One thought kept niggling at me during the Eurovision Song Contest voting when the former Eastern European states, and particularly the Balkan ones, were all supporting each other - apart from to wonder why UK No-Mates continues to take part in this farce, where any hope of success depends on belonging to a political or regional bloc.
The thought was that some of these countries which were ganging up against us, which came across from their performances and television link-ups as sophisticated and affluent, are the self-same countries from which allegedly impoverished immigrants are flooding into Britain and overwhelming council services in the boroughs to which they choose to gravitate.
The Government's continuing refusal to accept the full scale of the problem was highlighted this week by the leaders of four councils in or near to London who have written to the Treasury saying that the number of migrants in their areas has been hugely underestimated. As a consequence they haven't been allocated enough funds to meet the needs of the newcomers (which in Slough's case includes 90 gipsy children from Romania, some as young as ten, who have turned up without any accompanying adults!) With public services suffering, councils are demanding that the official method of counting be changed to reflect the true picture. And quite right too.
It's the Government's policy (or lack of one) on immigration from these countries which has allowed this situation to develop. Having failed to keep unwanted people out and not having the faintest idea of how many have come in, it appears to have opted for a system of guessing/estimating which is deliberately designed to come up with a lower figure.
It should listen to the people in the front line, the local councils which have to find the resources to deal with these people, and come up with the money nationally to meet the true cost rather than expecting beleaguered council taxpayers to bridge the gap by paying ever more and get less and less in return.
And if it doesn't have the cash to hand? Well maybe pulling out of the futile occupation of Iraq might free some up for investment closer to home.
Walk into happiness
"Retail therapy", the idea that trailing around the shops can cheer you up, is a myth. That's something most men have known for a long time but now it's been confirmed by a study carried out by Essex University for the charity Mind.
They sent a bunch of people with mental-health problems for a country walk, after which most of them reported that they felt less depressed and tense and had increased self-esteem. Then they sent them on a walk around a shopping centre. Fewer than half of them felt less depressed afterwards, and 22 per cent felt more depressed.
All of which seems to prove the benefits of ecotherapy, which Mind describes as "getting outdoors and getting active in a green environment".
Anyone who walks regularly could have told them that. The relaxing rhythm of walking, the filling of the lungs and bloodstream with oxygen, the peace of mind that comes from passing through a countryside environmentWell it's bound to do you good isn't it?
Problems which seem huge and insurmountable before you set off are a lot less intimidating after a few miles of striding out. Heads which buzz with problems become clearer.
As Mind rightly says, its a cheaper way of battling depression than using drugs, has no side-effects and is readily available on everyone's doorstep.
Ringing our bell
Are cyclists finally getting the message about bells? Towpath walking has been a bit of a nightmare in recent years because of the behaviour of people who come pedalling up behind with no audible indication of their presence until the very last minute.
But last weekend, walking back towards Shipley from Kirkstall alongside the canal, we were given ample advance warning by more than half a dozen cyclists.
They were "single ping" bells rather than the old-fashioned "Ting-a-ling-a-ling" ones of yesteryear, and in one case there was a gruff shout of "Excuse me!" instead. But it was definitely a move in the right direction.
My debt to battler Jane
It's sad but, given human nature, not entirely surprising that Jane Tomlinson, above, has had abusive letters and telephone calls and even death threats from people claiming not to believe that she's really suffering from cancer.
Some people who themselves have cancer and feel desperately ill and afraid because of it, those whose loved ones have succumbed to it or are struggling painfully to hang on to life, must feel bitter and envious when they see that cheerful smile from a face glowing from fresh air and exercise.
It would be wrong to say that Jane is one of the lucky ones. If she was lucky she wouldn't have contracted the disease in the first place, in her breast 17 years ago. Nor would she have discovered that it had spread to her bones or been told in 2000 that is was terminal.
Jane is still alive thanks to her ability to cope with years of chemotherapy, her fitness, and a degree of determination that isn't given to everyone. She's no fake. In fact she's an inspiration.
My late sister took great heart from the fact that Jane, though declared terminally ill as she was, seemed to go on and on. She was a shining example to her, and one of the reasons Liz was able to face her own illness and the debilitating treatment for it with such courage and optimism.
She admired Jane tremendously and wondered if she would be like her. It wasn't to be. But hoping that she might be kept her going and kept her cheerful, and I'll be eternally grateful to Jane for that.
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