SIMON Cowell was in the press this week blasting Robbie Williams' and Britney Spears' recent stints in rehab as "self-indulgence".

His pull your self together and stop wallowing in self-pity attitude is typical of his plain talking, black and white views on life and proves the acid-tongue persona he presents on programmes like X Factor is not entirely an act.

I suspect that Britney's on-off visits to rehab and her shocking shaving off of her famous long blonde locks are the actions of someone who is confused and depressed and crying out for help. Making the shift from idolised pop princess and sex symbol to a young mother faced with the selfless responsibility that that brings has clearly not been easy. Some would argue she has post-natal depression that needs to be dealt with. For those who rise so high so young such a reality check must be hard to bear.

It would be unfair to say people like Robbie and Britney choose to spend time in rehab so that they can wear the experience like a badge of honour.

However, I agree with Mr Cowell that these exceptionally privileged people should be given a wake-up call and go and see how people are barely surviving in Third World countries. In fact they need only spend time with the millions of real people in this country who are living on the breadline. It might just shake them out of their self-obsessed, inward-looking shells.

Our 10 years of straight-talking

It dawned on me and my husband this week that we have been living in our house for exactly ten years which I suggested was a fantastic excuse to crack open a bottle of wine and celebrate our achievements.

But as I looked around me I also realised what I have been saying for the last ten years... "It will be great when we get straight!"

I admit that last year we did very well in that we finally replaced all our windows, landscaped the garden and had new drains fitted.

This year finds us decorating again and our hall is piled up with flat-pack furniture, flooring, lamps, rugs, drawer dividers, bins, etc etc, bought on an expedition to our nearest Ikea (in London).

One thing that ten years in this house has taught me is that you live - and learn.

The money-saving trip to Ikea turned into three, petrol-guzzling trips as bargain goods we saw on the website (which you can only buy in person) were repeatedly out of stock. Lesson learned - shop nearer home.

Lesson number two learned is if, like me, you are brave enough, reckless enough and yes, lucky enough to bring four children into the world, be prepared to live with the chaos, calamity and constant upkeep that it brings.

With my children ranging in age from 15 to two I suspect I'll be playing host to grandchildren before the youngest flies the nest and I'll still be hankering for that glorious day when the house is tidy and complete.

Which draws me to the conclusion that that amazing Ninety Minute Work-Over programme - where a team of interior decorators totally transform and yes, tidy, your house whilst you pop out to lunch, must be the biggest piece of fantasy fiction ever to be screened on TV. Yes, I have applied to be a contestant!