You'd have thought that moving to a different country would protect you from stuff like this. But no, I open the papers at lunchtime and what do I see...

Dedicated to Alexine. This one has claimed our living room window as its own.

This is my grandad's Kodak Vest Pocket camera. He bought it in the 1930s -- probably in 1938 (his initials 'TWH' and what looks like '38' have been scratched on the inside).

The leather bellows looks to be light-tight, and I discovered recently that it can use a kind of roll film that's still in production in Croatia. So I ordered a few rolls from a distributor in Germany and will now give it a go.

If it still works, I thought it would be a nice project to photograph some of his descendants with it.

Which reminds me: I must make a donation to the guy who put a PDF of the original user manual on the internet.

I took this about five years ago and at the wrong time of year. But happy Midsummer, Solstice, Litha, etc., despite the 'zero tolerance' policing and reports of an unmanned surveillance drone. I suppose hippies = beards; Taliban = beards; therefore hippies = Taliban.

You'd have thought one of the druids would turn the drone into a bluebottle and have it eaten by one of the crows you can just about make out on top of the stones.

In the best British tradition of being offended by something you'd never heard of until the papers mentioned it, I have been traumatised by this TV advert for Walkers Crisps.

I'm not the only one. It's apparently the eighth most complained-about ad of 2008.

Walkers responded by cutting the scene where the bus has its roof torn off, so as not to offend people who have actually experienced such an accident.

Well, I have. And thanks to The Independent and YouTube, I get to be faux-outraged anyway.

As a kid in the 1970s, I used to take a double-decker to school. One morning an inexperienced driver carried straight on when he should have turned left. The children on the bus warned him that there was a low bridge ahead. He obviously didn't spot the relevant road-signs and was in no mood to do a three-point turn on a minor road just in case the brats weren't playing a practical joke on him.

Fortunately, we all knew the bridge was there, so everyone moved out of the way in time. And seeing as -- unlike Gary's stunt double in the advert -- the driver was going at a normal speed, he didn't so much rip off the roof as open it up like a sardine can for about half its length.

In reality, we all thought it was hilarious. Especially the driver's reaction (cue Scouse accent): "Arr ay. It's me first day, an' all."

But that won't stop me trying to grab some of Lineker's money by claiming for mental anguish. It's the patriotic thing to do, after all.

... the Count of Conflagration? Left in charge of a wood-fired oven?

What were they thinking of?

 You may think that's a stupid title, but summer time did just start unexpectedly, and it's a lot more respectable than the other captions suggested by this odd visitor.

The King of the Leuven Translators. Ed still can't help giving Americans a good name.