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I'm writing this missive on a bench in the sunshine of St James's Park (the London rather than Newcastle one).

Spring seems to have sprung here at least.

I'm here in some ways to get the flavour of a life that at one stage I thought I'd pursue.

I'm going into the to spend a day filming with .

We're trying to find out how anyone can combine being Foreign Secretary with the role as an MP for, in his case, South Shields.

Now when I say I'm getting a taste of an alternate Richard Moss reality, I'd like to make it clear I never had any pretensions to be Foreign Secretary - I know my station.

But I did make an attempt to join the Diplomatic Service in my fey youth.

I think I had Graham Greene-like visions of postings in far flung and sunny parts of the globe.

But it's equally possible that I could have become a Foreign Office mandarin in Whitehall.

Sadly though I wasn't to be entrusted with supervising our relations with overseas nations, principally because I failed the entrance exam intelligence test!

I had particular problems with some rather strange questions about domino patterns which I'm afraid sent my head spinning and sealed my failure.

Of course the Foreign Office's loss was the Ö÷²¥´óÐã's gain I hear you cry.

But I suspect the offices I'm about to gain access to are going to be slightly more impressive than the Ö÷²¥´óÐã's Pink Palace in Newcastle.

Still I'm not sure I was cut out to be diplomatic. I still quite fancy the idea of ambassador's receptions though - minus pyramids of Ferrero Rocher chocs though.

The Moss Week:

Watching: On Expenses. Ö÷²¥´óÐã4's dramatisation of Speaker Michael Martin's battles with US journalist Heather Brooke. Was a decent stab at it although I found it slightly surreal to watch actors playing David Maclean and Stuart Bell.

Reading: Behind the Shades by former England cricket coach Duncan Fletcher.

Studying: Michael Cockerell's recent documentary about the recent history of the Foreign Office. Talking of which I'd better sign off and head there now.

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