Gone west (without flip flops)

It seems insincere to say I have been incommunicado so I shan't. Instead I should like to clear up any concern I might still be in Bangkok Airport; I have in fact returned to the land of packet sandwiches and expensive transport: Ingerland.

Here - the spiritual home of humour and middling national sport teams - I have swapped people who are deft, courteous and clean for people who blow their noses on their sleeves and carry their own umbrellas.

It is still full of thoroughly good people though. And brilliantly despite James Blunt being British I hear his music far less over here - this has significantly aided my return to mental health. It's good to be back.

In other quite old news there remain many fearful things in the world. Although the most fearful - dropping biscuit in hot drink - is still with us, one has finally made his exit: Donald Rumsfeld is gone. Hallelujah! I wonder what the cuddly maniac will do now?

I'd like to see him on my Father's*, who recently gave up smoking after 40 years, new favourite show: Strictly Come Dancing.

Any volunteers to rhumba with Rummy?

* His favourite pop song is still Chesney Hawkes - I am the one and only. Worrying times.