Bags of Bother In Bogota

[Last night, at the beginning of Greenwich Mean Time, our clocks went back by one hour] 

GMT arrived noisily on Sunday morning. 

The clock on the front of our bedroom phone had reached 2.21 am, which meant it was 3.21 am in my head. I had been so looking forward to an extra hour of sleep, but the loud ringing of the phone had other ideas. 

Woken with a start, Jo grabbed the handset from its cradle. A deep intake of breath, then: “Rocca – oh no”. 

Rocca is the eldest of my three daughters. On Saturday night she was supposed to be arriving in Bogota, capital of Colombia.

Plants Prefer Geordie - It's Official

If Cheryl Cole ever gives up singing, she could certainly become a gardener. So too, if they fall from TV favour, could Ant and Dec. 

I don’t know if our local heroes realise they have the power to make plants grow, but a gentleman from Essex called Chris Bonnett does. He owns a garden centre in Chelmsford and has just announced the result of a very important, if not entirely scientific, experiment.

Ouch!

One of the great levellers between kings and commoners, between millionaires and mortals, is the dentist’s drill. The mere sound of one can cause brave men to crumble into cowards. We all encounter it at some time; in my case, we’re old acquaintances. 

Last week a piece of tooth came away when it encountered an obstacle in a cheese sandwich. I carried the fragment around in my wallet for three days, hoping the dentist could somehow cement it back into its home at the back of my mouth. 

“Gross!” was Jo’s horrified comment when I showed it to her over breakfast. Americans see teeth differently to us.