THE cheerful young man at the top of Swaledale was building a dry stone wall. He picked up a stone, seemed to weigh it in his hands, put it down, picked up another and then went back to the first stone, put it in place and grinned at me as I walked past.

“You’ve got to do the job right, haven’t you?” he said, with evident pride in his work.

If only he worked for Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs...

The taxman has got it wrong again. Many of us knew that already and have been hanging on the phone for months to tell him so. And still can’t get through.

David Hartnett, the man in charge, who found taxpayers so taxing, was dismissive of complaints. A few hours later – presumably having had his legs slapped – he said he was very sorry. His apology carried all the sincerity of a sulky toddler’s. I shouted at the radio in disbelief and anger.

But if he, the big white chief, cares to little about the mess we’re all in, why should the people who work for him? Why should they take any pride or care in their work?

Anyone who has any dealings recently with government departments or large corporations knows the impossibility of getting anyone to do anything. Partly it’s because of incompetence. Educational standards are said to be soaring, yet the people who deal with the public are too often incapable of answering simple questions.

And those that do, don’t care. Why should they?

Many aspects of what we still think of as the work of civil servants has been farmed out to agencies and more agencies until it’s dealt with by someone on the minimum wage in a call centre at the other end of the country with no real link to the department involved. They will deal with hundreds of people a day, rarely having the chance to see a question through from beginning to end. And no incentive to do so.

They will have no sense of responsibility towards their customer, no sense of responsibility to their colleagues – who could easily be in Glasgow, Newport or Mumbai – and probably precious little sense of achievement at the end of the day.

It’s a miserable situation for us all.

And no surprise that the end result is chaos and frustration.

The dry stone waller was doing the best job he possibly could – because that’s all that was important. He had responsibility, incentive and pride in his work. As a result those walls will still be there when most of us are long dead and gone.

And still waiting for our correct tax codes...

THE sight of a money-off coupon or special offer can stir the brain in almost the same way as pornography, says new research.

These people need to get out more – and not just to the supermarket.

On the other hand, the next time I hear excited yelps coming from the baked bean aisle, I’ll have whatever she’s having please. Even if it’s only 10p off...

■ RESISTANCE to external influence... tensile strength... multidimensional stability...

(What?) Wow. As I read the product description, I was in awe of its 21st Century cool design.

Definitely cutting edge. And what was it which had such an impressive high-tech spec?

A £10 watch strap...

Just be careful that your watch strap isn’t easily influenced...

Don’t leave it too late

DAVID Cameron has had a battering for a year or so, hurtling between tragedy and triumph. The death of one child, the birth of another, the election and the top job and now the death of his father.

Stop sniping. However much money he may have, it’s hard not to be knocked sideways by that lot.

But David Cameron is rich and lucky in other ways. While his father was still alive, Cameron had clearly told him often how much he loved and admired him. Many of us leave that sort of thing too late and face many years of regrets.

So if you have a dad still alive and think he’s great – now’s the time to tell him. While you can.

Not a job for the kids, Ray

MIDDLESBROUGH mayor Ray Mallon, right, wants children to put pressure on their parents to cut down on their drinking.

While excessive alcohol is certainly not taken seriously enough and lies at the root of many problems, getting children involved as nags is a dangerous game.

Children of heavy drinkers already find themselves tip-toeing around the edges of their parents’ moods, scared to speak or even breathe as they cope with the volatile unpredictability.

In Disneyworld, an innocent wideeyed child might well persuade a drunken parent to change their ways.

In Middlesbrough, such a daring child is more likely to get knocked into the middle of next week.

Travel tip

It was only one night in London, so I’d travelled light. Then Smaller Son spilt almost an entire pint of lager over me and my linen trousers.

He was heartbroken – that pint had cost £4.50.

I squelched up to my hotel room. No other trousers with me. At midnight, nowhere to buy any more.

So I washed them in the bath with the hotel’s shampoo, folded them neatly and put them in the trouser press, turning the trouser press back to the beginning every time I woke up.

The result – at breakfast I had clean, dry trousers without even the faintest whiff of lager. And a beautiful knifeedge crease too.

My mum would have been proud.

Ann’s romantic plans

WHY on earth is she doing it? Money?

Masochism? Anton’s muscular arms? Ann Widdecombe, pictured right, stood there at the start of Strictly Come Dancing with all the elegance and panache of a toddler playing a Christmas tree in the playgroup concert.

Still, I have high hopes.

No series is complete without a flirty romance between contestants and my bet’s on Widdy and Gavin Henson. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?

Eat your heart out, Charlotte.

Cross with the Red Cross

Dear Sharon,
I TOO have been incensed by the antics of the Red Cross. In the past week I have received – two pens, note cards with envelopes and two large sheets of address labels – none of which I requested nor wanted. How much does all this cost?

Having received all this junk and multiplying the cost over the maybe thousands of other recipients, I have decided that if they can afford to use “our” money so wastefully, that they really don’t need any more.

J Sands (by email) Dear Sharon,
EVERY week I receive charity appeals, raffle tickets, labels etc.

Hardly a day goes by without some appeal through the post. It must cost a great deal in postage, admin, etc., but what really surprises me is how this information is printed in glossy colour on expensive paper. It is a dreadful waste of money. Most people will surely send it straight to the bin while those who are interested would read it if it was in black and white without all the expensive photography.

I suppose it must be worth the expense but I find it very hard to believe.

Carol Swainston (by email).