This week, NHS 24 told the UK via national broadcasting media, to drink plenty of fluids but avoid tea, coffee and alcohol. There was a veritable deluge of protest from educated listeners and viewers, a consequence of which, was the wheeling out of experts (at last) in the matter of fluid intake.

1.Tea, (whatever your personal tastes might be) is an ancient well tried remedy and in hotter drier countries than ours, for rehydrating and refreshing individuals.

2.Coffee, in moderation will not do any harm, it will leave the drinker with a residue of fluid that might not otherwise be taken, several hundreds of millilitres in fact. Other liquids such as water should not be neglected.

3.Alcohol will dehydrate. NHS 24 got 1:3 right. If that is not worrying, what is?

And the nation is being told to rely on NHS 24 advice. Help!!!

What a glorious week of weather we have experienced where I live. This evening I decided we would eat al fresco for the very first time during this lovely Summery spell. Guess what, a dirty great black cloud formed as we sat down.

The bread was munched as the slight breeze turned into a more urgent gentle wind. In the distance long rolls of thunder were heard sounding like the drum rolls of a dramatic symphony building up. It got darker. A forkful of salad later, I decided it was time to take in the little bit of washing I had on the line, while it was dry and warm.

High overhead, formations of seagulls flew Westward. The thunder rolls got louder and closer, the sky darkened more. A damp wind rushed in and swirled round us. Plates, dishes and bowls were removed with haste into the house. It was just in time.

When the rain came, it was torrential. The thunder enthusiastically clapped and lightening danced to it, forked and amazing. This was nature's own firework demonstration as only Mother Nature can do it.

Afterwards, the Summery evening skies returned, but with it there were sounds of many emergency sirens. On a hillside on the edge of the town, there was smoke, a lot of smoke. The evening air that was freshened by the rain, is now contaminated by the smell of fire.

Kelvin Mackenzie thrives on being gratuitously offensive in just about every pronouncement he makes. In a discussion today on BBC radio, he referred to the arguments against digital radio services being switched on soon, (preferably now) as being orchestrated by the socialists in Ofcom!

Apart from the fact that digital services are still degraded in very many areas, including localities of London where the BBC has studios, surprise, surprise, and digital services don't exist in large swathes of the United Kingdom, I would like to know what it has to do with anyone's social allegiance.

Technically, digital broadcasting is not yet functionally good enough. The technical experts have to admit to it, so are they also socially excluded from knowledge and intelligence on the matter, according to Mr Mackenzie's definitions.

In the Scottish Borders there has recently been a switch over to digital broadcasting services. What the residents were not told, was that they would not be able to receive all services they were used to with FM.

Mr Mackenzie needs to think - if that's in his behavioural repertoire - before he opens his self-serving mouth, demonstrating his abject ignorance and shallowness of argument.

I'm still waiting for someone to tell me how time signals from Big Ben are going to be adapted, as at present, digitally, they are about twenty seconds slower than the actual time.

I am known to have the occasional flutter on Facebook and now a rare titter on Twitter.

Twitter has produced an array of notifications of followers. Oh dear...... they are not going to be very enthused by me.

I have to concur with one person I know, who rhetorically twitted, "What the hell am I supposed to be doing here; should I care?"

"How should I know what we are doing here: are we lemmings?"

In recent times, the value of social networking sites such as Twitter and Facebook have been inestimable in opening up avenues of information and light on societies different from our own. Perhaps, perversely, caring or not, and being lemmings in these fora, forms a great part in their social value.

This morning, while I sipped a coffee in one of my favourite local coffee places, a disabled woman arrived following on behind a loud spoken husband. Every now and then she felt the need to tell him to 'Shhhhh' down the volume a bit.

They got talking about her new netbook computer. The neighbours kids had tried to set up her internet connection as she has never set fingers, ever, on anything resembling a computer. The CD that came with the router and cables was of no help, because netbooks do not have an integrated optical drive. All the assistance given, thus far, seemed to have complicated matters. Giving the INDIAN helpdesk remote access to the netbook, with the kids following the instructions, had not connected the machine to the internet. The antivirus and firewall software had disappeared and, "The router lights are the wrong colour".

Domiciliary help will be sought from a local computer man to set up the internet - details given by the café proprietress - so she can learn to play with her machine and gain some familiarity with it. All the lady wanted, was to look at bits of the local world that interested her, from home. "The local estate agents and the shopping channels". I offered to visit in the next couple of weeks - I cannot do it sooner - and if still required, give some guidance where it may be wanted.

The lady tried talking to hubby sotto-voce about what we had discussed. However much he tried to lip read her, he could not comprehend; she repeated herself, and each time, a little louder....no use. It was kinder for me to sup up my coffee and make an exit so they could talk at a volume hubby could hear. I did think though, that hubby and wife could benefit from him using a hearing aid or two.

"At last", I thought, when I heard that there was to be a police investigation into some elements of the abuse of parliamentary expenses. My concern is, that will it be too little too late. There have been other high profile heavy dippings into the trough of the public purse, which so far, stay immune from prosecution. I still do not understand why.

It was beginning to appear that those who stand under the roof struts of Westminster, were spray-coated with Teflon from the moment they entered Parliament. It still seems to me, that though the non-stick coating is cracking in places, sufficient of it, is adhering to protect some 'major' figures, who are quietly refunding the public purse in the hope that no further muck will stick to them.

It never ceases to amaze me what kids get attached to and stay with into adulthood. Baby teddy and big teddy are safely wrapped up in the loft. Some other copy Stief style teddy lounges lazily on the bed, what for, I am not sure, it is collecting dust. Now, Miffy, on the other hand, travels the world and can be seen, it has been said, on social networking sites in different capital cities and tourist sites of the world.

The map of the world duvet and pillow cover are hiked out for regular use, even though some of it is now history. Some countries have changed their names. Cities and towns have their linquistic spellings, whereas they were known differently a decade or so ago. These bedcovers clearly illustrate it. Of course, the countries themselves, however much their identities have been updated, doggedly remain in their fixed positions in the global design of things.

Between really heavy downpours, there are ever so bright, ever so short, bright, sunny periods. They shift in to fool us. The bright moments lull us into believing we are about to enjoy some reasonable respite from the heavy grey clouds that convert into the wettest and relentless rainfalls.

I gave up on thinking there might be time to get washing out and dried. I almost gave up on doing washing. My umbrella having been abused by a force eight gust a couple of weeks ago, just about does a fragile job of keeping the worst of the rain off me. Looking at the double spars that have been untwisted, making them look bandy-legged, I don't think the umbrella, which is a fairly new one, is going to be in service of any sort, for much longer.

In deference to the mildness of the day, I wore lightweight clothes and a fleece, and yes..........my trousers were soaked. Balls of rain dropped on and rolled off my fleece. I was wet and damp.

That's one charity shop I won't be donating to, or visiting again in any hurry. They are forever advertising in their window for donations of this that and the other. It will be their loss and another charity shop's gain.

A blouse, with all its new labels was in the section for my size. I attempted to get into it. As I was in a public area, I tried it on as gracefully as possible. It was very much a manufacturer's wrong sizing, the item was a good size and a half smaller than the labels suggested it was.

I thought I would be helpful and let the staff know the garment appeared to be mis-labelled. The assistant took it as personal criticism and was quite aggressive...rude in fact. Best talk to the boss - who is a paid employee - I decided. She wasn't much better, saying that it was a teens garment. Politely, I replied that if it was the size wouldn't be any different. She waffled some more, till I said, " Look, I do buy this make, and this label size usually fits me". Her reply was that they, the charity shop, could only go by the labels.

Some customer care training is required, methinks.

As dull and wet as it was today, I visited some private gardens that were opened for the Scottish Open Gardens scheme. Funds raised go to charities. There were set fees with concessions. If wanted, for a princely sum of £2, I could have afternoon teas with home baking, as much as I could eat, I was told.

The hall was busy with afternoon tea takers. A coach, which arrived when I queued to obtain my garden visits ticket and gardens location map, disgorged another thirty plus people to swell their ranks. The best strategy, I decided, was to head off to the gardens, before the hordes finished their refreshment.

The first stop was Granny's Garden;

Globules of rain water sat on plants and our feet squelched as we walked on the sodden ground.

Just the thing, at the next garden stop, a rocking break.

In another garden I spied an accidental rain water collector.

What a delicate flower, one that was ready to multiply;

Then.......ornamental rhubarb.

This weekend, I received a charming and courteous invitation to join a friends group.

First, I was advised I would be invited.

Second,I was asked if it was not too presumptuous a request;

Third, the request was posted;

Fourth, I accepted;

Fifth, I was thanked.

Now, isn't that lovely. I thought it was such a super experience, I would share it with you all.

Contrition, demonstrating being humble and the excuse of a momentum of [female] group resignations; none of this sat quite right when I heard the interview with a certain politician who has very recently caused a government party upset in flamboyant, arrogant and insensitive manner. My cynicism kicked in.

"She's trying to save her local seat, save face with the local party management and activists" I said. And of course, in later news, I was proved correct on all counts.

Hazel Blears lost touch with just about everything to do with her role as a people's representative, her support structure, and daily reality. Unfortunately, she was not the only politician from the various political camps, to do that. She committed a number of cardinal sins, including an abuse of trust, and taking people for granted. Who in their right mind, publicly waves around a cheque, demonstrating that, late in the day, they are making financial amends for unethical and dishonest behaviour. As if that makes it, and everything else okay. Such arrogance!

Blears' judgement and general capacity, have been found sorely wanting in all directions. Sadly, she is not the only one, there are still politicians in another party who are being protected by their leader, and by a conspiracy of silence from the media. Not only is the media being judge and jury, it is also filtering out of the expenses polemic, those who it will tolerate. Future 'friends' perhaps, and old debts being repaid in kind?

Edinburgh Airport, arriving on a Wednesday night at 10.20..........don't do it. Pick any other day.

Four flights regularly arrive within half an hour on Wednesday evening, nearly 1000 people needing to be filtered through Immigration. There were two tightly packed corrals either side of a small space, with a very large number of tired travellers. The corrals met in the middle. Forty minutes it took, to get through that system. Around and about the walls, there were highly visible notices warning of Swine flu and how to protect oneself. (Given half a chance!)

At 10.20pm, on that evening, on that day of the week, there were only two Immigration officials on duty, and a very brief bit of assistance from a third official, who called through the exceptionally few - about four- non-EU passport holders. We wondered if a third world airport arrival might have been more interesting; likely, it could have been similar.

"Welcome to Edinburgh International Airport".

I have signed and dated so many ruddy forms from this afternoon onwards, I have screwed up the date several times, forgotten part of my signature and started to become mesmerised. That's when it's time to take a break.

I made dinner. Thereafter my art of procrastination was wonderful. It's 9.42pm, I have just forced myself back to the task of autographing seemingly, endless forms. Would I be more motivated if I got paid for every signatory swirl I created. I shall never know.

I'd better get the task finished before the date changes. Doh!