Orchids; rail replacement buses; knackered cables

Jude and I observed a few seconds’ silence in the office today to mark the death of Corey Haim, a heartthrob for a few months in the 1980s. Our colleagues, being either over 50 or under 30 and, either way, unlikely to have ever noted his existence, were unmoved.

On the subject of the 1980s, I was again amused to note on my recent visit to my parents’ place that they have not only kept the small portable radio they bought for me when I was a teenager, but that it apparently still works – although quite why they haven’t wanted to progress to digital radio I’m not sure; dispenses with all that tedious tuning-in stuff. I remember many a night when I fell asleep with the radio on my pillow listening to Laser 558 (none of your iPods in those days - we had it tough).

Visited Kew Gardens on Saturday for the first time in several years. Met Helen by the Princess of Wales Conservatory as she wanted to see the orchid display on what was the last weekend of Kew's Tropical Extravaganza. The glasshouse was packed but an amazing riot of colour. We also saw a puffer fish, which swam towards us puffing in a manner that Helen found quite cute, but which I'm not so sure about given that apparently they're the world's second most poisonous vertebrate.

While at the Gardens we also experienced the Rhizotron and Xstrata Treetop Walkway, opened in 2008. Great views, but I did find the lack of a solid floor disconcerting - while not being exactly terrified of heights, I would have preferred not being able to see straight through to the ground 18 metres below. Managed to make it round without having a fit of the vapours though.

My journey home was significantly delayed due to train cancellations, due to an earlier collision at a level crossing in Wokingham. As the train was pulling into Ascot there was an announcement that it was going no further and we all had to get out. We were all ushered into a waiting bus by station staff, insisting defensively that none of it was their fault. While trying to be appreciative of the behind-the-scenes organisation presumably needed to organise rail replacement buses at short notice, the bus journey did significantly extend my journey, not helped by the fact that our driver appeared unfamiliar with the area – we had a little circular jaunt around a housing estate while trying to find Martins Heron, a minor station between Bracknell and Ascot, and then drove three times around the same roundabout in Bracknell, with people on the bus who knew the area urging helpfully ‘Turn left here!’.

Harley’s munchathon continues, with two severed phone cables in the space of a few weeks. (Actually we can’t swear it was Harley, but have started attributing most bunny-related evil deeds to him.) Here he is under the bed in the master bedroom (his latest favourite spot), looking hungrily at an extension cable.

While on the subject of domestic minutiae, I managed to lose one half of an expensive pair of leather gloves while walking around Kew on Saturday. As soon as I realised the loss I quickly retraced my steps around the sprawling Temperate House (almost knocking a few dawdling pensioners into the vegetation while doing so) while Helen kindly revisited the Evolution House, but it was not to be found. Contacted Kew's 'Constabulary', who got me briefly excited by announcing that a leather glove had indeed been handed in, but a description of it revealed that it wasn't mine. It's been a bad year for gloves as I've already lost one pair this winter.