Lord Belmont, Navvy.

I now have an inkling as to what it must feel like to be a navvy, rigger or stoker in one of those old steam-ships. In preparation for new, state-of-the-art loft insulation, I've been clearing out the attic. What a task. It was like a Swedish sauna up there, below the rafters, too. The sweat was literally dripping off me. Not used to it, I hear you saying. Still fit for the task, though.

There must be forty years of junk up there, and most of it has now been sorted to an extent. I unearthed five or six old suit-cases and I've made good use of 'em: old photographs in one; clothes in another and so on.

I'm sure something blinked at me when I lifted a box! I've taken the opportunity to dump a lot of stuff. I took an old Hoover, baby chair, Christmas trees, hat-box to the dump; the clothing included an army tunic and trousers, fur coats and a dinner-jacket.

I found my full evening dress up there; you know, the tail-coat, stiff white shirt with wing-collar, white piqué waist-coat and white tie. I brought them downstairs. The top-hat and double-piped trousers are in another wardrobe.

There's still a lot of stuff, mind you; but at least it's been sorted and more orderly. The new loft insulation is to be fitted next Tuesday.