My father and I sit in the back room of my childhood home and stare out of the window at his small, well-maintained but very much a self confessed "work in progress" garden with highlights of The Chelsea Flower show whispering from the television set as we drink wine and reminisce.
The average British woman spends £140,000 on hair and beauty products throughout her lifetime. That's a lot of money to spend on drawing male attention only to then be punished and frowned upon for enjoying the result of it.
Reporter and real earthling, Andy West took to the diary room at the weekend feeling defeated at the realisation that he is emotionally on his own in there. I hope he finds some meaningful friendship soon, because seeing him diminished by a wall of vapidity is not something I'll take any pleasure in viewing.
From across the UK we had more than 1,200 bands apply for the show, the casting team trawled the country watching more than 100 bands play in six weeks. We had a few Spinal Tap submissions, plenty of 'dad' bands belting out cover versions of Whole Lotta Love, but the overall standard was extremely high.
Off the top of my head, there is a weird man-mannequin by the name of Chelsea, who appears to have washed ashore during an oil slick, a celebrity offspring, a posh-but-not-posh country girl, a tough guy, and of course the token twins.
Fresh from the show's recent success at the British Soap Awards, I had a chat with Lisa George, aka Beth Sutherland, about why the series is still going strong after 55 years.
Reviews of the revamped version of the BBC Two motoring show have been pretty scathing since its debut at the end of May, and much attention has been placed upon its ratings. But while Chris isn't ready to admit there may be faults with the series, he isn't exactly helping matters with his ranty defence of it either.
The production team didn't cast the net very wide when thinking about the types of men they wanted on the new series. It seems a rippling set of abs and some terrible opinions on women were the only thing required to get you noticed by producers, which has resulted in a pretty damning representation of the modern male on the show.
Comedy is a weird one. One minute you're performing to 12 people (8 of whom are comedians) in a room above a pub in Leicester Square with no microphone, no stage lights and a potted plant as a set piece and five years and a lot of miles later you can sell out your own show at The Lowry. Then, if you get super lucky, you get to do some TV.
We are living in a golden age of TV. We are watching more and more great shows from an ever increasing array of new challengers to the traditional broadcasters. But beyond Netflix and Amazon we are seeing innovative brands becoming the publishers of great original content.
I do not know whether there was a screening before the series went to air, because the issues should have been picked up then and I really do not understand how the BBC's QC process failed so miserably.
You might see the occasional black and white puffin or guillemot flapping furiously past. As you float into a sea of these birds, they flap away with a furious clattering sound, as their feet slap the water and their wings pedal furiously.
Amid all the excitement and more than a dash of disappointment over the return of Top Gear, it is going to be interesting to hear what happens on Chris Evans' breakfast show on Radio 2 this week. Now all the hype is over, Evans has to deal with pretty poor reviews and some slating feedback...
We've seen Britain's most famous landlady battle cancer, negotiate her family's many feuds and cover up their crimes. She's taken - and dished out - a number of slaps, and watched her beloved pub burn to the ground, all while seeming far mightier than her 4'11" stance suggests she should be.
The Great British Sewing Bee is back and this means one of two things. You're either swooning over Patrick Grant being back on the TV or you're wishing you could make your own clothes. While I can't help you with the first one here are five reasons you should stop wishing and start doing...
Justin Timberlake is obviously great, but he's American, totally irrelevant to this extravaganza, which has traditionally invited a fitting act to showcase the host nation. And that hasn't worked out badly either. Riverdance stole the show in 1994, and never looked back.