Much as I hate to admit it I am a baby boomer (where did all those years go Steve!). After the war we were thrown into the world in our millions. Born in the late 40s early 50s we were a generation that was to change the world. Can’t say I had much to do with it unless you count riding a scooter into battle against hundreds of Rockers in Brighton and Hastings, my very cool looking girlfriend riding pillion encouraging us to get stuck in. That or listening to great rhythm and blues on Eel Pie Island where I lived for a while in Twickenham with my Mod mates as we gradually drank ourselves silly. Nah, me, I didn’t do much changing of the world but it was a great time that’s for sure while others were changing it for us! For me it‘s a shame for all those old musicians who are often quoted as saying they can’t remember the 60s because they were too high on some substance or other such thing. Silly twits!

We baby boomers certainly lived strange times - very much a clashing of the old and new. Nothing could be as different as those first crashing chords of My Generation by the heroic Who being played one minute on the radio and the next some sloppy love song called My Secret Love by someone called Kathy Kirby. Both were massive hits at about the same time and they couldn’t have been more different. (Google Kathy she was quite a girl and honest, she was famous). But that’s how those times were, everything was changing and everything was colliding - sort of in with the new but let’s not let go of the past! It was a clash of generations that’s for sure! Now my old man was definitely of the old generation and so for that matter of fact was my mum. We early baby boomers existed in the days when a clip behind the ear by the local copper was the “dun fing” and your Dad would give you a good belting if you stepped out of line (whether I agree with this type of punishment is another thing I am just telling it like it was). I remember my Dad coming home from work and the first thing he said or rather shouted was “where’s my dinner Jean” (Jean is my mum’s name by the way). I have to say when my old man walked in the door you knew the king of the house was home! My Mum would scurry around making sure his dinner was on the table and that he was a happy man. Kids were to be seen and not heard - oh! how I hated those day!. Once dinner was over my old man would retire to his chair and watch some rubbish on TV (that doesn’t include Bonanza which was great). Washing up was left to my mum who delegated it to my brother and me to get done before a meal called supper was served (does that meal still exist in the UK?). How I envied my friend Brian who had a mum who doted on him (he suffered from the Princess Syndrome) and got sent to private school. Hard to think that in those days we all ate at 5-30pm precisely. Here in Argentina you are lucky if you get dinner by 10pm. When I first came to BA I was amazed to be going out to dinner with friends at midnight and find that the restaurants were open. Once we went out at 2am to eat –I ask you 2am! - sorry I digress!

Now I have to admit ,I am not the most tidy person in the world (my friends can vouch for this sorry guys !) I guess every week I got a belting from my old man and a good shouting from my mum to tidy up my thing! Wash up this, clean this, pick up that, I really wasn’t equipped for the old school of do this and do that disciplined tidy up thing. I therefore didn’t dream about having a racy new car or swanky new suit when I was a kid. No, me, I dreamed of having someone pick up behind me and not shout out “hey you little bugger I am fed up with picking up behind you” (my Mum’s most often spoken phrase which was often swiftly followed by a wack behind the ear.)

Now, you may ask what this got to do with the ‘Princess Syndrome’. Well for those of you who have never heard the phrase it means those suffering from not having to do anything. Everything is done for them - just like a princess. A princess has people do absolutely everything for her. Life is grand, her every whim is catered for. She will have no idea how to boil a kettle let alone an egg, iron a shirt, hoover up, and wash up! Well, I am sure you get the picture! Of course, you don’t have to be a princess to suffer from the princess syndrome, you could be famous, be rich, have parents that spoil you rotten or you could live in Argentina! (I will get on to this later). You just need to be in a position where people are prepared to spoil you rotten.

Well, for me it all sounded like a dream when I heard about the Princess Syndrome. I mean if you have an aversion to washing up dishes, ironing, making beds etc etc or any of those other duties that take the fun out of life you will know what I mean!.

Since I wasn’t born with the good fortune of being a prince, famous or rich nor have a mother who was prepared to spoil me rotten I had to settle for a life of doing the chores myself. Don’t get too sorry for me life was and is good and as my friends will tell you I did manage to get away with doing the chores many times. Although I admit to being a bit untidy there would always come a time when I would get round to doing a bit of tidying especially if I had a girlfriend coming round!

So, I went through life trying to dodge the chores (failing miserably) and dreaming of being a victim of the Princess Syndrome. Then hey, I came to Argentina! I have been here for a number of years now and I have to say I think I was definitely suffering from the Princess Syndrome. My upbringing taught me all the basics of life and I leant how to cook, make my bed and on a good day you could even catch me ironing my shirts!Hey, I even changed my baby’s nappies! I know, I know, it was my duty! But when you have an aversion to these things it can be hard sometimes! It seemed to me there was no way I was going to catch the Princess Syndrome unfortunately! However things started to look up on my arrival in Argentina.

The first thing I noticed on arriving here was that in Buenos Aires everyone had a maid - a maid who did everything for you – things looked promising! Not only did the maid do everything but since Argentina had just devalued the currency a year or so before I arrived one could employ a maid for well under a pound per hour! I have to say, things were looking very promising indeed! My first girlfriend here Vero, told me one day that she wanted to cut down on her expenses since work was a bit slow. I said ok how about cutting down on the number of days the maid came – she looked at me with horror in her eyes and asked me if I was joking and if I wasn’t would I just shut up till I could come up with a more sensible suggestion (she was a volatile woman!). It was obvious to me the poor girl was suffering from The Princess Syndrome and didn’t even know it.

The first apartment I purchased here came with a real bonus. I was told that included in the service charges was the maid (well not literally) who came everyday to make the beds, tidy up and do the dishes etc. My own maid! I couldn’t believe it – if they could only see me in Clapham! The first day I moved in I met this woman of my dreams. Her name was Mabel. Now, Mabel was my assigned maid! She worked two hours a day in my apartment!. On her first day she took me to one side and she said that for an extra 15US$ per week I wouldn’t have to do anything! No washing clothes, no ironing no washing up no nothing! She said it would leave me time to work harder on my business. Of course, she didn’t know how much I loved her at this stage and how she could make my dreams come true. A deal was struck very quickly and I made for the sofa. Suddenly I knew what it must be like to be a Prince or even Keith Richards! Life was great Mabel never shouted at me, she never left notes asking me to tidy up or give me a good belting for not doing the house work. At last, for someone like me living in Buenos Aires was a dream come true. Not only could I afford a maid who did everything but also when I needed something I only had to pick up the phone to have something delivered (almost anything can be delivered to your house in BA). Fancy a few bottles of beer, a pack of cigs (I don’t smoke but great if you do) some aspirin, a cup of tea (no kidding you can have a cup of tea delivered to your house). You name it, it can be delivered! I have to say this got a bit out of control even for me. For example, in our office we used to ring the local cafeteria to bring us tea. We couldn’t even be bothered to put the kettle on! No doubt about it, we were truly starting to suffer from the very dangerous Princess Syndrome. As time rolled on there was no stopping me or my colleagues in the office. We would ring for sandwiches, cigarettes or even a box of matches – we started to forget that we had legs or what they were for! The Syndrome had really taken hold of us and things were getting dangerous!

It finally came to a head when I purchased La Margarita. Now, one of the reasons I purchased La Margarita was because I love pottering. I learned the habit some years ago when I purchased a house in the countryside near Malaga in Spain. The house had a bit of land and often needed the odd job doing. I have to admit I am no handy man but I like to think I am!. There is nothing like repairing something that someone was about to throw away and see it being put to good use again. For me pottering in my house in Spain was great. Problem was I came to live in Argentina and it was a long way to go to do some pottering. But then I purchased La Margarita in Argentina. Pottering was in my soul and I could see lots of pottering to be done here. Problem was the Princess Syndrome sort of followed me to the estancia. I remember when I first purchased La Margarita it needed more than pottering to put it right so I hired a team of guys (if you read my other articles for Escape Artist you will have met them) to do the really complicated bits. Pottering was my task and I really looked forward to it each time I arrived on La Margarita. But by the time I arrived on the estancia all the jobs I wanted to do had been done! In conversation with the workers I would mention this and that job I was going to do next time I was on the estancia, and yes, you guessed it, while I was away it would be done!. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my maid spoiling me but pottering is a different thing all together it's not like washing up - it’s a serious business. So after a few weeks I stopped mentioning jobs I was thinking about doing and hey presto I was back in the pottering business – and I have to say I love it.

So there you have it! If you, like me, would like to suffer from the Princess Syndrome get here to Argentina and you are very likely to achieve your goal. I have to say, I am nearly cured now but I have lapses especially when I am on La Margarita. Raquel our chef and housekeeper can be very much like Mabel (who has now sadly retired) and spoil both myself and our guests absolutely rotten.

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