Everything and everyone looks better in the glow of the sun (except, of course, that sub species of homo sapien otherwise known as fattus bellius who once the sun shines has an irresistible urge to whip off his shirt to show us all the damage burgers and beer can do to you).

So I'm full of goodwill to all men. And this despite daily petrol price hikes, more and more house repossessions and general economic doom and gloom all round.

The nice weather has been perfect for me to indulge my new hobby of gardening.

Have I told you about my onions?

Although I say it myself, they are quite magnificent. Responding to my daily words of encouragement, I'm expecting such a bumper harvest that come August My Special Friend will probably be making onion ice cream to use up the perishing things.

I've fed my lawn, planted my pansies and got the barbie out and dined al fresco. Nothing can spoil my mood, not even Leeds United losing the first leg of the play-offs semi. Well almost nothing. A little story appeared in The ET on Tuesday which left me, sensitive soul that I am, with my head in my hands.

It was a warning from police about a spate of thefts from gardens. Their crime prevention advice to residents was "padlock your hanging baskets''.

How depressing is that? Even plants aren't safe from the green-fingered thieves. If you know of one make sure you grass him up.

Showing a healthy interest..
I blame barbara Windsor. Ever since I saw (most of) her in Carry On Doctor when I was a young, impressionable lad I've had a thing about nurses.

This has not diminished with the passing of time even though the odd hospital stay (wisdom teeth removal, asthma attack and snapped achilles tendon) has proved to me that in real life nurses tend to be more Hattie Jacques than little Babs.