Stop The Ideas Carousel!

Friday 13 November

I was on my own in the office today so while I was covering all the desks and phones I had some peace and quiet too. No interruptions during Popmaster and a good gym workout at lunch.

Got home to find Flick had made a Playmobil City including an improvised Recycling Centre. She had written and cut out labels and put them on egg cups representing recycling bins. Seven of them were decorated with labels for Glass, Plastic, Metal, Paper, Cardboard, Compost and, er, Poo!

The Good Lady Wife was out in the evening so as soon as The Flickster was in her bed I wasted no time in flicking between channels and not watching anything in particular. In fact, I wasted a LOT of time doing that. Was a bit miffed to find the Sky box hadn't recorded "A Question of Sport" or "Mastermind". Eventually I went to bed at 10.30 pm because I was annoying myself.

Saturday 14 November

The girls were off to ballet, a fair and Dobbies so Daddy was free to do whatever he wanted. Having already been fed and watered before the girls got up, I was already into my stride with my little chores. I tuned into Sounds of the Sixties, as usual, while writing up the notes for tomorrow's radio show. It'll feature ten tracks by Petula Clark, by way of celebrating her birthday. She's an under appreciated singer and certainly better than Sandie Shaw and Cilla Black, who I do like.

Then I started work on three of my Christmas shows for the radio station. Last year I did four and an extra one where I counted down my own personal Top 30 Christmas songs. This year there will only be three plus the extra one. While working out which songs to bin form last year and which new ones I've discovered, I watched an impressive Huddersfield Town thrash Wycombe Wanderers 6-0. Who says men can't multi-task?

When the league football finished I headed back upstairs to wrap the presents I had already bought for K. While doing that I could watch (through the banister) the Wales-Scotland game. Scotland were awful and the 3-0 half-time score remained the same at full-time. It wasn't just awful, it was embarrassing. Defencer Gary Caldwell, who moves like a fitted wardrobe and turns like the Ark Royal, should never play for Scotland again. He's been consistently bad for a long time. Kenny Miller is another overpaid so-called "professional" who flatters to deceive on a weekly basis. And he's got a head like a potato. He and fellow Hun Kris Boyd, the ugliest footballer in the world EVER, have morphed into the same player and Steven Naismith is going the same way. I reckon the pre-match lunch at Ibrox is deep-fried children. With chips and Diet Coke of course. They are athletes after all.

"The Thick of It" is simply genius and it pains me that so many people I work with have never seen it. They don't know what they're missing.