I spent today attempting to identify 'product' that would be suitable for our hoped-for assault on the Amerikaland market. Not as easy as it sounds. I mean, what is at the top of US stairs? A whole lot of nothing-ness, it appears, which must be daunting when you want to get to your bedroom. British stairs ascend to the landing, which is safe and sensible, as it should be. Use of US/UK dictionaries and Googling can find me no reference to the equivalent structure.

And what do their poor schoolchildren have to keep their pens, pencils and crayons in? I had a pencil case for mine. So did all my friends (not my pencil case, obviously - they all had their own). But such things don't seem to exist across the Great Divide. And what do they wear on their feet when it's raining? Not good old wellies, apparently. Tcha! And people go running in tell-tales or something. It's a minefield.

Being quite security-conscious at work, the outer door of our building is usually kept locked, so we were very startled when a little old lady wandered into the office and demanded a bus pass. A strange request to put to a software company. If she'd wanted a mousemat there would have been no problem. She was adamant that she was in the right place, and got quite flustered when she had to be ushered out onto the street again.

Tonight, due to pointed nagging, I have striven and strived and strove and managed to move the Comments-wotsit from the top to the bottom of the post. Happy now, Mallikins?