'Nother Solent

Nothing. (As my mother used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, say nothing.")

Apart from the fact that I can't find my staple gun

, I seem to be having a particularly productive, busy and happy time at the moment. Which is one reason why I'm finding it hard to blog. My supplies of rancour, bile, disdain and fury are running low - not even preening teenage demonstrators can get my teeth gnashing like they used to. (Poor little chicks, so many fewer little friends along to play than they were promised.) Whither blogging, if this lasts, eh? And whither my staple gun?

Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah. How unbelievably ghastly. The latest government plan for saving the education system is for every child to go to summer camp courtesy of the taxpayer. A pilot scheme was successful and so they are all convinced that a burst of wholesome exercise and outdoor living will send the young lads and lasses home flushed and happy for some reason other than the usual Ecstasy tablet / successful shoplifting expedition / fornication.

So we're back to ten mile runs and outdoor living, eh? What's the betting that next year's miracle cure is the long-neglected educational virtue of cold showers.

These poor deluded innoncents never seem to figure out that experimental pilot schemes frequently succeed because they are pilot schemes; i.e. new and not offered to everybody. Remember Home-School Contracts? When some head teacher first thought up that wheeze it probably did work well. Gosh, thought the kids and the parents, a contract, we better take this seriously. But once every child in the country gets one in his school bag at at the end of the first day back it becomes just another bit of paper to sign.

(Incidentally, aren't the lyrics to Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah dire? You really need to do the voice for it to work.)

"France vows to fight hate crime" - after the firebombing of a Jewish school. Can I resist saying, "About time too"? No.

I must apologise to my readers

for a disgraceful lapse in the post below. To my embarrassment I neglected to include the ritual mention of female superiority. Not once in the entire post did I mention something I can do better than my husband. I really don't know how I came to make such a dreadful mistake. Please do be assured, male readers, that using only the merest smidgeon of my mighty physical and mental powers I could boil your puny male carcasses into their component atoms. Thank you.