18th November:

I took an EasyJet flight yesterday (yes, I know, I know) to Glasgow. In my defence, I live closer to Stansted than any other airport and it was for personal rather than work reasons so I had to consider the economics. With about 10 minutes of the flight left, our perma-tanned (a most unnatural mahogany) hostess came round with a large, clear plastic bag. She proffered the bag in the direction of the elderly and rather demure-looking gentleman sitting next to me. "Rubbish?"
"Yes indeed", replied my companion over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "but it was cheap so I shouldn't really complain".
Chic Murray himself would have been proud.

I have a friend called Philip (hello Mr. P!). Philip has a dog. Philip's dog has an unnatural tendency to pass wind in the car whenever Philip drives past a park. This is apparently because the dog sees the park, assumes that walkies are imminent and gets rather excited. I can therefore only assume that Philip either studiously plans each route to avoid the sight of lush verdure or drives everywhere with the windows open.