I WAS thinking the other day, about all the playthings we used to make as kids.

We didn't have all the hi-tech gadgets of today, and enjoyed setting to, making our own amusements, which would keep us quiet for hours.

We would create such things as flat wagons, peg dolls, scrapbooks, buck and stick.

Dad made a cot for my dolls, and lovingly produced forts and garages for the lads.

He even made some trenches complete with barbed wire and broken soldiers, lying as though killed, to go with the forts.

In later years when I came across them they made me sad, as I thought of the horror he must have gone through in WW1 as a boy soldier.' Me, I had a toy scrubbing board, dolly tub, and three-legged posser do you think my mum was trying to tell me something?

It's very difficult now to give anyone a treat, they all have so much.

Things that we thought special are now just part of everyday life, so somehow along the way the thrill of anticipation has been lost.

A pity really.

Can't see one kid asking another to stump me' when an apple is being eaten do you?

Years ago, I kept getting rude phone calls, so we installed a personal attack button and I had completely forgotten all about it until Monday morning, when Donald, the handiest man I know, accidentally set it off doing a bit of joinery.

As it makes no noise we were astounded when suddenly the police appeared at the door; their response was instantaneous, but very reassuring.

That evening I was meeting the lovely ladies of Huncoat Methodist School, which must be the country's best kept secret, for I got completely lost. But it was a good night when I eventually got there.

On Wednesday, lots of us boarded a train bound for Glasgow to raise money for the NSPCC and have a day out. There was a "Full English" breakfast on the way up, plenty of chatter, a clever magician, four hours shopping on Argyle Street, a three-course gourmet meal with wine and all the accoutrements, and home just in time for The Bill.' We raised £2,000 for the children, so all in all, not a bad day eh?

Saturday night I went to Holcombe Hunt Ball at the Dunkenhalgh very traditional! Lots of gents in red coats. They are called pinks after Mr Pink the tailor who first made them.

We ladies, of course, dressed up to the nines so everyone was looking good, behaving splendidly and having a great time.

Over the years I have bought small cushions with sayings on them.

Now I'm a bit tired of them and they will have to go, apart from one which has embroidered on it, If you can't say anything nice about anybody, then come and sit by me'. Don't know why, but it always makes me smile.

Till next week