I HAVE been in London for a couple of days and with this heat it has been agony. I have come to the conclusion that as a country we definitely ignore the fact that there are extremes in our weather.

The hotel room was like an oven, so I asked "Do you have air conditioning?"

"Oh, if you open the windows it's on and when you close them it's off."

That's very funny when the room temperature is up in the Eighties. When I asked "Could you please send an electric fan to cool the room?" there was a bit of a kafuffle but one did arrive.

Heaven knows what the Americans staying there thought.

But we are just the same in winter -- one very cold snap and we grind to a halt. I think we suffer from a 'Let's pretend its not happening syndrome.'

But for all our faults I still think we are the best country in the world, and the best folk too (am I allowed to say that?).

I WAS kindly given a voucher for a posh shop, Louis Vuitton, so while I was 'in town' as they say, I thought I might as well go in and spend it.

What an eye opener! I'm not on the bread line, but the way that those people were spending, left me gasping.

I thought that they had all caught a bad bout of 'affluenza.'

The quite small shop had for security three very tall, handsome beautifully dressed men, (I must admit it was worth going in if it was only to look at them).

Then there was a 'hostess' very attentive, very concerned, the staff equally smart, all males looking like they were ushers at a wedding.

The customers were not quite as smart, but obviously loaded.

And by the speed and the bulk they were buying you might have thought they were at a jumble sale. But the prices told you otherwise.

Handbags, £900! Shoes averaging around £400, the purses, now they were only £200 each. So I just bought a dozen, as you do, all in different colours of course.

I SEE 'Accy Con' (Accrington Conservative Club) is struggling to find a new role. How I loved going there, running like hell to get the last bus back to Blackburn, dancing to Eddie McGarry and his Band. Oh! They were good.

Come to think of it, I was good, my quick step had to be seen to be believed, and as for my tango to 'Jealousy' well it's still talked about in hushed tones.

AN old acquaintance, Dennis rang me, and we got chatting about the 'chicken run,' that was the name for the way we used to parade on Preston New Road up to the park gates and back.

The girls arm in arm would strut their stuff. Oh yes, there was much tossing of hair and lots of 'Is he looking?' and the lad with that confidence that they only have when with a gang, would call out offers and suggestions that they and we knew had no chance of success.

Hey! They would have run a mile if any had been accepted.

Later, the height of sophistication, it was a hot Vimto in the cafe.

Well it wasn't exactly a cafe, it was a few bent wood chairs in a toffee shop, but we could pretend couldn't we?

Until next week