Nothing beats an allotment

Brilliant idea. And in an age of drugs and counselling, the plan is literally a breath of fresh air.

Years ago, my allotment was the only thing that kept me sane. I was working in television in Birmingham, working and clubbing so hard that I rarely saw daylight and my eyelashes were permanently stuck together with too little sleep and too much old make-up.

But on weekends, I went back to Oxford and my allotment, squashed between the railway line and the Thames. A couple of hours digging was far better than any work-out in the gym. Fresh air and exercise soon made up for the week's drinking. Seeing green shoots come through made it impossible not to be optimistic And actually eating something I had grown - we had a glut of sweetcorn and tomatoes that first summer - was one of my greatest achievements.

Add to that the common sense conversation of old men called Percy and Albert who smoked pipes, spoke slowly and proffered endless advice and it really got life back on track.

Good luck to Groundwork and its future allotment holders. They deserve to do well. Allotments should be available on the NHS - wouldn't half cut the bills.

Meanwhile, society girl Petrina Khashoggi, illegitimate daughter of Jonathan Aitken, has just checked into a rehabilitation centre at £2,200 a week, claiming exhaustion after too much partying.

Get the girl an allotment - it would do her far more good.

PRINCE Charles is apparently cutting down on his official duties so that he can spend more time with Prince Harry.

Bet Harry's really wild about that.

But it all goes to support my long-held theory that the time you really need maternity/paternity leave is not when your children are babies, but when they are teenagers.

Looking after a baby is pretty easy really. And there are always people happy to take care of them, for love or money.

But teenagers. Now they're the ones who really need watching - day, night and especially when they're just sliding out of the door. And does anyone volunteer for that? Nope.

On the other hand, a house full of teenage hormones and hangovers, sulks and slammed doors, makes going out to work seem more appealing than ever.

SO there I was wandering through Canterbury Cathedral, where Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170, seat of Archbishops for 1500 years, where pilgrims have come for centuries. The atmosphere is rich with history, a sense of prayer and the past.

Then I saw the Newcastle and Sunderland footballers.

Not real live ones, these were very jolly footballers, part of a collage done by children of East Stanley school. Just above it was one done by Hartburn School in Stockton, a tiny Transporter Bridge and a gigantic Riverside Stadium, which sort of shows where their priorities lie.

It was all part of the Children's Tapestry of Hope, an enormous piece of art work with schools all over the country contributing different bits of local and national life.

Gilesgate in Durham featured the castle and the railway bridge, St Augustine's from Darlington had a splendid snakes and ladders game, draughts and a netball court. While Hill View in Sunderland featured yet more red and white footballers and a wonderful Lambton Worm curling himself seven times round Penshaw Hill. Goodness knows what the foreign visitors made of that.

But even while I was there, scores of people from all over the world stopped to look and admire it.

So if you had a stitch in those pieces of work, or were the teacher who somehow pulled it all together, then congratulations. They look wonderful and were definitely worth the effort.

But no wonder the rest of the country thinks that up here we're football daft.

GETTING into Canterbury Cathedral is a bit of a shock - a gateway and a £3.50 entrance fee - just to get into the precincts. The only way out, of course, is through the shop, proving that as well as Christian humility, the cathedral has also mastered the cutting edge of big business.

Of course, it costs a fortune to maintain the cathedral and if most people treat it just as a tourist attraction, then maybe they're right to charge like one. There might even be a separate way in for those who just want to go to a chapel and pray quietly. But if so, it wasn't immediately obvious to those in the queue. Temples and money-changers came inevitably to mind. Still, I couldn't help liking the Archbishop Teddy bears on sale at the shop. They might not do much for the majesty of the church, but I expect they turn a healthy profit. And these days you have to have your priorities right.

WANT to make your self-assessment tax form seem easy-peasy? Then try renewing a passport.

All I wanted to do was extend my son's passport, issued when he was a chubby 12-year-old . Now he's a hulking great 17-year-old. You can extend it for another five years for free - if you can work out the forms.

The forms are probably the most confusing, contradictory and unhelpful that I have ever come across. They are like something out of Alice in Wonderland, but not as entertaining. More akin, perhaps, to those translations straight from Japanese that you get with cheap music centres.

"Everyone says that," said a charming and resigned young man when I rang the help line. "We keep telling our bosses that it's not clear, but they don't do anything."

Well, if they'd like someone to make the forms more easily understood, I would happily do it for them. But that's probably too simple.

To make it worse, all forms are scanned by computers. Any crossings out, amendments or Tippex and they apparently just send it straight back to you.

I have already wasted two forms, will now have to go out and get some more in the hope of finally getting it right.

All this paper, all these unnecessary journeys. Maybe the Passport Office could be prosecuted for damage to the environment.

Happy families

CHILDREN who eat regularly at family meals grow up more confident, happier and less stressed, says a new report. Maybe, but has anyone measured what family meals do for the parents? Or is it just coincidence that about the only time I have a serious drink at home is before the one meal of the week we all eat together.

Published: Wednesday, January 23, 2002