There was hope that 0870 numbers were going to disappear with a wave of a consumer knight's magic wand: I am talking watchdogs and regulators here.

We now have a consumer survey (date for submission is today) to see whether we, the overpaying telephone users would like to have 0871 numbers instead. They are dressed up to look a bit more attractive than their departing relative. However, they can be used and abused in exactly the same ways and restore the use of premium rate telephone calls, albeit a slightly different expense band from 0900 premium rate numbers, without necessarily having to be regulated in any way whatsoever. This is because these numbers have an 0871 prefix that would not attract any formal policing under the terms of remit of the regulating bodies. This is an obvious flaw in the proposals, it is one that supports business and continues to leave the long-suffering consumer to be fleeced.

The www.SAYNOTO0870.com site has all the details - they're a bit complex, but as usual the site is helpful and it has a response guide to advise you through the form. You can obtain links to the online survey form from this site, which can be sent in online, presumably, till midnight tonight.

Not so long ago, I was a hard working student, living the pressures and the stresses and strains of time limits, word limits, sweating out my thoughts to make, what I hoped, would be quality presentations that would get me decent grades.

The nearest academic library to me is 200 miles away and takes as long to get to as it did to arrive in Edinburgh. Apart from studying and creating assignments, there was the necessity to travel a 600 miles round trip to get to the University of Edinburgh campus when I had to get to lectures and to the university libraries to obtain the materials I needed. It was a total energy-draining performance.

Light relief was sometimes to be found in the Edinburgh Law Library; it is a brilliant place for anthropological observation. This is where I discovered the existence of Ya's (pronounced Yah's) male and female, I watched them gravitate towards one another, the men/boys with smart 'tailored' hair styles, wearing trendy casual gear and soft shoes; the women/girls with carefully applied make up, in fashionable bright tops, trousers or short-ish skirts and soft gathered primary coloured, leather footwear. They invariably stood in the middle of the walkway, parading like peacocks, ya-ing in a communication code of their own. Some got caught up in the book shelf aisles appearing to seek knowledge in the printed form. It was a good opportunity to show off physical form and shape. They were first year students, I decided.

Some young people at other tables who were meant to be researching a group topic, looked like sixth formers who'd been delivered to the library from the same school establishment and placed out of context. There was not much resulting from group effort there. Like their Ya counterparts, they were obvioulsy newbies.

The numbers of mature students were notable, mostly younger than me, nevertheless they were obviously mature. There were also the very studious overseas students. I expected these two groups to be equipped with the latest technology to help them in their abstractions of information. The main pieces of modern equipment they used were a biro pen or a pencil and an A4 notepad. Their studious intent was palpable. They mostly sat by themselves or in pairs, across from one another. They were very quiet.

In another corner were the experienced young students. You could tell they'd been around a while. there was no need to posture, their only posturing, if that's what it was, was to get on with their studies. They had assignment creation style; many books strewn across desk surfaces and their own laptops in front of them at which these students tapped out their analyses of all relevant passages they obtained from fusty tomes, many of which were on short-term loan, likely to have been timed in hours rather than days. In this way, money was saved on the cost of photocopying.

At various break times, elevenses and lunch, the laptops would be closed and packed up under the arm. Cables and books would be left as a visual sign that the work space was taken. These were hardworking students, who took short breaks, attended lectures in-between times, then returned to their labours with the same intensity and professionalism I had seen earlier. With these role models, it was highly likely that those who couldn't hack it - a minority - would be filtered out, and those that could, would stay the course, in turn becoming the hard working role models for the future generation of new students.

Cats are remarkable creatures - they know where they want to have a home, until for some reason they fall out of love with it and think they can do better. My friend's cat was in the latter category.

From her description, it sounded like cat felt a bit of an appendage; he got fed and watered, as did the dog, (who is used to cats), but cat probably felt he was not fussed over as much as the larger 4-pawed householder. Of course, you have to take into account that cat likes being out at night, except when it is wet and cold and that there's no cat flap. There are plenty of dry barns around the house, but they aren't the same as warm room space in the inn when it's wanted.

Cat went off and was posted missing for a week. As this is a fairly compact village, a bit of asking around revealed that a neighbour several miles across a couple of fields had taken in a cat of similar description to the one being sought and had fussed over it with plenty of treats and lavish attention.

The prodigal cat was returned home, grounded and given previously unkown levels of attention including being allowed to sleep in the master and mistress' bedroom, at the end of the bed no less. I can tell you, out of all the cats and dogs that this family have had over the years, this cat broke the mould and was the first to enter the domestic hallowed domains of the night.

I watched, fascinated, for sometime, as each sheet of A4 lined paper was transformed into a simple spreadsheet. The sheet was turned on its side and large folds were made to create columns. The margin line provided underlining for headings, such as, Guests, First Course, Main Course, Crockery and Cutlery. The next sheet took headings like, Accessories, House Shopping, Clothing and Gifts.

I was sitting in an aisle seat on a plane, with the creator of these spreadsheets a couple of rows in front of me to my left. This exercise had obviously been done many, many times before; she had a plastic file containing completed sheets on her lap. The woman swiftly wrote her thoughts down with a pencil, and every now and then another column heading would appear in a column space on the right. She rapidly jotted down her ideas under each new heading, then returned to previously worked on columns. I did not see her do any correcting or rubbing out.

Could this be, I wondered, one of my blog friends, who recently explained to me how she worked with lists. Her description of her A4 paper lists and the creation of the hand written spreadsheets I saw on my flight, were uncannily alike.

At an interview in Glasgow that my daughter had to attend for a language scholarship, she was asked what Scottish tradition she might like to introduce to the French (this is the ambassadorial facet). Guess what she wants to do - she wants to create a Burns supper. Following the interview I received a phone call.

"Mum" followed by a question mark inflection in her voice;
"can I take a haggis or two into France?"

Me - "No you can't because it's meat and meat, cooked or raw, is no longer allowed to travel with visitors."

Daughter - "Oh."

Me - "You can get tinned Haggis you know."

Daughter - "Can you?" great excitement and relief palpable.

Me - " Oh yes, I can assure you, Haggis comes in tins. Your grandmother bought one as a gift for someone about 30 plus years ago and sent it to her in East London. It moved in to Essex with her and your father ate it about two years ago."

Daughter - "You can send me some tins to France then" (note the plural).

Me - "Tins are very heavy, the parcels will cost a fortune."

Daughter - "It doesn't matter." You could sense the shrug of the shoulders, after all who will pay the postage, us of course.

Me - " You do realize don't you, your main problem dear, will be finding a genuine Scotsman with a proper dress kilt, in Southern France, who will be able to give the traditional address to the Haggis?"

We're definitely not sending over one of those.

Many years ago I read my then fiancée's credit card small print, by outdoor Summer night light, at about 11pm. Tonight, the night of the Summer Solstice (21st June 2007) which is the longest day, there is a thick fog probably a sea haar, obscuring the vista. It is light but as you would expect with such conditions, it is not bright. It would be difficult to read any small print by natural light, tonight.

It can be lovely here at this time of year when there is a clear view and some of the warmth associated with a late evening sun. One thing is sure, while there is a fog lying, there is no breeze, which at times like these would be most welcome.

A blackbird has been visiting our front garden. It has one leg and falls over when it lands, wobbles round on to its tummy and starts pecking about for food. I wonder if it keeps its one good leg tucked under a wing while while it's foraging in the ground.

It is likely to be undisturbed by predators in our front garden. Even our local black and white domestic marauding hunter cat, keeps to the back gardens of all the houses, so the blackbird is picking a fairly safe landing and feeding stage, away from at least one possible predator.

There is some slightly longer grass around the edges of the front garden where there is a wall and it would seem possible for the bird to lean its weight against it and crane forward like a bird would usually do. Maybe the bird's balance is so far off kilter that the modus operandi it has adopted, of pushing around on its tummy, is the best method for it.

Saturday the 16th June started out warm and pleasant though there were signs of oppressive clouds lurking. Just as I was crossing Westminster Bridge, the heavens opened with torrential rain and the first of a Tornadoes formation roared past, then another. My umbrella was hardly sufficient for the deluge that relentlessy pursued us, and like many, I was absolutely soaked. The world and his/her visitors, holidaymakers crammed for a bit of shelter under a walkway.

There were more roars. As I peered out from the walkway I saw two more Tornado formations in the sky, flying across the London eye, over the Thames, onward over Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament; this time they were acommpanying larger planes in the display. Another roar and a trail of red and white smoke was released by the last formation of war planes in the sky. Only then did I realize I had just witnessed the fly-past of The Red Arrows Formation Team.

Watering the pot plants every other day in a friend's garden, then watering plant beds, has been a pleasant experience. I had quite forgotten how different town gardening is from the exposed, windy acreages that surround me at home. Gardening at home became a challenge, it was a job to be done and not one from which I could gently enjoy the undertaking, nor later, lazily enjoy the fruits of my labour. I've lost interest and am content if it all looks tidy.

My friend's garden has very manageable proportions and is surrounded by walls, two tall ones and a shorter one adjacent to a church in its own more expansive grounds. The lawn is as big as an average room carpet. If the accommodation were a penthouse, this garden would fit a good sized balcony or allotted roof space.

Having given the shrubs, climbing things and flowering arrangements a drink, I decided that tonight was the night I should water the lawn. As I swayed the hose head from side-to-side, ensuring as I did that all fading patches got an extra dousing, I was reminded of carpet cleaning, except that watering this lawn required much less effort. It was difficult to tell if I missed any greenery.

It was pleasantly mild, humidity levels were less evident and I really enjoyed this easy kind of gardening. Tomorrow, I shall see perky flowers, and growing plants. Stalks and leaves will be lively and pert. Yes, I shall be able to take pleasure from the task and if I want to, I will be able to sit in garden chair, able to comfotably gaze on the flora and, I can enjoy a cool drink or two. I might even be decadent, put my feet up, listen to the radio and dip into a book.

I heard this week that some aviation enthusiasts are wanting to restore a Concorde plane to original glory and fly it again. That would be a lovely event. This is one plane I loved to see in flight, elgantly sailing above me. The design of this sky bird was such that it always seemed to be politely saluting its audience while enjoining with the other fliers of the skies.

This was one design and engineering project that was a genuine concorde between nations, (the U.K and France) and I do believe The Concorde was equally beloved. It's demise was a sad affair.

I hope the enthusiasts succeed in their wish. I also hope that flights will be approved and be accessible to people who have not had the opportunity to experience this plane. I should like to see this plane,and it's developmental history become a role model for future generations of aeronautical experts and enthusiasts alike.

Camden Market and Camden Lock in north west London are tremendously crowded places, they always were and in 2007 on a hot June day, it is still so. The differences between twenty-thirty years ago and today are the cultural developments, the styles of marketing and the range of noises at varying decibel levels.

Once Camden Lock was a small antique and curio market where many budding antique dealers plied their trade and gained experience. Today, it it is a place bustling with many world style food outlets, bijoux stalls, not many original designs and one or two artisanale leather work booths. I found there were still a couple of working silversmiths in Camden Lock. Zips of various colours and lengths that formed purses and bags were on sale, these were really fascinating and I wondered what playful mind had thought up that idea. Last but not least, I found one great tea shop with real home-baking.

The tea brewing jug fascinated me. The container looked just like a cafetiere. I ordered a herbal iced tea and watched the brew in its 'jug' placed on top of a large glass filled with ice cubes. Pressure was applied and the brew was released from the base of the container and it flowed over the ice below. I guess there must be a valve that opens when downward pressure is applied. What a clever design. This was one of the most interesting impressions of my day.

I am perturbed at the number of lonely dogs I come across. The animals are probably the friendliest and most loyal characters, but they are driven to distraction by being left alone at least five days a week. Their reactions to this human selfishness will vary but dogs all have one thing in common, they are not weekend pets, just as they are not toys for Christmas.