I read recently that Stuart Hill had declared independence for the island of Forvik.

You may remember Stuart. He was dubbed ‘Captain Calamity’ by some, following his disastrous attempt to circumnavigate the UK in little more than a rowing boat with a windsurf sail attached. You think I’m joking? I’m not.

His latest venture is an attempt to draw attention to the fact that he believes his island (and the rest of the Shetland Islands) should be a Crown dependency in the same vein as the Isle of Man.

Good luck with that Stuart, and your scam scheme to sell off 8,000 parcels of land for £60 each (you do the maths).

However, it did get me thinking - wouldn’t it be great to start my own country? So off I went in search helpful pointers on how to set up a micronation.

Four hours later I sat back, bowled over at the wonderful lunacy of micronationals the world over.

For example: did you know that in the 1940s the Principality of Outer Baldonia (population: 70) once declared war on the USSR (population: 170million give or take) following a harsh criticism of the micronation in the state-run Literary Gazette?

Or that Leicester Hemingway, brother of Ernest, established New Atlantis on a raft in the Caribbean? Unfortunately the bell tolled for him - the raft was subsequently destroyed by a hurricane.

And I don’t know even where to begin to describe the colourful history of the Principality of Sealand, one of the more celebrated micronations. Guns, coups and kidnappings - and all on a gun platform not much bigger than a tennis court.

It all sounds like great fun though, so I’m gonna get me a country.

I’ll start by buying an island and declaring my independence:

Then, as King of my new nation I’ll obviously need a suitable castle. Transporting this imposing pile from Italy and rebuilding it shouldn’t pose too many problems:

Finally, I’ll need some kind of navy, to defend against invaders and the tax man. This looks just the job:

Right, I’m off. Please forward all further correspondence to one of my minions. I shall be too busy being King.

Queuing to buy milk for my breakfast the other morning I found myself scanning the headlines and spotted a number of stories bemoaning the plans for fortnightly rubbish collections (again).

Treading my way home between the piles of festering rubbish and black sacks torn to shreds by seagulls I started to wonder why my mouth-and-no-trousers council seem to be doing such a bad job of waste and recycling collections and found myself starting to agree with the likes of Doretta Cocks and her Campaign for Weekly Waste Collection www.weeklywaste.com…

If councils switch to fortnightly weekly collections surely we will all be wading through waste!  No? Well consider this.

Two years ago my old home town of Bristol collected waste once a week and recycling once a fortnight.

The council then decided that it would like Bristol to become the ‘green capital of the UK’ and one of its first moves was to reduce the frequency of waste collections.

Madness, I hear you say.  Surely that means rotting food hanging round for two weeks?  Flies, rats and even more seagulls?

But here’s the clever part: They increased the frequency of the recycling collections to once every week.

They also increased the range of recyclables, so that the weekly kerbside collection now includes aluminium foil and containers, clothes and blankets, shoes, batteries (even car batteries) and engine oil - and they’re even talking about collecting lightbulbs.

But, the key to the scheme’s success is that the weekly recycling collection also takes organic waste, from your kitchen and your garden.

You get a separate ‘caddy’ that you keep in your kitchen and that fits almost anywhere (it’s about the size of a medium kitchen bin).  The council then uses this waste to create compost for use in parks and gardens all over the city.

So, good news all round.  Recycling rates are up, landfill rates are down, the organic waste that people worry encourages vermin is still collected weekly and you get a nice green glow.

Here in Brighton I can buy my electricity from Scottish Power and my gas from South Wales Electricity – why can’t I buy my council waste services from Bristol City Council?!

“Most [TV] programmes appear to be fronted by presenters with no grasp of or interest in serious property issues and most formats do not allow room for serious discussion preferring instead to focus on aesthetics rather than anything more meaningful…

“We Brits are endlessly fascinated by property. But surely I can’t be the only one who is a bit tired of house hunting or makeover-style shows. As the ‘froth’ comes off the market, surely it’s about time it came off TV property shows too?”

Ginetta Vedricka, freelance property journalist, writing recently in the Hacked Off column which appears on the headlineproperty.co.uk website, the specialist online resource for property journalists.

Do you agree? What “serious property issues” would you like to see covered?

Acoustic cloaking? Sonic crystals? Have I unwittingly staggered across some new age musical therapy? The kind that involves mantras and chakras, auras and a heavy dose of unreserved middle class self-indulgence?

Actually no, these techie terms bear no reference to spiritually inspired incantations per se, but they could one day protect your home – and your eardrums - from the impact of thumping baselines, jangling guitars, and any other outside aural annoyances …drills, 747s, rumbling trucks, mating foxes masquerading as bawling babies (believe me, it happens)…

So how’s that then?

The term “acoustic cloaking” is the action of diverting sound waves around an object. The sonic crystals are a man-made material that will do said cloaking, and Dr Torrent and Dr Sanchez-Dehesa are the two Spanish boffins who have figured out just how to make it all work.

Following some “very encouraging” tests it would appear that all you need is 200 or so layers of the stuff and waves of sound will part around you like the Red Sea did for Moses.

Obviously, it’s not all that straightforward and there’s a long way to go before these sonic crystals are tested, re-tested, patented and packaged into a mass-market goldmine, but the potential for such sound-proofing material is enormous.

I’m thinking, never again will drum n bass invade my peaceful domain at 3am from the converted flat above.

The military, however, are thinking more along the lines of stealth warships than noisy neighbours. Go figure.

“If we find out that our neighbours, or households similar to ours, are using half as much energy as we are, then we’re much more likely to bring our own consumption down in line.

“So I can announce today that a Conservative Government will make sure every gas and electricity bill contains information that allows each household to compare their energy consumption with other households.”

David Cameron, in a speech yesterday to mark the launch of the Tories Blue/Green Charter, thinks neighbourly pressure is the way to encourage energy efficiency.

Not so sure I agree, Dave.

Energy consumption is, one would imagine, related to how energy efficient the house is.

If the Joneses earn more than the Smiths and can retrofit their Victorian semi with snazzy solar panels, mohair insulation, triple-glazing, and all manner of energy-saving gizmos, does that make them eco saints? Or just better consumers of green technology?

What About EPCs?

And where does this leave Energy Performance Certificates? EPCs, a mandatory requirement for all property sales, provide people with lots of information about their homes.

But EPCs also fail to deliver because most people don’t act on the information – well, would you, if it meant frittering savings on a house you were about to sell? Money you’re unlikely to recoup in the sale?

Encouraging consumers to do their eco bit is all well and good, but I can’t help feeling that you’ll only get people to make their homes more energy efficient if you combine the big sustainably-sourced stick with the juicy chemical-free carrot.

And that means mandatory regulations, such as EPCs, and economic incentives … such as grants, stamp duty rebates, a reduction in VAT on the implementation of energy efficiency measures …

The Cameroonians have no plans to scrap EPCs - but if they want to make them work, it will take more than information about our neighbours’ gas bills.

What say ye? Let me know…

“I have met quite a few architects around the world over the years, and few appear to be dog lovers … Perhaps it’s because dogs are messy and chaotic creatures, while architects are generally tidy and ordered?

“Le Corbusier had a dog during his purist phase. It was called Pinceau, or “paintbrush” in English.

“When Pinceau died, Corbu had the creature skinned, using its pelt to cover his favourite copy of Don Quixote….”

The excellent Jonathan Glancey over at BD: The Architects’ Website reveals that Le Corbusier was, err, barking, and wonders whether modernism’s inability to live with man’s best friend is “a measure of its joylessness”.

But the two don’t have to be at odds. If you’re determined that your dog doesn’t clash with your clean-lined decor, we think Wowbow’s designs (pic above) may be preferable to more drastic measures (like taxidermy … or buying a cat).

Depending on how eco-friendly you really are, the following information could have you nodding your head in resigned agreement or furiously head-butting your swanky new flat screen.

It appears that the self-proclaimed Protectors of the Great British Bin Collection (The Daily Telegraph and Daily Mail) have caught a glimpse of a top-secret report by DEFRA that threatens to charge us more (!) for collecting less rubbish, less often, and if we live in a new home – possibly not at all.

Naturally, The Mail and The Telegraph see this as an outrage, unthinkable, and surely political suicide for any party wishing to avoid being consigned to the dustbin of history themselves etc etc. And yet, unnaturally, I find myself in surprised agreement with my right-honourable newspaper pals.

So let’s look at the nitty-gritty of this, shall we?

While the enticingly titled report “Household Waste Prevention Policy” may be a hefty tome, weighing in at 412 pages, details are rather sketchy, and certainly nothing is set in stone - or some other biodegradable composite – at this stage.

Nevertheless, it’s hard to look forward to the prospect of less frequent bin collections, even if this is “the most direct way to compel householders to reduce their waste”.

Having lived in the seagull infested city that is Brighton for many waste-filled years, I can tell you how much we all look forward to the one day of the week when we can free our streets of bird-scavenged bins and generally enjoy a clear pavement for a couple hours.

Would less frequent collections really translate to less rubbish? I slyly suspect, and this is harking back to hazy memories of my student days, that rather than throwing out less rubbish we would just end up becoming engulfed by it (or is that just me?).

More alarming than fewer collections is the grim possibility of a £466 annual bin charge - apparently council tax doesn’t necessarily cover the regular emptying of your household rubbish.

But of all recommendations, it’s new home buyers that might be left with the biggest bin gag, by having a capped amount that would limit how much they can throw away.

It just all sounds too mad to be true. Which sadly means that it probably is.

Internationally famous tycoon Donald Trump and his equally famous side-parting descended upon Scotland this week for an inquiry into his plans to build the ‘world’s greatest golf course’ north of Aberdeen.

Of course, Scotland is widely regarded as being the home of golf but it turns out it’s also the ancestral home of Mr Trump, his mother having been born on the Isle of Lewis.

So maybe that’s the motivation for his proposals to open a £1-billion complex in the north east of Scotland, which, let’s face it, is a wee bit less glamorous and a whole lot colder than the locations of his other upmarket courses which include Los Angeles, Florida and The Grenadines.

But even a super-wealthy tycoon with scarily coiffured locks and a bona fide Scottish connection doesn’t automatically get his own way. Thank goodness.

Because it turns out that the proposed setting for Trump’s Caledonian scheme is slap bang in the middle of a Site of Special Scientific Interest, namely the wildly dramatic Balmedie Dunes.

And, naturally, it’s not just a low level golf course that would be being constructed on top of them.

Oh no, in true American ‘the bigger the better’ fashion, the billionaire intends to create a luxury hotel, over a thousand holiday homes and apartments, and – just because – a second golf course.

Admittedly, the project is likely to boost the area’s tourism which is not to be sniffed at; but at what cost to the surrounding environment? I suspect if Mother Trump were still here today, she’d be talking a bit of Scottish sense into her son.

Not content with heating Buckingham Palace with Geothermal energy Mrs Windsor has bought oneself a jolly big windmill, aka a 7.5 Megawatt Wind Turbine.

And not one to do things by halves she’s bought THE BIGGEST WIND TURBINE IN THE WORLD! Go Liz, go!

Appropriately enough, it’s called ‘Britannia’ and will be situated in the sea off Britain somewhere, so once again (drumroll please) Britannia will rule the waves!

The cynical amongst us may see this as just a further example of the Crown’s canny investment in future power.

Because you can’t just wake up one morning and plonk your own windfarm offshore. Oh no! You gots to talk to da Queen first.

All the offshore windfarms in the UK are there by grace of HRH, via the Crown Estate. From the Crown Estate Website:

“The Energy Act 2004 created a ‘Renewable Energy Zone’ (REZ) on the UK continental shelf out to 200nm and rights to licence the generation of renewable energy in the REZ were vested in The Crown Estate.” (My italics).

I’m guessing those licenses don’t come cheap. It’s good to be the Queen!

Not content with inspiring Woody Allen’s best film while still in my mother’s womb, it has recently been brought to my attention that there now exists a remarkable shopping trolley chair bearing my name.

The Annie Chair, as can be seen below, takes the unlikely combo of utilitarianism and kitsch to absurdly delightful new heights with its terrific reclining posture and funky floral prints.

The only thing that’s missing is the original madcap wheels, which spoils half the fun if you ask me - but obviously nobody did.

Oh, and before you join the checkout queue over at reestore bear in mind the £650 price tag - not for the faint-hearted or Asda shopper.

In fact, it’s almost enough to make you want to buy your own blowtorch and go foraging in your local canal. Almost.