Now this is more like winter. A sharp frosty morning, gloves required, my trainers crunching on thin ice and feeling very insecure. As if it wasn't cold enough inside, at the job centre was Big R himself. Yes, Big R, the yorkshire brawler who gave me the benefit of his opinions somewhat strongly not that long ago.

Try as hard as I might, I could not help snarling inside. There's something feral about human beings, or at least the male half of them, that doesn't sit easily with humiliation and scorn. On the face of it I might seem a bit childish but I could not hand my paperwork to him first. Instinct, you see. he blew my respect away and no matter how sharp his suit, to me he will always be a pompous scumbag.

What was that he just just called me? Mate? Who's he trying to kid?

Saturday

What happened to Saturday morning? Something is definitely wrong with Saturdays. I know this because I innocently turned on the television for something to occupy my attention while I got on with boring stuff. As a rule Iwouldn't normally bother with television at that time of the day and I think the world has changed since I last bothered. I remember Tom & Jerry cartoons, the Pink Panther Show, low budget family films, and lots of presenters coping badly with exotic animals.

None of that happened. Adverts for dating websites? On every channel there were queues of semi-famous ladies telling us how to make your face to look like Hollywood intended, rather than the hideous reality your magic mirror reveals at dawn. What is going on? Why has the world changed like this? Why is saturday morning devoted to cosmetics? I have to say I have pretty much zero interest in cosmetics. There are products intended for the unfairer sex so I'm told. Body sprays? Fragrance for men? Ugh. I don't think so.

After being fooled by aftershave adverts in the seventies (Remember Hai-Karate and the terrified user fleeing from hordes of aroused nymphomaniacs?. Trust me on this - that does not happen), I don't think smelling like a flower bed is going to improve my chances of being chased by hundreds of blonde female television extras.

Sunday

Sunday rescued my little world. One tv channel showed back to back episodes of Fred Dibnah, the high priest of cloth cap engineering from a bygone age. Time to sit down and be dazzled as plump Fred in his blue boiler suit invited us into his natural enviroment of the railway siding.

Fred - This 'ere is a Nigel two six four wi'double flange frame 'n shovel injected firebox. Ah used to dream o' driving these when I wur young. Used t'see 'em running past me dad's coal shed. This one 'ere is restored t' workin' order. It wur made just as steam finished on British Railways, so it's almost new, this. With a bit o'luck, driver will let me on footplate... Allo thur.... Can ah come up?

Driver - Like you arranged previously, you mean?

Fred - Ahhh yes. Nice this, int it? Bit more complex than steam engine at 'ome. You get a fine idea o'what it wur like in olden days, steaming down track. Can we give it a go?

Driver - Hang on - I wasn't told that we were....

Fred - Reverser... Regulator... Mind owt thur... Brakes off.... (WOOOOOH!... Woooh WOOOH! pffffshhhh clank chuff chuff chuff). Heh heh heh... Sorry 'bout that. Bit jerky on take off int it?

Driver - Ten miles an hour along here Fed.

Fred - Eh? Oh aye. Picks up speed nicely, dunt it? Ah remember good old days when trains like these wur all the rage.

Driver - Mind the speed Fred. We're approaching the buffer stops.

Fred - Nice smooth ride this. Must have been a thrill back when these engines ran on British Rail main lines, 'cos back then see engine drivers had no cab for protection.

Driver - Fred, you want to start slowing down!

Fred - Exposed to elements they were....

Driver - FRED! BRAAAAAAKE!

Fred - Oh aye... That'll be that lever thur... (Clunk Squeeeeeeeeeeal hisssss). There we go. Enjoyed that ah did... You all right thur? Gone all pale like... Grand engine.is this.

Bless the old chap, he's no longer with us, but what that man could do with a nine and five sixteenths wrench, a box of dynamite, and a few lumps of coal demonsrates how the British Empire was forged and ultimately rusted away. Singlehanded he almost made brass bands fashionable. Sadly missed.

Stargazing - Live!

A program devoted to standing out in the freezing cold staring up at the night sky? I nearly fell off my seat laughing. Surely if you want to stargaze you switch the tellly off and walk outside? Still, at least couch potatoes can now study the heavens too.