One of those priceless I don't believe it moments happened last night. Sitting with the family eating away when there was a knock on the door and a tall young chap presented himself by standing a metre away from the door, standing sideways on to me. He blurted that he'd been down at number 111 and he knew that our house was new and he knew that we probably didn't want new windows and he knew that he was probably wasting his time but had we ever considered fitting new windows even though he knew that the house was new and that we probably didn't want anything but had we considered it? Maybe next year? I politely said no and we parted company. Mirth and merriment in the W household. Knock, knock, knock! Hello, not so tall, very thin beard thrusts leaflet at me and says you've probably heard of us, Reg Molehusband (or someone I'd never heard of) soap star advertises us on the telly, we're selling French windows and doors and they will make a lasting impression on the house and he knew that the house was new but had we considered it? I said your friend has just been here ... he stopped for a second ... I said young and tall ... he said short hair, glasses ... I said yes ... he said that's Nick, oh Nick was here ... so are you considering fitting French windows in the near future? I said we've already got them thanks. Oh, thanks for your time anyway! Who sent these people to a brand new housing estate to sell such things? Moreover, having got here hadn't they got the message after around, let's say, six properties? Life's like that as the Reader's Digest says! DW