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A huge thank you to the Cote Brasserie in Bury St Edmunds where one of the waiters on Sunday achieved what I informed him was a remarkable first.

I don’t very often attend barn dances.

Life is full of special connections; the magical chemistry that passes between people and tells you whether you will be friends, or lovers, or mere acquaintances, or whether they will inspire you to nip into Boots with a sudden need for cotton buds whenever you spot them in the street.

Glam rocker Marc Bolan’s music from Get It On to Ride a White Swan continues to inspire 20th century boy Nick Richards

Sometimes I find myself waking up and wanting to stay in bed for the rest of the day. What with bombings on the Tube, Boris Johnson, Wayne Rooney… wouldn’t it be nice if something good happened for a change?

BBC 1’s Doctor Foster is gripping drama. But it seems to be saying that a broken heart makes you a pariah. That can’t be right, surely?

Every year, I suggest a holiday in the UK, and every year I get talked out of it because of weather fears.

Haunted pianos, naturists, celebrities and a wife as well. Pianos have given Peter Tryon, from Drinkstone in Suffolk, quite a life. He told Liz Nice all about it

Didn’t he do well! Good game, good game! Will we miss Sir Bruce Forsyth?

My dad is essentially law-abiding.

It’s a bit like living in a timewarp with the papers full of Princess Diana again. I remember discovering the news of her death in 1997 from a friend who was staying with us that night. ‘Dodi’s died,’ he said, adding, in disbelief: ‘And Diana.’

So Dr Who is a woman. At last. Thank God.

I read an interview with Kirk Douglas at the weekend.

What is life for? Living? Eating? Staring into a glass? Some people live for work, until they realise, all too often too late in the day, that work doesn’t care.

Ever the cynic, I am usually suspicious of celebrities privatising grief.

I was talking to my friend in New York on Saturday morning. And then it struck me. I was talking to my friend in New York and it was Saturday morning!

My younger son gave me some advice this week.

Today is National Tea Day and tea is, of course, the fulcrum around which our entire nation pivots.

It’s the London marathon this weekend. A year ago, I achieved a lifetime’s ambition and took part in it, finishing in five hours, 18 minutes.

From Tudor mansions to Georgian palaces, East Anglia is blessed with some of the country’s best stately homes. Take a stroll into the past and peek into the lives of those who made thier home in Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex.

There was a T-shirt in front of me, as there always is when one is a running a marathon.

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