Not as funny as it used to be

Apparently, it's winter, or at least it was once.  Now, we can't just have 'winter': we have to have 'The Beast from the East' (cold weather from Siberia) or 'Snowmageddon' (a bit of snow).  My favourite is 'Thundersnow', a brilliant name for snow with, er, thunder. So, that's cold, wind, snow, gloom. Winter, then. Now, there is no doubt that things have improved for most of us with better information and warnings available - not that anyopne heeds them.  People often have more understanding employers, there are better road clearances and preparations are usually made to deal with extreme weather.  The trains are all up the Swanney but that's normal: a spot of rain stops them on their tracks. What is depressing is how each winter - for that is what it is - gets more and more apocalyptic in tone, with blood-curdling threats issued by weather people and police - DO NOT TRAVEL!  This is generally good advice and things would be signifi

The need to wear a suit after a fair while once again arose this morning so I dutifully unloaded the old stager from the wardrobe and put it on.  I'll be honest, it was a bit of a struggle.  This is odd because all my other very ancient clothes fit fine.  I persevered with the waist hooks (it's a formal trouser thing, ladies) until they snapped into place, leaving me gasping for breath, feeling like I was enacting a period drama and for some reason had been sent to the female costume department for the most 'Keira Knightley' of corsets.  Mercifully, the jacket was a little more forgiving - it seems my neglect of those pecs and abs has paid off - so I ended up suited and booted. I trooped off to meet with people whom I sought to convince that I was the absolute fulcrum around which their operation should turn, we chatted for some time and eventually we all parted as friends. Whether 'friends' will translate into 'colleagues' I could not say but there we

The boy was bemoaning the fact that he can never be a rock star. His mother pointed out gently that, at 16, he still had time. His perfect teen response - shouted in truculent exasperation, naturally: "I can't because you have to start learning to play the guitar at three! You lot decided I should do musical theatre instead!" His mother noted that he never said he wanted to play the guitar, to which the now beetroot-faced boy retorted: "There was no point in my life at which I said I wanted to sing and dance!" He has a point.

Our local radio has started to play 'Always look on the bright side of life' quite regularly. This is very definitely A Good Thing. Hearing it played so often - and joining in with gusto every time, naturally - has made me reflect that it would make a truly brilliant national anthem, replacing the dirge we have. Imagine our Olympians standing on the podium, whistling away with a grin, or our footballers lining up before the start of a match, waiting for the end of some grand South American 'we-are-absolutely-brilliant-and-we-won-a-war-in-1857' anthem, then being able to sing along with Eric Idle in a jolly, self-deprecatory way. Schoolchildren would have no problem at all with the words.  They'd love it!  There's even a tiny sweary bit which they could all giggle over as they didn't sing it. And (with a nod to Billy Connolly, who suggested the Archers' Theme for similar reasons) imagine if you were an immigrant and you became British? Yo