So, England's finally dragged itself into the 21st century. Opticians are opening on Sundays now and in a few hours I shall be forking out an inflated price for another pair of glasses. No one will convince me opticians and while we're at it dentists, aren't rip off merchants.

I miss the weekend being distinctly separate, when you had to relax because you didn't have much choice. I remember the bliss of not having to get ready for school; the sound of a joint of lamb sizzling in the oven, the sweet yet sharp smell of Gran's home made mint sauce permeating the kitchen and once we'd eaten, sitting around the fire laughing at Tony Hancock and Frankie Howerd on the radio.

And if that little trip down memory lane doesn't date me nothing will!