Last week, I went on a course run by the Chamber of Commerce. One of those "How to be a successful business person" type things. One of the points made was that if you don't look after your money carefully, no-one else will (except the tax man, bank, insurance people, credit companies ..). To illustrate this mind-boggling point, they used "an urban myth": "A passer-by helps change a tyre on a broken down limousine. The famous millionaire inside the limo thanks him by paying off his mortgage." Apparently this didn't really happen. Oh, no. (Oh, come on, at least pretend to be surprised!).

It was emphasised that wealthy people look after their money - it's how they stay wealthy. Now I don't know about anyone else, but I've long thought this to be a self-evident truth. For example, the public appeals for Children in Need or Famine Relief. I frequently speculate, when Sir Bob Geldoff or Bono, are shouting at the public to donate funds, just what percentage of their own income they hand over. After all, a £20 donation from an Old Age Pension income must equate to a pretty hefty donation from a rock star's fortune, if done on a similar ratio of pounds donated per income earned. (It is also given without any expectation of recognition or reward, but that's another gripe.)

But, today, on one occasion at least, I can give my cynicism a hefty clip around the ear for its impertinence and yell "Yah boo sucks!" at the Chamber of Commerce. Because a wealthy person has just proved us wrong.

Enter the ever-delightful Johnny Depp, who, by one of those strange quirks of coincidence, has appeared in my life three times this week (sadly, only in print form). First I had to warn Dafter off about any attempt to monopolise his attention during the her Golden Globes Award ceremony. Then a picture appeared on the front page of our local paper (an island actress has appeared in Sweeney Todd). But best of all was the story that he has donated £1 million to Great Ormond Street Hospital as a thank-you for saving his daughter's life last March. And not only did he donate money, but he went along on a private visit dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and spent four hours telling bedtime stories to the children.

I love that man. And if he should break down in his limousine near me, I will happily change his tyre for free. All I ask is that he spends four hours reading me a bedtime story.