It's about time councils standardised recycling policies
My father moved up to the bright lights of East Anglia from Hertfordshire a couple of months ago and he is still confused.
This state is not due to his age (he is in his 80s) but the recycling and waste collection rules of his new local council.
After 50 years living in the same town he was pretty au fait with what could and couldn’t be left outside the house on the pre-designated day and time and what had to be taken to the local “tip”.
He knew exactly what went into which large (black or blue) bin, the small green bin and the black rectangular box.
Simples really? Oh no it isn’t. In his naivety he assumed, perhaps understandably, that his new local council would have the same rules as his previous spender of council tax.
Sorry, dad, but you can’t put your glass into a box outside the house – it has to be taken to a bottle bank (either at a local village hall or a council waste site).
And your old newspapers cannot go in the brown bin anymore – that’s basically for potato peelings only.
And your general household waste can’t be put in plastic bags on the pavement – it still has to go into plastic bags but these must be put inside the bin. Now, what colour bin is that?
The whole situation is pretty bonkers. How difficult would it be for the UK, or England at least, to have a joined-up recycling and waste policy?
Then the black bin would be for general household waste, the brown bin for compostable materials and the blue bin for recyclable materials e.g. paper, card, plastics and glass.
I guess there is a reason why West Suffolk Council has a different policy to Breckland and, for that matter, East Herts to North Herts. But could someone please explain it to me?

Time for PedestrianCam? You heard it here first

I have to say that I applaud the latest road safety initiative being introduced in London.

Under the new scheme HGVs caught driving in the capital without safety features to protect cyclists and pedestrians will be fined under a world-first scheme launched by the Mayor of London.

Firms will be hit with £550 penalty tickets from the autumn of next year if their vehicles fail a “direct vision” standard, based on how much the driver can see from the lorry cab.

HGVs are involved in a disproportionately high number of road deaths. They account for just four per cent of the miles travelled by vehicles in London, but 63 per cent of all cyclist deaths and 25 per cent of all pedestrian deaths in the capital between 2015 and 2017.

Operators are required to obtain a free permit from Transport for London which gives vehicles star ratings — from zero to five — according to the amount of safety equipment.

Zero-rated vehicles will be fined from October 26 next year. The rules will get progressively tougher by 2024, when only HGVs rated three stars and above will avoid a fine.

The scheme will apply 24/7 across Greater London. Roadside number plate cameras will detect lorries without a permit.

And cyclists will be encouraged to upload helmet-cam footage.

This is all great but (controversy warning) isn’t it time that cyclists act a bit more responsibly?

I can't wait for the re-birth of Spitting Image!

Only last month SWMBO and I were in the big smoke to see a show. We strolled down Shaftesbury Avenue from Piccadilly Circus before realising the theatre we wanted was on the opposite side of the road.

Being a fairly cautious type, I quickly dismissed the notion of cutting across the road where we were and playing dodgems with the very heavy traffic.

We made our way to a pedestrian crossing just yards away and waited patiently, with some other touristy types, as the cars, vans, buses and bikes sped past through their green, and our red, light.

Then it was our turn. Having been brought up proper, like, we still looked right and left anyway before stepping out.

Which was when a female cyclist went through her red light, oblivious to the people crossing, and narrowly missed me.

As I am a chap of what some may say are generous proportions, that was very, very lucky escape. I’m still not sure how she did miss me.

As I shouted a greeting (?) at her quickly disappearing rear wheel I realised she was not simply stupid. She was downright ignorant.

For she was wearing headphones. Probably too busy listening to some upbeat combo to worry about respecting other road users and their safety or even hearing warning honks from other road users.

But I bet she had a helmet cam and was the sort of cyclist always prepared to upload videos of inconsiderate drivers and vehicle-dodging pedestrians putting her in danger.

Maybe it’s time for PedestrianCam. I’m off to the Patent office now.

There will always be some people more equal than others

So, a dozen BBC women are poised to take the corporation to tribunal over equal pay.

This was announced as broadcaster Samira Ahmed launched a case for £500,000 in back pay.
She is arguing that as a presenter of Newswatch she was doing an equivalent job to Jeremy Vine when he was presenter of Points of View.
But she was paid £440 per episode while Vine received up to £3,000 per show.
Apparently the programmes have similar formats, airing viewers’ concerns about BBC content and interviews with the executives responsible.
The BBC said that the roles were not equal because Points of View has a long history as a popular entertainment programme, and Vine is a household name.
Samira Ahmed is the first BBC presenter to take her equal pay claim all the way to tribunal in a movement that began when the corporation was compelled to publish details of its gender pay gap in 2017, sparking a revolt by women employees.
I know this may not be a popular view but why should Ahmed be paid the same as Vine?
There are pay variances in all professions and it is virtually impossible to compare, say, an editor of one weekly newspaper with another in a different part of the country.
Surely geography, general pay rates, experience plus many other factors have to be taken into account?
My take on the current BBC issues is quite simple – lower the ridiculously high salaries of the highest earners and then begin a thorough investigation about pay equality.
For Jeremy Vine to receive £3,000 a show is, to me, bonkers. For Samira Ahmed to receive £400 a show seems mean and cheap in comparison.
But surely Vine has more perceived “value” as a presenter and much more experience so he should earn more? End of?

What has the EU ever done for us?

SWMBO and I are just back from a wonderful week in Budapest. And you thought I didn’t get much?

It is a great city, full of history, great restaurants and MARVELLOUS coffee shops.

And, in common with many great European cities, getting round is stress free.

In particular because Hungary offers all EU citizens over the age of 65 FREE public transport.

Spot the safety issue this Daily Mail ad for a dash-cam

My friend OB and I had both reached that milestone earlier this year so had five full days of free mooching about on buses, trams, metro and even the water bus that runs up and down the Danube.

SWMBO joined us on the free transport ticket a couple of days into the holiday so only Mrs OB had to pay whilst we were in that city.

So, what has the EU ever done for us? Apart from this example plus the EHIC medical card, decent compensation for flight delays, mobile roaming (where your home deal applies in any EU state) etc.

Answers on a postcard, please.

A translation service for pretentious coffee shops

As you know, I don’t get out much but I do frequent the odd coffee shop, either with my befriending friend Sidney on our weekly get-togethers or with SWMBO on special occasions.
If, like me, you get a tad confused by the drinks menu on offer, I offer my translations.
Black coffee – Americano
White coffee – flat white
Frothy coffee – Cappuccino
Milky coffee – Latte
Choccy coffee – mocha
Not coffee – tea
Call me old-fashioned but all I want is a coffee – sometimes with milk.
Mentioning Sidney gives me the opportunity to give my reader some good news, for a change.
Sidney was notified earlier this year that his benefits were to be cut by almost a third.
Naturally this upset him somewhat and our weekly get-togethers focussed on this subject for some months.
I suggested he might consider an appeal against the decision as I am firmly in the “if you don’t try, you definitely want get” camp, believing that these decisions are made in the full knowledge that people affected generally moan a bit and then accept matters.
He spoke with his sister and an appeal went in. It was initially turned down so Sidney and sister took the case to tribunal.The hearing was last month – and Sidney won, with his benefits reinstated.
I wonder how many people less fortunate than us are having an even bigger struggle just to live becaiuse they did not appeal?

BBC – cut salaries to subsidise some free TV licences

Oh my, what a furore over the BBC’s plan to scrap the Brucie Bonus of free TV licences for the over 75s in June next year.

My take on this is simple - if you can afford it, pay it, no matter what your age.

After all, the £154.50 annual fee works out at £12.88 a month. That’s three pints of beer, a packet of cigarettes or a takeaway pizza a month.

Undoubtedly those less well off in society should get the licence for free.

But how does one decide what “less well off” means?

Well, a good starting point is maintaining the free licence for those claiming pension credits.

Did I really write that out loud? Me, agreeing with something the Government’s proposing?

This saga might well prove to be the catalyst for the BBC to do something about the salaries it pays its so-called “top talent”.

Based on the Corporation’s own figures, the top 74 earners were paid a total of almost £20,000,000 a year in 2018 – an average of around £270,000.

Top of the pile, as has been well-documented, is Match of the Day presenter Gary Lineker on £1.75 million. At the bottom are 28 people on AT LEAST £150,000 pa. This list includes Adrian Chiles, Clare Balding, Mary Berry and Trevor Nelson.

That sum equals 129,000 annual TV licences. I realise that figure is a tiny proportion of the

4.6 million or so households that contain someone aged over 75 who receives a free TV licence at present but wouldn’t cutting these frankly ridiculous salaries be a good starting point?

Answers on a postcard, please.

The end of society as we know it?
As a middle-aged person (ahem) I am fully aware that society moves on and what was considered OK 40 years ago is not acceptable nowadays.
But the seemingly ever growing PC brigade worries me sometimes.
Why are there so many snowflakes out there who seem to want to jump on free speech, comedy, whatever, at every opportunity.
The reason for my rant is the following: “I keep randomly shouting out broccoli and cauliflower. Think I might have florets.”
That was Olaf Falafel’s “Best Joke” winner at the Edinburgh Festival - and very funny it is, too.
But it upset the Tourette syndrome charity, which criticised it and the teller.
There’s no place for many ‘isms today but the minute we lose the right to offend, society is dead.

Left dazed and confused by a bank - again

I am confused. Nothing new there, my family and friend would say. The reason for this latest setback is Barclays. It, along with other high street banks, has spent years persuading its customers to ditch paper statements through the post and switch to electronic, online monthly missives.

I was quite happy about this – until last month when we had to send a bank statement as a form of verification.

I printed off a statement from online and sent it off with the other requested paperwork. In response Barclays said it was not acceptable and we needed an “original” statement.

Our main bank was happy to supply this on request but it did leave me wondering about some forms of “modern” technology and how it is implemented.

Thank you, Lionesses, for restoring some faith in foottie

Now that the dust has settled on the FIFA Women’s World Cup in France two months ago I have had time to reflect on the tournament.

I have to admit I did not see many of the games but did catch the England matches. I wasn’t particularly excited about the fare I was about to witness but, at the end of the day, it was magical.

The skill levels were way above my expectations. I’d seen a few women’s international years ago and they weren’t great. Boy has the game moved on.

The sportsmanship (apart from a few exceptions, like Cameroon) was exceptional. No nastiness, no rolling around for ages clutching a (not) broken leg and no talking back to officials.

It really did make a pleasant change from the histrionics and often downright nasty behaviour of their male counterparts.

Thank you, Lionesses, for restoring some faith in our beautiful game.

Finally, a word about some television programmes. Why is it that when characters are seen looking at their mobile phones etc. all we get to see is a fairly limited close-up?

How on earth do they expect us middle-aged (!) viewers to read what is on the mobile, computer screen, whatever?

Especially galling is the fact that the image stays on screen for a couple of nano-seconds. Am I the only one who has crawled along the floor to read what’s on the TV screen only to find the programme has moved on?

Portman Road car park - easy in, frustrating out

As my reader may have spotted from my ramblings over the last few years, I am not adverse to the odd concert.

My musical tastes are still firmly rooted in the 1970s, however.

Hence my sheer excitement on hearing that Sir Rod Stewart was to perform at Portman Road in Ipswich.

Within a few minutes our tickets were secured via a well-known booking site.

Then the big day arrived - Friday, June 7. SWMBO and I drove into Ipswich and parked in the large NCP car park directly outside Portman Road.

This was thoroughly trouble and stress-free and so we wandered round to the East of England Coop Stand to meet up with some friends. Well, I say friends – brother-in-law and sister-in-law actually.

Some hours later we found ourselves back at the car having enjoyed an incredibly smooth and well-presented concert.

Which was when the fun (not) started.

Over the years I have found one of life’s imponderables to be the following – why do car parks at large gatherings, be they music concerts, football matches or race days at Newmarket, have loads of people on hand when you arrive but no-one available to help when you leave?

Late evening June 7 this year was like a Suffolk version of Wacky Races but without the cartoon characters.

I won’t bore my reader with intricate, or even intimate, details of the events that unfolded but suffice to say it took almost an hour and a half to get out of the car park. When we did eventually escape, and I use that term intentionally, the car park for Portman Road itself there was one woman, an ITFC employee, standing in the middle of the road directing cars.

Why can’t ITFC, who presumably made a few quid out of the concert, look after its customers at all times?

I can only imagine that this scenario is played out at every ITFC home match. It was the same at the old Wembley Stadium. My brother-in-law and I were England Members for most of the 1990s and saw nearly every home game during that decade.

And it was the same old story after the final whistle had blown. Chaos in the cark park outside.

After the first couple of occasions we learnt our lesson and had a simple, but tasty, solution.

We would stay seated in the stadium until it emptied, then wander out to the food stalls on the concourse who, by now, were keen to get rid of the last few burgers, sausages etc.

So it was four burgers in a bun for the price of one, a half-price coffee and a relaxed wait for the car park, and North Circular, to quieten down.

Simples.

Dad's Army town council says "we're all doomed"

Thetford town council voted last month to spend more than £1,500 on insurance.

Nothing unusual about that statement, you would think.

But the cover is against a terrorist attack on one of its events.

Now I do not have any insight into the UK security services' risk assessment of the Norfolk town being targeted but I doubt the threat is very high.

Currently, if there is a terrorist incident in the town the government would not pay to repair the buildings or compensate families affected.

With the insurance, the risk of a terrorist threat is calculated and cover would be provided. An undisclosed company quoted the council a cost of £1,558.26 to cover the £12m in assets including various medieval buildings owned by the council.

Town clerk Tina Cunnell said the insurance is needed due to the amount of large-scale events.

She said: "As a town we have some large events and if we had a terror incident the government would not give any money to help with repairs.

"The financial committee agreed that they believed it would be good. It was a majority vote to take on the additional insurance."

One Thetford resident summed it up nicely: “There’s more chance of being kicked to death by butterflies.”
PS - my reader may wonder about the Dad's Army reference. Well, the iconic 1970s TV programme was filmed in the town and surrounding countryside. There's a bronze of Capt. Mainwaring sitting on a bench in the town (right) and a Dad's Army Museum at nearby Bressingham.

Remember - you're NOT Sir Bradley Wiggins

It was a warm, Spring afternoon as I drove to our neighbouring village to buy a newspaper.

The roads round my way are fairly narrow and twisty so you need to keep your wits about you.

I have to admit I was doing a bit of head-banging as I meandered along, the mighty Quo blasting out of the radio. Which was when I came across the Peloton. I say Peloton because I’ve seen the Tour de France on the TV and I recognise one when I see one.

Admittedly it was a small Peloton, made up of just six Lycra-clad cyclists, but it was spread across the whole road as I negotiated a bend.

I braked – they just carried on, swarming around me like giant wasps. One cyclist even banged on the side of my car as he went by.

Now I was always brought up to share – my sweets, my cigarettes, my drinks etc. And even the roads. But what makes a man (for it usually is a member of the male gender) think they own the road when on a bicycle?

I think it’s great that people participate in sporting activities but some need a lesson in manners.

So, if you take to the roads of Suffolk on two wheels, particularly at the weekend, please show some respect to car drivers, who, after all, have to have compulsory insurance.

And please remember you are NOT Sir Bradley Wiggins and there is, as far as I know, no official Tour de Stanton.

Thank you.

All hail the new official pensioner – or not

I am happy to report that a couple of months ago I reached the age where I can now get something back from HM Government after years of helping fill the national coffers.

Yes, my dear reader, I reached the official pensionable age of 65. Yes, that’s right. 65.

Unfortunately I won’t be eligible for my state pension until October this year, six months after my birthday. SWMBO, who reaches the milestone this autumn, will have to wait another 12 months until her state pension comes through.

Are we upset? No, not really, as we were fortunate enough to be able to save a bit over the years and plan for our dotage. So, another six months or a year wait will be tough but shouldn’t change our lives too much.

The problem is that everyone is living so much longer. When I started out in newspapers a hundred years ago my first editor retired at 65. He was dead at 67. So he paid into the State for getting on for 50 years and got back two years’ worth of pension.

Nowadays people retiring at 65 can expect to live for another 20 years or so. And you don’t need a degree in Mathematics to work out that is just not sustainable.

As an official pensioner, I relish shopping at Lidl (other low cost supermarkets are available) more than ever.

And as with all food stores, Lidl offer regular special deals.

One particular money-saving deal last week made me do a double take – see the photo (right).

I really think this genetic engineering thingy has taken a step too far.

Now that’s what I call a pension increase

I need to let my reader know that all begging letters will be ignored.

This follows receipt of a letter from HMRC regarding a change of tax coding.

It seems that my former employer has really pushed the boat out with its pension increases for the current tax year.

As you imagine, I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, when the HMRC document showed my annual pension payment (right).

I have redacted some of the important information on the letter, for obvious reasons.

Mainly I don’t want you to know where I live.

Greetings from the Bahamas. Please don’t tell SWMBO.

The best athletes are not like the rest of us

What a pickle the athletics world has got itself into over the case of South African middle-distance runner Caster Semenya, who has elevated levels of testosterone.

After a decade of storming victories in 800 metre races, including the last Olympics final, the IAAF, the governing body of international athletics, defined athletes like her as having “a difference of sexual development (DSD)” and in 2018 introduced regulations forcing such athletes to reduce their testosterone levels if they wished to compete in certain events.

Unsurprisingly, Semenya challenged this and brought her case to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (Cas), international sport’s highest court.

She lost, with the court ruling that such athletes could be banned unless they took medication to reduce their testosterone levels.

Semenya is hyperandrogenic, meaning she has a much higher level of testosterone than most women.

Most people accept the case for separate male and female categories in sporting events in which physical prowess matters. But should women with naturally elevated levels of testosterone be able to compete in women’s events?

Absolutely they should. Elite sport is an uneven playing field. Always has been.

The best athletes are not like the rest of us.

Did Carl Lewis have a physical advantage over his contemporaries? Of course he did.

Did Usain Bolt have a physical advantage? You betcha.

What must not happen is Semenya being forced to take testosterone-reducing drugs.

How can it be just for one athlete to have to take drugs to reduce her natural advantage but others, who try to get an edge by taking other drugs, are banned. It all seems a little confused to me. Or, put simply, bonkers.

We have gone over to the dark side

You may remember that at the back end of last year I had much fun with my bank and its app for the various Apple products I possessed.

In a nutshell I got a message telling me I have to update the app but whenever I tried to I was informed that my iPad and iPhone operating systems no longer supported the new app.

And as my phone and tablet were quite old, the operating systems could not be updated.

What a magic money-making wheeze that is – make older phones and tabs obsolete within a few years so punters have to regularly upgrade them.

As my bank was not prepared to buy me replacements I was resigned to losing this very useful tool.

Anyway, the situation, you will be pleased to know, has now been resolved. But not in a way I initially thought.

A few weeks after the Apple/ banking app situation, SWMBO’s iPhone died. Dodo doesn’t do it justice.

No problem, I thought. I’ll dig into our pension pot and buy a new iPhone. Err, no. A replacement was going to cost between £600 and £1,000, depending on which gismos and gadgets I wanted.

Which was when I made the momentous decision to take us both over to the other side.

Yes, we have abandoned Apple and moved to Android.

I decided we might as well both switch as my iPhone was also getting on a bit. It also meant we could continue to share contacts and calendars etc.

To cut a long story short I purchased two new sim-free Android phones, a couple of phone cases and some screen protectors for the grand total of £186.

I am pleased to say my banking app works on the new phone, so normal service is resumed.

Clearly these phones have a limited life as well and will need to be replaced at some time in the future but at least the financial pain will be reduced.

No squash but breakdancing in line for Olympics

I love the summer Olympics. Obviously the main sports are great – athletics, swimming etc. – but what makes the Games special are the less popular sports.

At the risk of offending my reader, I refer to activities such as archery and weightlifting.

When else would one sit on the settee, watching such sports?

Now I hear that breakdancing could be included in the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.

Squash campaigned unsuccessfully for inclusion, as did billiards and chess.

I have a suggestion for the International Olympic Committee. If I am listened to we, Team GB, would have a fighting chance of Gold.

Yes, IOC, it’s time to introduce competitive Morris Dancing. You heard it here first.

Should neutrality be a part of gender?

I’m confused. Nothing new there, then.

The era of gender choice, and any other choice for that matter, is now embedded into our lives.

Relaxing in bed this morning, having an extra few minutes of snoozing before I simply HAD to get up, I was shaken out of my slumber by a female voice declaring “I am identifying as an Elf”.

Before family and friends call concerned about the welfare of SWMBO I need to point out that the person uttering those words was American Kimberel Eventide, who refers to herself as an Elven, also known as an Otherkin, a person who “feels more like an elf than human at times.”

She was being interviewed on GMB and explained that being an Elven is “about a way of life and being connected to animals always”.

Kimberel, who wears prosthetic ears, told Piers Morgan and Susanna Reid: “It’s not about the ears, it’s who you are on the inside and how you carry yourself. But ears do make it fun.”

Sorry, Kimberel, but did you find some funny tasting mushrooms in the woods of Middle Earth?

And then there are the children as young as nine who can chose to identify as a boy or girl or even declare themselves to be gender neutral with the full backing of parents.

Which leaves me in something of a quandary. If a nine-year old is mature enough to understand the choice they are making about their gender how is that Shamina Begum, the ISIS girl, did not know what she was doing when she went to Syria aged 15 with two friends?

Just asking.

Is medical i.d. company a Ryanair subsidiary?

Although I am disinclined to divulge my entire medical history I happily share with you the fact that I am allergic to wasp stings. The first couple of times I was stung, over a ten year period, I simply felt a bit odd and the area where the wasp hit the target was swollen.

The third time I was stung, more than 20 years ago, was during a round of golf when I was hacking about in the bushes looking for my ball, as is my want. Thirty minutes later I was in A&E at West Suffolk Hospital.

My GP subsequently prescribed an Epipen, which could prove a life-saver should I be stung in future and anaphylaxis develops.

I take the Epipen everywhere with me (well, I do forget it sometimes) and have a medical wristband to alert people that the stumbling pensioner they see before their eyes is not drunk but has been stung.

These bands don’t last for ever and, with a foreign holiday approaching, I thought it prudent to buy a replacement.

The one I chose from an online specialist was £14.99. Not too bad. But if I wanted it engraved with what I consider to be pretty crucial information such as name, allergy etc. that was an extra £5. And if I wanted it posted to me (doh!) that was another £4.

Meaning my £14.99 band cost £23.99. I purchased it but it did leave me wondering whether the supplier is a Ryanair subsidiary. Hidden costs or what?

Dumped fridge leaves me cold

It is a year since Norfolk residents started paying to leave their DIY waste at the county’s tips.

Although we live in Suffolk, our nearest recycling/waste site is over the border in Norfolk so we visit that. No passport required, by the way.

General “rubbish” can be taken for free but the site charges from £3 per item or 80 litre bag (?) for rubble or timber, £4 per tyre and £5 for flat glass and £9 for plasterboard.

Taken individually, the costs don’t seem too bad. But you will have to have deep pockets if you are having a REAL tidy up at home.

If you want the local council to collect a bulkier item, it charges £32 for up to five items and any additional items are then charged a further £3 each.

All this means that if you have one small fridge the council will charge you £32 to take it away.

Now it may be coincidence but both SWMBO and I have noticed an increase in fly-tipping in our area over the last year. Bags of rubble, cardboard and even the odd fridge dumped in the hedgerows along the minor roads near us.

The bonkers thing about all the fly-tipped material is the fridge. One assumes the owner did not want to pay the £32 it would cost for the council to take it away. One also assumes it was dumped from a car.

Which begs the question – why not drive five or six miles further and dispose of the fridge free of charge at the local “dump”?

Kepa flounce wouldn't have happened in Fergie's day

So, Chelsea goalkeeper Kepa Arrizabalaga has been fined a week's wages for refusing to be substituted during Sunday's Carabao Cup final defeat by Manchester City.

He was clearly suffering from cramp and, with a penalty shootout looming, Chelsea manager Maurizio Sarri quite rightly decided the time was right for a substitution, bringing on penalty-save expert Willy Caballero.

And then the fun started. Kepa refused to leave the field, frantically gesticulating at this manager.

Sarri, reacted with indignation, kicked a few inanimate objects and then stormed off the touchline.

And let Kepa carry on.

"Although there was a misunderstanding, on reflection, I made a big mistake with how I handled the situation," Kepa said in a Chelsea statement.

Sarri also said the incident had been "a misunderstanding," but added: "Kepa realises he made a big mistake in the way he reacted. He has apologised to me, his team-mates and the club. It is up to the club if they want to discipline him according to the club rules, but for me this matter is now closed.”

Now, call me old-fashioned but what on earth has happened here? Since when does the tail wag the dog?

I would love to have seen the same scenario played out with Sam Allardyce or Alex Ferguson as manager – you get the feeling Kepa would now be eating through a straw.

Wonderful week spent in the real, old Dubai

SWMBO and I had a wonderful week in sunny Dubai in January. We last visited in 2014 with some friends and stayed in one of the 27-Star hotels (well, probably 6-Star) on the man-made marvel that is The Palm.

Pure luxury, great staff (if a little over-attentive) lovely pools etc. etc. But we were disappointed. Nothing to do with the hotel but the fact that we could have been staying anywhere in the world that had good hotels, warm weather etc. etc.

We vowed to go back but to stay in one of the “older” hotels in downtown Dubai.

Abras still ply their trade across the Creek in Dubai.

That proved to be the right choice. Our hotel was right on the Creek, which meanders through the old part of the city separating Dubai side from Deira side.Getting about was easy – a cross-creek trip on an Abra (water taxi) cost 1 Dirham per person – that’s about 25 pence. It was about that price when we lived in the city in 1980s so we were pleasantly surprised.

We also visited the gold souk (credit cards not used but plenty of windows shopped!) and the simply wonderful spice souk.

Twenty minutes haggling for six packets of the finest spices brought back many happy memories. Like many tourist traps, traders will always start very high so you, as the customer, must start very low.

You have to ignore the pleas about “I have six children to support” or “I cannot possible sell for so little” and stick to your guns. At the end of the process you have probably paid more than you should have done but you have had some fun and you beat the trader down (a little).

Then there are the general souks, selling everything from material to mattresses and Pashminas to plastic buckets.

These, unfortunately, have changed. We had to walk through one general souk every time we used the Abra on Dubai side and by the end of our stay I was sick and tired of being tapped on the arm and told that I was a “diamond geezer” and being offered various goods that were “lovely jubbly”.

Most disturbing, however, was how they approached female tourists by touching them on the arm and placing a Pashmina over their shoulders.

As many older people would say, it wasn’t like that in our day. And they would never do this with local women or men but obvious tourists are easy prey.

Technology is great but only when it works

SWMBO and I are just back from a fabulous week in the sun. Everything about our adventure was perfect – apart from the DART crossing.

I have had a DART account since it was announced they were stopping you from throwing a handful of cash into the basket at the barrier.

It’s ostensibly a good system, using current technology. Every time you cross the Thames via the bridge into Kent or through the tunnel into Essex, your car registration is read electronically and the fee of £2.50 deducted from the credit card details you supplied when registering.

On our return to deepest Suffolk I checked my DART account – our return journey, from Gatwick Airport, was listed as fee paid. But there was no mention of the outward journey ten days earlier.

Must look into that, I said to myself. Then I forgot.

Until yesterday. In amongst our post was an envelope bearing the legend DART Penalty Notice.

It was for our outward journey almost two weeks ago now.

The notice had two fuzzy, but identifiable, photos of my car, complete with full registration.

So, the cameras picked up the car and its reg but did not register the journey with my account.

I rang DART and was told if I paid then the penalty would be cancelled. They could not work out what had happened but sometimes the cameras did not match registrations with accounts. It could have been foggy (it wasn’t), the plate could have been dirty (it wasn’t, as the notice photos clearly showed) etc. etc.

Anyway, they found my account details (very easily) and £2.50 was taken from my credit card.

Why am I boring you with this? Well, one of the current solutions to the Irish border Brexit conundrum is to use technology to check traffic.

Good luck with that.

You're old when a bed costs same as your first house

I don’t usually take much notice of the marketing material that falls out of the daily paper.

This could be viewed as a terrible admission from someone who in a previous life as an editor encouraged inserts because of the revenue they earned our newspaper group.

Now I find them slightly annoying and often provocative. Do I REALLY need that side-panel bath for ease of access (answers on a postcard please)?

But one recent glossy insert caught my attention. It was a 20-page brochure for a furniture firm.

As I flicked through, my eyes settled on a bed. I have to admit that as beds go it was OK. And, most pleasing, the cost had been reduced. From £16,170 to £14,500. Yes, that’s right- a bed for £14,500.

You realise you’re getting old and wrinkly when a bed costs the same as your first marital home. That’s how much we paid for a lovely little three-bedroomed detached house in the middle of commuter-belt Bishop’s Stortford 40 years ago.

My rant earlier this month about PETA and the village called Wool got a response from my reader.

“I entirely agree,” he said. “Every time I put my sprouts into boiling water I ask myself ‘How can I do this to living vegetables? When I could be cooking meat that is long dead.’”

Controversial but at least someone reads my work. Thank you.