The BBC has been on the receiving end of my wrath in recent weeks. Those commercial breaks – sorry, gaps between programmes – are constantly winding me up.

They are used to plug what's coming on in the days and weeks ahead and, after seeing the same trailer ad infinitum, I no longer have the will to watch the programme when it finally comes on.

For a while recently exhortations to buy digital radios filled the gap. And there was I thinking adverts weren't allowed on publicly-funded channels.

Anyway, with a set-top box you don't need to spend a fortune on a new radio... as I shouted at the screen.

And the latest plug to give my blood pressure a lift is of the red-tracksuited family exhorting us to support Sport Relief. It's a great cause, I'm all in favour of it, but if I see that family and their dog jogging across my screen again...


My determination not to be grumpy has been kicked further into touch by a letter from my bank saying letters are a thing of the past and information will now be sent to my email address or my mobile phone.

If I'm happy with that arrangement I need take no further action. But if I prefer the old-fashioned letter to advise me of interest rate changes and other exciting developments, then I have to phone or text to say so.

Currently the bank has neither my email address nor my mobile phone number, and I haven't phoned or sent a text, so I will have to wait to see if anything arrives via the postman.

It's only my current account, so I guess it's not that important as long as I can continue to get a statement. But I'd feel happier if the branch doors were shut at night.


On Saturday I had to travel to Felixstowe for a match and, given the strength of the wind in the morning as Hamish and I were blown around the footpaths of Alpheton, thought I'd better check to see if the Orwell bridge had been closed. So I switched on the local radio station which, having noticed it was St David's Day, was running a phone-in asking people to complete the phrase "If it wasn't for the Welsh we wouldn't have..."

All the obvious answers were there – Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey, Welsh rarebit, Aled Jones. Someone sent in a text saying "The Tudors" to which the presenter said "Were the Tudors Welsh?"

After a brief stunned silence, shouting at the radio resumed.