WE’RE all such children.

Many offices are no more grownup than kindergarten – we all want everyone else’s toys. Otherwise we’ll sulk.

So now the Government – like some benevolent fairy godparent – is giving all of us the right to ask for flexible working, previously just the prerogative of parents and carers.

Excellent.

Whatever our family life or lack of it, we all have rights and responsibilities, not always easily categorised, which occasionally claim our time. Or maybe just stuff we want to do.

And when we see other people having concessions not allowed to us, our inner toddler drums its feet on the floor and whines: “Not fair!

I want some too!” Especially when you have to make up other people’s work when they’re not there. Galling.

But flexibility works both ways.

It’s amazing the number of people who demand concessions as a right and yet feel no need to give anything in return. Yes we needed the new law. But more than that, we need goodwill – on both sides. And that’s the tricky bit.

SO now the great clean-up goes on as people try to write Rolf Harris out of history – withdrawing his honours, hiding his paintings. No doubt there’ll soon be a mass bonfire of didgeridoos and recordings of Two Little Boys.

Thus proving it’s an ill wind...

Probably just as well we don’t know too much about the great writers and artists of history and what they got up to in their spare time.

Meanwhile, not just wise after the event, I can honestly say that Rolf Harris and Jimmy Savile always gave me the creeps. As, to a lesser extent, did Stuart Hall. No satisfaction at having my instincts proved right.

But there were two other extremely popular family entertainers who also made me feel very uneasy.

They’re both dead now, but I await the skeletons to come rattling out of the cupboard.

Then there’ll be more clean-ups… LANDLINES are dead, says a new report, as people, especially young, rely on mobiles instead. Not in Middleton Tyas, they don’t.

I always laugh when I read stories of dramatic rescues from wild mountain tops, jungles or the world’s furthest corners where people have rung home for help. While we – just a mile from the A1 – have to run up to Scotch Corner to use the mobile.

And as poisonous little thieves have a habit of sneaking away the phone cables, we even have two landlines.

Just in case.

STILL at Scotch Corner – there are now plans for a big new shopping outlet just off the roundabout.

A daily temptation at the top of the village. Will we ever be able to drive past?

This could be serious.

WHAT is it about thrushes?

We’re lucky to have lots of them in our garden. Our patio is a fast food outlet for thrushes, tap tap tapping at snail shells.

But three times this week I’ve seen fledglings – different ones each time, I think – sitting in various corners of the garden squawking loudly for attention, until harassed mother thrush comes hopping up with a delicious mouthful of slug or snail to keep them quiet.

Many a mother could identify with that.