Take me to Joe Biden, he's at my level.

Cornwall may well become the epicentre of the UK space industry but this little gizmo has nothing to do with that. For those with a furtive but interesting mindset it’s not related to “that” either! 

The Garden Fairy has Bursitis, which is an inflammation of the tendons supporting the outer part of the hip joint. All those years running away from me have finally taken their toll. It’s similar in effect to Carpal Tunnel syndrome. 

This roller ball does what it says on the tin. Gently rubbing the rotating ball head along the inflamed tendons helps relieve the pain and accelerates the reduction of swelling within the joint. I used it on the boy on Sunday after his injury, not on his knee but on his neck. He was so tense, after five minutes he was putty in my hands. I’m going to see if any of the local grannies would care to try my new therapy. 

I wrote yesterday about our daughter upsetting her mum. She went one stage further a while later. I had become agitatedly accustomed to her attending disco nights at her senior school. Her friends would rush to our place clad in their exceedingly revealing glad rags and make-up. Then my pride and joy would make her appearance. The first time I nearly cried out loud. No way was she going out dressed and made up like that!!!!! However restraint and a knife in my ribs care of the Garden Fairy, shut me up. 

There is a bus stop in Newburgh, wherein lives Talpa, Blipper and confidante. The youth of the village used this as an impromptu ghetto. I owned an ancient Land Rover, which the brat had forgotten about, she also forgot that dad worked weird hours. One fine sunny day, it may have been December, she was hanging about outside this den of inequity with two of her pals, rocking on her feet at the kerbside doing her best to look like part of the pack. Suddenly a Landy screeched to a laborious halt, the passenger door opened and a deep Gorilla growl emanated from the interior. 

“Two choices young lady, get in now, or run home and get there before me. Your choice!”

She got in and I calmly explained why she would not be seen there again. Reputation, especially in a small village, where tongues wag and your business is known before you do is everything. Aged 21 she went to Oz for a year and sent home photos of her time in Karratha, where her dad had been based for six months and raised hell. The photos had been taken in my favourite pub, she was dancing on the table tops. I had to laugh, she knows which of my buttons to press.