Had a few 'issues' on the bus this morning. First off, I was diddled out of 15p by the bus driver. Foreign fella, obviously sending the money back home for his uncle's eye operation. But I let it go, I toddled off to my seat feeling awkward and tried to tot up where things had gone wrong in our exchange of ticket and cash.......I thought the asians were supposed to be good at maths.

Anyway, at a stop further along the road a boy got on who gets on everyday. He was late and ran for the bus and got on puffed out. I knew how he felt as I was running a little behind myself this morning. Long story but it involved getting shampoo in my eye. It stung to buggery - Lord knows what it must have done to the rabbit. Anyway, the boy was scrambling around in his pocket and a look fell across his face of sheer horror and panic. He hadn't enough change and looked to the driver for some sign of generosity. None came, horrible little man. I rose up from my seat and walked towards him, how much do you need? I asked. The boy was deeply grateful, I did my little bit of altruism for the day and everyone on the bus was happy - except the nasty bus driver. May his uncle go blind.

I travelled back in time this morning - only briefly and come to think of it, in my own imagination - but none the less I was transported back to the late Victorian era.

I was forcing down reheated porridge (the ladyfriend makes a batch in the morning, leaves earlier than me and I eat the remaining later) and watching the breakfast news. The first item was regarding the rubbish our schoolchildren eat, well I thought, "it's like the Victorian days when they used to eat gruel, I may as well be watching the news in 1895". Moira moved on and told me that a prison somewhere was over run with mice and pigeons! My eyebrow lifted and I had to check that indeed I was sitting comfortably and it was 2005. THEN if I was not shaken enough, I was told about JM Barrie's novel Peter Pan. Goodness me. I was searching for the smelling salts when the travel news came on and guess what? The roads were thick with fog - a pea souper!

Ofcourse I hadn't really gone back in time, that was clear when it dawned on me that I had to face a day of work, I'm quite sure I would have stayed at home in the Victorian period. I'd have got on with a spot of needlepoint and eaten sponge cakes.

What a fabulous weekend at the seaside. On Friday I needed some fish, the supermarket had no sea bream so the ladyfriend and I thought we'd try the fish stall on the beach. It was amazing. I felt like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as I rummaged around in delight at the huge selection of sea bounty before me. It was very reasonably priced aswell. Packed with locals which is always a good sign. A slightly retarded looking man scaled and gutted my fish as we kept a watchful eye over our car which we had not put a ticket on - 1.20 for one hour, I ask you! I intend to return and taste more of their catch.

I also had my hair cut in Eastbourne, very cheap but I look a bit like an extra from Schindler's List as it's a bit shorter than perhaps I would have liked. Still, I'm quids in.

I feel a bit bad. There was a message on the answer machine from a lass who wanted to do a hairdressing course at the college. We often get these messages and phone calls because people don't put the area code in before calling. I listened as she said 'can you call me back to confirm a place, blah, blah' I deleted the message.

It struck me this morning that this naughty blunder of mine might affect the rest of this persons life. By me not taking the time to call her back and explain her mistake I might be responsible for her not learning to be a hairdresser. Instead of her learning the ways of the cut and blow dry, she may give up and take a job in a bookies. She may rub shoulders with the wrong kind of people. Fall in love with a cheeky rogue who promises to 'treat her right' only a few years down the line this all goes by the by when the 2.45 at Cheltenham doesn't pan out as planned.

She may be beaten but stays with him because she loves him and she's used to the luxury of his occasional wealth, thrilled herself by the excitement of the dog track and all the attractions it brings. She may end up addicted to trannies which help her sleep and to steady her nerves. Living in the flat above the bookies opposite a hair salon which, if the BBC's Cutting It is anything to go by, she could have ended up owning. All because of me.

I've just had a lovely lump of simnel cake. It was lovely. It was the first time I have ever had it. Rachel and Barrie, two very nice ladies at work, have been baking cakes and selling slices for something to do with the Tsunami appeal every wednesday. It's been very successful, I've gorged myself like Augustus Gloop.

Eager to take part in tradition I plumped for the Simnel cake this morning because of its Easter connections. I was not dissapointed and wolfed down my marzipan apostle with glee and not the slightest hesitation. I am very pleased to see there is still some left for later.....well it is for the disaster struck orphans.

I must say I am growing rather weary of this public transport lark. In my day when you caught a bus everyone else in the queue kept schtum. I've been accosted three times in as many bus trips!

Yesterday I caught the bus one stop behind the usual as I wanted to withdraw some smackers from the mini tesco on the village green. Green, that's a laugh, it's like Piccadily Circus in the rush hour. I sat on the bench which was kindly donated by someone no longer with us and inhaled dangerous levels of carbon monoxide. People came and went, parked in the spot designated and painted in bright yellow for buses only (I shall never do this again) which caused me untold stress. In the end I had to stand in the road so the bus, when it finally arrived, could see me! After all that I was charged fifty pence more than I would have done had I gone to my normal stop of choice - a distance of less than an eigth of a mile.

This morning I wore my magnolia coloured corduroy trousers to work. It was raining when I left so I took an umbrella. They are now splattered with road filth around the ankles, I've somehow dropped chocolate rather too close to the private parts area and I and my trousers look rather unsavoury. All because of public transport.

I've done something a bit nasty to my back. I'm not in the first flush of youth and I embarked on some vigorous hoovering yesterday. The next time I do it, which won't be soon, I shall do some limbering up before I set off around Axminster.

Had a nifty weekend. My Super Stepdad saw an offer at Staples which was advertised in the Daily Mail. It was a computer with a DVD rewriter thingy for 199 quid! What a bargain. I got up on Saturday and set orrrfff for Staples clutching a page of the newspaper.......or so I thought.

When I got there I headed straight for the PC bit but couldn't see the offer on display. I dug into my pocket to pull out the newspaper clipping but discovered to my horror that I had grabbed the wrong page and a middle aged, middle class woman battling with the menopause yet still finding time to juggle a career in public relations and by the way, this is what I'll be wearing to Ascot, staring back at me!

I went up to a spotty man at the help desk and he laughed at my suggestions. He took me to the cheapest computer which they had and it was far too expensive. Humouring me he ran the barcode through his computer and to my delight, and his horror, it came up at 199 pounds!!! I pulled out my switch card faster than Paula Radcliffe dropping out of a marathon.

Last night the ladyfriend and I popped in to see the Double D's, Dawn and Dave. They are off soon to live on the Costa Del Sol and live it up in the sun. They are leaving Blighty for a life of sunshine and sangria and, if the measure of their gin and tonics are anything to go by, complete inebriation.

What a terrible, tragic evening. Last night I had to go and pick the ladyfriend up from work. It was dark but I suddenly realised that the light coloured blobs on the road were not leaves but frogs. Oh my God, I thought, they are all going to die. Obviously last night was the night when they were programmed to head for the river that runs through my part of the world. Trouble is, it is cut off by three major roads. I tried to drive carefully but on return with the ladyfriend in the car I could see absolute devastation. All over the road were splattered frogs, utter carnage. I tried to guide the car away from the live ones but I saw people behind me oblivious to the poor little things.

When I slowed down so I wouldn't kill one the ladyfriend said 'come on, get a life' I shut my eyes as proceeded along. She said that nature would provide and that it was survival of the fittest etc, but mother nature could not possibly have taken into consideration the motor car.

When we got home I ran in to get an old newspaper so I could scoop up one that I had seen alive but by the time I had got back to it it was no more.

This morning as I walked to the bus stop I lost count of the mutilated bodies of frogs that had tried but failed to get to their breeding grounds, it looked like the Somme - they stood no chance.

It's a long story so I won't bore you with the details but I had to drop the ladyfriend off at work this morning. She starts work at 8am which involved me getting up a bit earlier than I would prefer. I sat bleary eyed in the car at the ungodly hour as we motored along the Buckinghamshire highways. Imagine my delight, I looked over at a river bank and I saw a Kingfisher! I was over joyed. You do indeed have to get up early to catch a worm it seems. My tiredness dissapeared as I saw the riverside royalty. It was much smaller than I imagined.

When I arrived at my own place of toil I spoke about the mornings revelations and a nice lady told me that when we move to our new offices (we are relocating) there is a pair of Kingfishers that can oft be seen there. My bag is packed already.

Went to Tesco last night to do a big shop. The Ladyfriend has begun to keep peculiar hours because of her new job so, in a fit of organisation, I decided to buy food for the week. I had a collosal trolley. It was not out of choice, all the nippy brief shopper trolleys were gone and I was left with a vast skip of a thing. It had a section for flowers, shopping lists, environmental boxes and triplets. It was a bit strenuous on the old back putting my consumables in and out. I had to stand on tippy toe to make sure the eggs were safe.

I had had a bit of good news at work, we had all been given a 300 quid bonus as part of a profit share thing so I pushed the boat out. I picked nice long peppers, rare breed eggs, organic everything, a big corn fed organic chicken, that will do for Thursday's tea I thought. Anyway, happy with my shopping I went up to the shop girls and put my stuff on the conveyor belt. I stood waiting for the lady infront. I looked at her shopping and I felt awful. She had economy blue stripe everything. She didn't look common, just down on her luck a bit. Her hair looked lank and she looked at my shopping and I could tell she was embarrassed about hers. I felt rotten.

She was taking a bit of time putting her stuff back into her purse and the girl on the till fiddled with the plastic bags. "Don't wait for me" said the lady as if she didn't matter. I wanted to whisk her away and treat her to a slap up tea and get her hair done right there and then I was so sad for her. She slipped off into the night with her little blue stripe supper leaving me feeling awful with my lollo rosso.

Back from my week off. I feel like a real person again. I didn't get up to too much during my short break but it did get time to stop and stare. Infact on several occassions I twitched the nets. One of my favourite views was of the next door neighbour who is advanced in years building a bonfire in his back garden. I felt a lovely calm feeling as the flames licked into the sky.

Because of my time off I exposed myself to tv and have become addicted to The Coach Trip on Channel 4 It's brilliant, the people on it are just fabulous, common as a Burberry cap and I love it. My favourite is the northern git who won't eat 'foreign muck' but is trying to make friends with the people. His conversation with an old lady in Munich was priceless.

The ladyfriend and I took a trip to Chichester on Saturday to see Clare Teal who was excellent of course, she was playing in an old warehouse on an industrial estate but it was a full house. Chichester is lovely, we drove down to West Wittering (you have to pay a pound to get in) and I stared across the Solent at the Isle of Wight. A salty tear came to my eye as I longed to walk on the diamond shaped Isle. My one dream in life is to have a modest cottage, aga, labrador and caravan stroke campsite on the Island.......one day.

One hour left of work today and then I am orrff on my holiday. I am about to embark on my first week of annual leave of the year and it hasn't come a moment too soon. I have a kitchen to decorate and I am ready and willing for a spot of DIY.

We had a significant snowfall this morning but it's all gone now. It's just like everything else these days - hurried and instant. People don't want to have something for a long time. Can't wait to cook something for dinner? Chuck a plastic tray of slop in the microwave. We are all on a speeding conveyor belt to a vast landfill site with our wide screen tellies, mobile phones and i-pods going on before.

I've been thinking, I wonder if it would improve life if there was a pocket sized canned laughter machine which you could carry around with you. In certain company (work, supermarkets, restaurants) you could press it. It would fill the room with laughter and improve dull situations.

Had to get the bus today. I should leave the comment there really as I think the gravity of the situation is enough but I shall share with you what happened......

The Ladyfriend took the family car this morning so it was down to public transport for me to get to work. I have not had to use this means of transport for a very long time and I am amazed at just how public it has become.

I was rather late for the timetabled time so I scooted out of the door with very little glamour. I was hoping to waltz down the street with a similar gate to that of Cagney & Lacey in the titles of their hit crime show - no such luck, I looked more like a desperate Nerys Hughes. On reaching the bus stop a rather portly girl was there (wearing slimming black) with rathere severe hair. I thought people weren't supposed to talk on these occasions but she mumbled on about the bus not turning up.

Fifteen minutes had gone by and I was thinking that it was a bit of a rum do when a severely depressed looking housewife came along. She didn't look a stranger to using the bus on a regular basis but I didn't fancy asking her if she knew what time it was due. Her hair was rather long and straw like and her face was worn with too much exposure to ciggies, the stress of a teenage tearaway and Coronation Street.
She had the cough of a coal miner. She stood behind me, doped up to the eyeballs with trannies,breathing with the last remnants of her lung.

The bus arrived, thankfully, I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head and the air of B&H leaching into my clothes. The big girl got on first and the bus driver waved her on, ooh I thought, perhaps we are getting a free ride because of the bus being late. He carried on waving as I got onboard, I walked joyfully to my itchy seat when he shouted "oi!" Oh I was so humiliated, he hadn't meant me to get on for free at all. The fat bird had a bus pass.

I don't know about you but I find youngsters terrifying. If the ladyfriend and I have to venture out to the High Street or - God forbid - the shopping mall of a Saturday my heart beats wildly in my chest. It's not for the love of the latest fashions but through fear. I scuttle by McDonalds with wings on my heels as youths congregate, spit and use colourful language outside. It makes me shudder.

The girls are the worst, and they're so big. I remember be scared stiff of Imelda Davies (pictured) from Grange Hill and I don't recall her packing a blade. I'm not sure if female emancipation was such a good idea. If young women aren't shop lifting, smoking, spitting, having babies or binge drinking they are laying seige to the shopping precints, bullying shoppers and demanding money with menacies. The Two Ronnies certainly were on to something with The Worm That Turned.

No doubt if any of them are brought to justice an ASBO would be worn with pride. If you ask me we should put all these horrible girls in the army and send them off to Iraq. That'll bring peace to the middle east.

It's the Ladyfriend's first day at work today. I dropped her off this morning, she was very anxious. I left her there in the snow with enough bus fare to come home if the people were nasty. I have not heard anything yet so I am assuming all is well.

I've bought myself a new mobile phone. The first time I have ever had a brand new one. I have always thought them rather expensive and have eyed them with suspicion but there was a sale on and I now have a T-mobile c1200. It's nothing fancy I assure you but it does have polyphonic noises which appeal.

It's really confusing though because there are so many buttons and things I've got to do, the book is a nightmare. I need a youngster to help me with it. I'd like to have a nice ringtone, something from the hit parade. I'd cut a dash in the Co-Op with something ritzy blaring from my pocket.

At work each day I get snippets of all manner of tunes eminating from bags, blazers and desks. They're really loud.......actually, it's rather annoying.