in our west London terrace, I lodged my objection. This has been ignored and permission was granted.
I haven't yet decided how far I am going to go when it comes to manning the barricades to my property. Preventing access will make it far more logistically difficult for the installation of the windows.
How much do I want to become a hate figure for someone who has moved in to a house at the end of my garden? What's the protocol here? Should I be banging on their door to announce that I'm not letting them anywhere near my path?
This Nimby behaviour is not the way I like to think of myself. I hate people who object to change and try to keep homes and neighbourhoods set in the aspic of days gone by. But who knew? It appears I've become one of these tedious objectors, and that's even worse than the planned windows.
I so want to sleep, I'll even give tai chi a go
As a sufferer of insomnia, I'm riveted by research published in the British Medical Journal that suggests the ancient Chinese martial art of tai chi could be the secret to a good night's sleep.
For most of my life I enjoyed the sleep of the dead, zonking out as soon as my head hit the pillow and remaining blissfully somnolent until the alarm went off in the morning. No longer.
I still crash out in seconds, but wake just three hours later, only to carry on dozing and waking on an hourly basis until the clock tells me it’s acceptable to give in and get up.
After those initial few hours, my sleep is only surface-deep, like skating on ice.
Most people’s sleep worsens as they age but what I’m going through is extreme.
I’ve tried sleeping pills (bad for you and work for only four hours); sleep gummies with melatonin and valerian root extract (absolutely useless); and yogic deep breathing, which is meant to stop a motor mind but doesn’t.
Over time I’ve learned that during the times I can’t get back to sleep, it helps to get out of bed, go into another room and read a book for half an hour. But it’s surprisingly hard to make oneself do that.
Otherwise I take a few drops of passionflower tincture, which does still a whirring brain. But on a nightly basis I am a member of the 3am club.
The thought of having to add another exercise class doesn’t thrill me, but if the slow deliberate movements of tai chi is what it takes to sort my insomnia, I’ll be joining the regulars who practise it in the park opposite.
A jury is vital - it is not to be dismissed
Many years ago, in the 1980s, I was called for jury service. It was one of the most interesting experiences of my life and showed me how well the system worked.
I wonder if Justice Secretary David Lammy, once a practising barrister who is proposing juries should be abolished for all but the most serious crimes, has ever been on one.
My jury presided over a stabbing on a houseboat involving three young men. There was no question that it had taken place, but was it grievous bodily harm or accidental harm?
We were a diverse group who all felt compelled to come to the right decision, given it would affect these boys’ lives for years to come. In the end I believe we got it right - even if it was only once the sentence was handed down that we learned the ring leader had a previous conviction for violence, while the other two were basically tag-alongs.
The Government might be coming for our savings, but please leave our jury system alone.
Making millions starts at bedtime
American make-up artist and entrepreneur Bobbi Brown has just published her autobiography, Still Bobbi. This is a woman who founded a hugely successful brand, sold it for millions and in her 60s launched a second make-up range, Jones Road.
I’m not a fan of reading stories about business success, but I am always interested in how working women manage their home life. My favourite hack from Brown’s book is how she would put her three small boys to bed at night in their school uniforms so she didn’t have to waste time getting them dressed in the morning. Genius.
Turkey? I'm stuffed. Time for a new bird
I went to my first Thanksgiving dinner last week, and what a feast it was.
Our hostess had slaved for hours to dish up turkey with all the trimmings, having just got off a plane from New York.
Not only was it delicious but, now I’ve had one major turkey dinner, I feel it’s let me off the hook - I can divert from tradition and try duck instead for Christmas this year.