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    Fake Blog Entry: Chris Martin

    Springtime is finally here! I simply ADORE it when the clouds part and the sun shines down on the little village of North Londonshire On The Wold. It seems almost as if the whole world has been wrapped in a really fluffy yellow towel made of pure sunshine. It's a clean towel, with the smell of freshly-mown lawns on it, from some really expensive fabric softener that Gwyneth got in Harrods, only the other day.


    On a gorgeous morn like this, I like to dramatically whip the curtains apart, open a window, and let the peaceful village atmosphere wash in. Sometimes the very freshness of the air stings my eyes a bit and makes me sneeze, but I love the feeling of good clean air in my lungs, even when the heady aroma gets all over my best 'Make Trade Fair' pyjamas and Gwyneth has to ask the maids to do a morning wash.


    Sometimes the ruffians from the local school walk by while I'm standing there and doing my breathing exercises. I wave at them, making sure they can see where I've written 'Make Trade Fair' on my hand. I think they've realised that I am steely, and determined, and that I will not compromise or bow to pressure in my fight to make the world a better place. That must be why someone has written 'No Bend' on the garden wall, as a gesture of support. Shame the letters have run together a bit, but their solidarity is much appreciated.

    This morning, I did ten sit-ups and ten press-ups, and then did a little dance around the bedroom to my disco CD. It gives me a lovely appetite for my morning muesli. I like to add some fresh fruit - like an apple, I love apples - which I get posted to me directly from an African farmer. He lives with his grandmothers in a really poor country called Tesco. Sometimes he sends me his apples, which he says are golden and delicious, and sometimes I get them from his Granny Smith.


    I don't really mind which ones I get, I just love apples. To me, apples are like nectar, which is a kind of drink that bees like. Apparently they can't get enough of it. I suppose it must have a flavour similar to a gorgeous pollen, or one of those honey drinks I have sometimes when my throat is a bit hurty. I've even called our darling little baby Apple, which is partly because, as I mentioned, I love apples (I DO!), and partly so I will definitely remember her name and not call her Little Gwyneth any more.


    So, once I had finished my bowl of dried apple muesli and apple, in apple juice (Mmm!) I sat down at the piano and had a jolly good think. I try and summon up my personal muse, the Greek deity Appleonia, goddess of all fruit-related products. She was with me on the day I came up with the finest idea for a song ever.


    I was thinking about my favourite things - the sun, Gwyneth's silken hair, vanilla ice-cream, a beach, custard on an apple pie crust, Pac-Man...and Appleonia spoke unto me, saying "What is it that these things all have in common, Chris?"

    Well, it took several minutes for inspiration to strike, but when I looked at the mental picture in my head, I realised one important common thread, I stood up and cried to the heavens "they are all yellow!"


    I was so excited I gave a balletic leap into the air, like I do when Justin Timberlake is on the radio. But my excitement hid from me the fact that we have quite a low ceiling over the piano, and I banged my head and immediately crashed to the ground. Ouch!


    Gwyneth was very understanding, and once she'd wiped up the rush of blood to my head, she even brought me a hot apple juice to calm my jittery nerves. It had a little pinch of cinnamon in it, my favourite!


    Anyway, nothing has come to mind just yet, apart from a few lines about getting apple skin stuck in your teeth. But I don't want Gwyneth to think I mean our baby Apple, so I won't be able to use them. I shall just have to sit here until inspiration strikes.


    That's all for now, pip pip and pass the fruitbowl!



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