If you’ve been thinking about getting a Digital Radio for some time, but never really had the excuse, perhaps the BBC Radio Amnesty may give it to you. You can get a 10% discount in a number of stores if you trade your old AM/FM battery powered radio in before the end of July 2005.

Just a thought.

Does this mean I have to look again at my fast-held belief that it always rains in Wales?

Seriously, the rain caught me out - along with many of my colleagues - the other day. I am happy to report we are back to blue skies with little cloud. However, despite all the hot weather, the builders on the new development opposite are yet to take off a shirt (let alone turn up in shorts). Damn those Health and Safety Laws!

Have you ever had one of those days when you just want to go home? When I say go home, of course what I actually mean is head for the local pub, down way too many drinks, flirt enthusiastically with a guy you are sure has the arse of Bono and the looks of a young Judd Nelson circa The Breakfast Club, (although the vodka could be lying to you - this is the Gene Puddle after all), go dancing and then stagger in to collapse in your bed with no thoughts of setting an alarm? That’s me today.

I could ramble about the why’s (work, friends, loved ones, etc), however, that wouldn’t solve anything. So, I’m going to go, pick up the little one, entertain an 85 year-old for an hour (don’t ask!), put little one to bed, open the vodka and have a nip or 10.

If I’m not on-line in the morning, I’ve overslept and someone needs to wake me!

Another thing to do with The Smiths back-catalogue!

With thanks to My Dear Friend, who has an incredible skill for finding such gems!

Last Thursday turned into a bit of a nightmare scenario, to be honest. I will use this to excuse the lack of posts until now.

I arrived in London 25 minutes late (the wheel’s on the train in front of ours apparently got hot and set off an alarm - this led to the delay) and had to rush across town to make my pre- and main meeting in the London Office. All went well on my tube journey and I arrived with still some time to catch up for the pre-meeting with a Scottish colleague before we assembled on Whitehall for the two minutes silence. There was no organisational decree about this - people just gathered. We were looking onto Trafalgar Square and when noon came everything stopped. Everything, that is, except the tour bus that chugged away next to us for the full two minutes and the people who were obviously far too eager to get to wherever they had to be to spend a couple of minutes thinking about their fellow man. But that’s how it is.

Anyway, meeting over and the journey home. Left in plenty of town to get to Paddington for the 1615 train. All was going well until we pulled into Edgware Road. Indeed, it was all going to well. A bloke in a light coloured suit got on at Oxford Circus and I didn’t bat an eye-lid until he started playing his didgeridoo (and yes I mean the musical instrument and am not using some euphamism for something much more seedy!). It took me a few seconds to realise there was a funny noise in the carriage and look up. Hats off to the bloke opposite who didn’t once raise his eyes from his paper.

So, we get to Edgware Road and a man’s voice comes over the speaker. Paddington has been closed due to a security alert. We’re not stopping at Paddington so hop off here or at the station after. As I knew the way from Edgware Road to Paddington I jumped off, forgetting the 125 steps from the platform to the surface. Damn my lack of fitness - and commuters in a rush to get on with their journey home. On reaching the surface I confirmed that Paddington mainline was still open (I was heading to the pub had it not been) and, realising I had 8 minutes to get my train, put a proverbial spurt on.

I headed on to the concourse at Paddington at just after 1614. I thought I’d missed the train (what with the “these doors now shut 40 seconds before departure..” missives) and slowed down. Then I noticed the train still on the boards - and sped up once more. As I rushed onto Platform 4 I asked one of the guards if I was still able to get on, to which he replied, no problem, but hurry you’ve only got a minute or so.

Ten minutes after I’d sat down (and after two announcements that the first stop would be Bristol - causing half the train passengers to get back off) we started on our merry way - at a top speed of 100 miles an hour (due to a broken window in first class??). The air conditioning was on the blink - but at least I got a free Evening Standard. The train, which should have got into Cardiff just after 1815 ambled in around 1900, leaving me another dash to my Gene Puddle connection. Another day, another public transport nightmare. Another day, another missed opportunity to kiss William good-night.

Two things that really hit home on the day - one trivial, the other not.

I’ve been travelling back and forth to London semi-regularly for getting on 20 years. I have never seen so many police in the city and particularly armed police wandering around as I did last Thursday. I saw them at Paddington, two on the tube station and more than I could count around Whitehall. There were gatherings of them on Trafalgar Square - but I presume that had something to do with the event of remembrance being held there that evening. Sub-machine guns seem to be the weapon of choice for the police who dress all in black (I’m not sure the official title - but they don’t seem to have the normal helmets - and rather more personal protective clothing).

It reminded me of my visit to Moscow, which was about 15 years ago now. The over-riding memory I have of the International Terminal at Moscow Airport was of spotty 17-year olds carrying machine guns, finger on trigger, trying to look hard. I’ve always commented that I’m glad I don’t live in a land where guns are carried - and people are scared. Despite all the talk, guns are now being carried by the police in London and people are scared. There were a group of young people on my tube train that morning, a mix of ethnicities. One lady, who had got on in front of me at Paddington got off and must have entered another carriage to the one I was on. She got off at Charing Cross, looking visibly concerned. Yes, they had ruck-sacks (and, just to make matters worse, hoodies!), but were probably on their way to college. Yes, I noticed them, but I really didn’t give it another thought - until I saw the woman again (she was wearing a skirt, pop-socks and open-toed sandals - call me shallow, but I never forget things like that!). So, my London colleagues and friends can say what they like - there are people out there who are now scared to be. That’s sad.

And, on that trivial note, I’ve discovered Sudoko. Yes, six months later than the rest of the universe, but it whiled away a very long, frustrating journey home (it was a “challenging” one, so I felt OK that it took me nearly an hour to complete!).

No visits to London this week - and I can’t say I’m disappointed. Only one more planned this month - and at least that’s for a social event in work - so I’ll be getting back on the train with a couple of bottles of wine inside me!

I’m going up to London tomorrow. The first time since last Thursday. I’m generally fine about it. I know it’s part of my job - and after all people, there’s a mortgage to be paid. My pilates instructor (I went last night - what a mistake that was. Way to hot!) was about 100 yards away from the bus when it went up. She was in London for a training course - which didn’t happen. £120 taxi ride to Reading and she was on her way back. She said she’s not sure it’s really hit home yet how close she way (she, unfortunately saw victims although could do nothing to help before being moved on by the police) - but that it took days to get the smell out of her nose.

I haven’t enjoyed being on the tube since I had my breakdown in the late 1980’s. Crowds freaked me out back then - and I never really got over being in the middle of a stampede when they shut one of the lines at Victoria. I put up with travelling this way. It’s generally easier and quicker for what I need, to jump around the city in a subteranean rat-run than to get buses. For us out of towners, with little direction, I’m never sure where I’m getting off - i.e. whether it’s the next stop or twenty minutes away. Hence I spend entire bus journeys jumping up and down. In the current climate of “lets not do anything to make ourselves stand out” (which Gert spectacularly failed to do yesterday despite almost being a Londoner!) the sight of a jittery Welsh woman is likely to raise eyebrows.

So, I get the hated tube. It’s easy Paddington - on the Bakerloo - to Charing Cross, walk to the office. Simple. Simple as long as it doesn’t stop in the middle of a tunnel. Simple if there aren’t too many people. Simpler than doubling (and more) my journey time by getting the bus. Simple as long as nothing goes wrong.

I’m sure it’ll all be fine.

I’ve had to have the same conversations with my mother over the last week as when I used to go to London during the IRA threat in the 1980’s. She was OK about it then, but much worse now “I’m a mother with other responsibilities”. She doesn’t quite understand that I might be a mother, but my full-time wages are also kind of important in keeping her darling grandson clothed, housed and watered.

Luckily my meeting tomorrow isn’t until midday and shouldn’t go on beyond 2ish- so no rush hour usage. All being well, I’ll be back in the puddle in time to put William to bed - and to prepare for my day’s leave on Friday, when I intend to do very little with my brain.

It took me ages to work out what Honourable Fiend was talking about. However, then the penny finally dropped!

Not bad, as he espouses to not be a fan of the gladioli waving one. Something must have rubbed off from me over the years!

No, nothing to do with the heatwave..

Given the events of last week, the advice of the East Anglian Ambulance Service may be worth bearing in mind. Along with Simon Weston they have launched the ICE initiative. Basically, the idea is to enter “ICE” into your mobile phone with your In Case of Emergency telephone number. If you have more than one, then you can enter ICE1, ICE2, etc. Certainly seems a sensible - and easy - way to make sure the person contacted is appropriate.

Honourable Fiend has some links and of course there is always the BBC.

Hope all you and yours are well. Can only think how lucky I feel not to be in the middle of the chaos today. My problems with public transport seemed bad enough on Monday - I dread to think how awful they must be for people today.

Thoughts with all involved.

I’m desperately trying not to by cynical about London being awarded the Olympics in 2012.

I am a sports fan and can think of nothing better than being able to attend Olympic events in person - something that would never happen if I also had to travel a significant way. However, after my public transport nightmare on Monday, listening to the views of my more metropolitan colleagues and friends and the whole athletics World Championship/Wembley Stadium fiasco, I seriously hope I won’t be turning around in 2012 and saying “I told you so..”.

I would go on, but I always criticise people for being “down” on the British ability to pull great events and spectacles together. It probably will happen - I just dread the bill at the end!