I am not a great fan of Robbie Williams, but it appears we may be related.

During his concert at the Roundhouse yesterday he mentioned his aunt, who "I'm sure she is looking down on us now." The audiences made sentimental awwing noises. "She's not dead," he added, "just really, really condescending."

Could it be that Robbie's aunt is in fact my mother? Mum might have forgotten to tell me, preoccupied as she always is about the cost of employing a spendthrift servant. In her day, Maria's weekly wages would have lasted for an entire year, and the hussie would've had no need of a change of clothes.

To be honest, I'm chuffed at the thought of the Chirpie Chappy as a cousin. The sound of "Angels" sung from the staircase during our weekly game of Scrabble would certainly cheer things up.