Saturday: When does a holiday end? Dancing in the streets in Malaga before boarding the plane home? Watching the sun set over the Mediterranean on the last night? No. It's at the airport, cold and tired, searching desperately for your baggage, surrounded by other similarly tragic figures. If only when you are done with your hols, you could just be back home immediately, with memories of the sun still fresh in your head. Cloudy.

Sunday: People who get on an escalator or a moving walkway and stand absolutely still annoy me something rotten. You are not on a ride, you have not accidently blundered your way into Alton Towers and onto the latest attraction. But still, some stand in the way, chatting, smiling, having a whale of a time, really annoying me. Don't they know they are on the Tube and not supposed to be having a good time? Sunny spells.

Next week: My sister is returning from a summer at an American camp, and she is spreading some scandalous gossip about the children of famous people who go to the camp. So here goes! Which son of a famous comedian was caught after hours with the daughter of another famous comedian, and told to return to the bunk immediately? I'm definitely one for spreading gossip, especially when it is a story about nothing. Sunshine.