Went over to Bradford to pick up almost a tonne of stone fireplace which nicely filled my tonne-weight double axel trailer. All I needed to do was to hook it up to my 103,000 mile VW Golf family hatchback and, in an effort to avoid the steepest hills, tow the whole lot through various housing estates with numerous speed bumps and double-parked cars. I watched as the average fuel consumption plummeted from a respectable eco-standard 65mpg to a planet-melting 15mpg as we (I had two kids in pyjamas stuffed in the back just in case I broke down somewhere really inconvenient) lurched along, expecting the tow bar to shear off at any moment. More than once the load shifted, causing damage at one point to the mantelpiece (but I don’t think it will be seen). After enduring a nerve-wracking spell on the northbound A1 I am home at last, and frazzled.

Mimi is the living proof that ignorance is indeed bliss as this picture, taken barely fifteen minutes ago, goes to show.

Equipped with not such a great camera, our eldest boy has never taken a bad picture of his little sister and I know why that is.

Almost there! The red tube is a cavity filler and the white marks are where the final pieces of cellular insulation go. Scaffold should start coming down in a week or two once it’s tiled, painted and the guttering has gone up.

I expected to feel uncomfortable watching tonight’s Question Time, and I did, but not for the reasons I thought I would. In the end the show succumbed  to all the media hooha and the slimy and odious Nick Griffin was put on trial as the usual programme format was abandoned. Just because it’s a one issue political party why do we have to be served up a one issue show? It resulted in pre-prepared monologues and hysteria and was little better than blood sport. A far more imaginative approach would have been to stick to the tried and tested format, exploring a range of current issues and cross-party policies. Then the BNP’s unsuitability for government would truly have been exposed because they have no other policies. Instead JD lead the team to play on the BNP’s home ground and it felt more like a draw than the rout it could have been.

Question. Where can you find the following three items, all within two feet of each other: a) Blue Zeus male performance enhancer  pills, b) ribbed condoms to ‘enhance the experience’ and c) a rubber ring/ sexual aid which goes over a man’s you- know-what?

Answer. In Tesco’s men’s toilets.

Come on Sir Terry Leahy, get your act together. When it comes to protecting children from seeing this sort of stuff, every little helps.

Ever since my parents bought a Caribbean Buccaneer back in the nineteen seventies, caravan names have fascinated me. The closest our swashbuckling family ever got to the high seas was Sutton-on-Sea, just as well really since caravans wouldn’t be most people’s sea-going vehicle of choice.  Then again, did a Sprite ever overtake anything else on the road on four wheels, tractors included. And if Sprite owners weren’t burning rubber, what of Firestorm owners?  I’ve long given up any hope of finding, amidst the Pioneers, Conquerors Cyclones and Jetstreams, a name that portrays, even half-accurately, what life in a caravan is really like.

Anyway, the point of this? Is a second fascination, with car names. Where do you start with car names? Well, those people who name caravans could learn a thing or two from Honda with their understated Civic, Prelude and Accord. Honda’s jolly Japanese brothers at Nissan prefer the Cherry, Sunny and Bluebird. Vauxhall’s look like caravans which probably explains the origins of Cavalier, Magnum and Astra. Meanwhile the testosterone was really flowing at Chrysler with names such as Avenger and Hunter really showing those sissies at Reliant with their Kittens and Robins. I could go on and on; I said there was a point and there is…  what does a car name say about the owner? Has the name of a car ever put you off buying it? I’d feel as uneasy driving a Mitsubishi Charisma as I would a Ford Intellect, not that Ford make an Intellect model. I’m rambling but… the point of all of this is, today I saw a Mitsubishi Charisma towing a Compass Connoisseur caravan. With an amazing conjoined combo like that it would be easy to imagine the owner being supremely self-satisfied but, in point of fact, he looked quite unassuming and pleasant.

I’m still rambling. It was a momentous moment, like seeing a total eclipse I expect and, unless I see a Jensen Interceptor pulling a Sprite Musketeer, one that will never be bettered.

A French Health Ministry hotline/ helpline is advising citizens to avoid social contact if at all possible which means none of that cheek kissing carry on. I can’t say that I’m too sorry. As a socially inept person myself, I find the whole ordeal of greeting less socially inept people quite traumatic. Do you go for the left cheek or the right cheek first? Do you do both? Do you do both and then another one for good measure? Do you keep going until the other person stops or your lips are too chapped to continue? Do you make it a mean peck or a generous smacker? How much suction do you apply? What if you go to kiss them and they turn away? Do you actually kiss their cheek or just make the noise and pretend you’re kissing their cheek? What if you make too much noise and sound ridiculous?

Apres la pluie le beau temps as Babel Fish might say.

Here we go again. X-Factor begins its 343 week formula-driven run tomorrow night and we shall be glued to the TV marveling  at humanity in all its delusional, unbalanced, ambitious, hopeful and  talented glory. Whatever you feel about X-Factor, there can be no doubting that it is the most punishing audition in show-business and the eventual winner will be deserving of every good thing that comes their way.

This shot would look quite atmospheric if it wasn’t for the blasted dummy! This is Mimi’s first album shoot. . . for the inside sleeve.

Do they have albums and inside sleeves these days?

Back from our Cornwall jollies.  As usual I have more photos of the clan than I do the county but, hey ho. . .

Above, flags over Penzance promenade. Below, Mimi in a Penzance park.

Below, Benny Boo on a body board…

And Jack hitting the waves with a plastic cricket bat, to little effect

And those incomparable Isles of Scilly