I think someone tried to steal the works video camera off me last week. I say 'think' because I'm not entirely sure. It was all a bit strange. I was in Newcastle city centre standing under Grey's Monument filming a rally by striking teachers when I was confronted by a tracksuited man covered in scabs (the skin type) who said: "Ere mate, can a borrow ya camera?"

I admit I was rather taken back with the request and can only presume it was for this reason that instead of rudely telling him where to go, I replied: "No thanks".

The man said no more and walked away. Looking back, if either of us had been any more polite, we would have been sat in Costa Coffee drinking lattes and pushing the camera back and forth across the table saying things like: "You have it." "No, no I insist, you could sell it and buy a big rock of crack, you have it."

It was the second unnerving incident in as many days. The previous day a St George's Day greetings card dropped on the mat. On their national day the Irish drink gallons of Guinness, on Burns Night Scots drink whisky, recite poetry and dance a reel, but we English apparently now send each other cards. The man slayed a dragon for goodness sake. Can we not celebrate properly as our country's traditions dictate - a toast of strong lager, a kebab and a fight at the taxi rank? Sarah is a no-card kind of girl (the kids are lucky if their birthday cards last the day) and so it went straight on the fire, which was kind of fitting.