Norfolk was, well, this is where self censorship rears it’s head, it was family; that can be good and it can be crap but for the sake of peace you don’t dwell…

I’ve been back for some time but am victim of my reclusive side at the moment, the word “drifting” doesn’t come close – I seem happy with a sort of “groundhog day” where I am constantly re-installing the Linux operating system on a range of computers made up from piles of bits, top fun I think you’ll agree but not great conversation!

And the world has changed, my how it’s changed. I thought the problem was the slowly encroaching state increasingly defining what views I should hold as it moved to re-introduce body snatching, sorry, presumed consent (if I ever knock anyone down at a zebra crossing I am happy to assume they consented to it). But what really has amazed me is the value of what little money I have evaporating. What is it that makes people not care when their money disappears except when its property values? The value of the pound has dropped against most other currencies so as we import most of what we consume, especially my toys, that means, for instance, that every hundred pounds I had is now worth about 70 pounds after just a few months. The effect is masked for the moment with over stocked shops desperate to sell before Christmas but come the new year imported good must start to go up in price – and I am now expected to roar down the shops because of a few quid off VAT, er, I don’t think so, I’ll save it as I’ll need to buy heating in January thanks!

Though the truth is, possibly because I don’t have children, I’m really looking forward to the depression. I remember the three day week and rolling power cuts in the seventies, great fun or at least it helped hide the fact I dressed in my Mums fur coat and stack heels, thank God digital cameras didn’t exist then.

The seventies – I wonder whatever happened to Celia…