Peter Rhodes: A merry-go-round ending

GREAT historical events that nobody saw coming: The Turko-Dutch War of 2017.

UNDERSTANDING Scottish politics. The Scots had a referendum on independence only a couple of years ago. The campaign was nasty, ill-tempered and divisive. That is why most folk in Scotland are horrified at the prospect of another referendum on leaving the UK. In fact, the only thing that could possibly make the Scots want a second referendum is an English prime minister telling them they can't have one.

“I REALLY am incredibly lucky, aren't I?” asks Lilian in The Archers (Radio 4), announcing that her long-term lover, Justin is leaving his awful wife to be with her. Well, what can one say? Except that when anybody in Ambridge says: “I really am incredibly lucky, aren't I?” we all know that the most appalling bad luck is coming. Stay off the roof, Lilian.

IF you thought the series finale of Call the Midwife (BBC1) was just a tad over-the-top, I do seem to recall that in the early 1960s it was possible to win a fortune at the dog track, hand the cash over to your friendly local fairground operator and have a massive electric merry-go-round with prancing horses erected outside your house before Listen With Mother began. Yes, life was grand in those days. You could leave your doors unlocked and buy three sixpenny buns for a farthing. Aye, magical times.

SOMETHING called the Malnutrition Task Force issued a warning this week that weight loss after retiring from work could be an early sign of malnutrition. Well, maybe it can. On the other hand, it could be the result of giving up a 40-year nosh-fest office regime which goes something like: 7am, Mars Bar in car to work; 8am, breakfast trolley (BLT and toast); 11.30am, elevenses run to Greggs (sausage rolls and veggie pastie); 2pm, Maisie in Reception is 50, cakes all round; 4pm, Abbie in Forward Planning is 21, cakes all round; 4.30, Dot in Finance got married, wedding cake all round; 5pm Kit-Kat in car on way home. And then you retire from work and find you lose a few pounds. Hardly surprising, is it?

THE Boaty McBoatface saga, which provided so much innocent amusement last year, rumbles on. As you may recall, the Great British Public was invited to choose a name for Britain's new research vessel. The winner by far, with more than 100,000 votes, was Boaty McBoatface. The authorities decided to name the new boat after Sir David Attenborough but in deference to the masses, named a mini-submarine Boaty McBoatface. It was unveiled this week . At the time of the name-vote last year, a few days before the EU referendum, a reader warned us that the sort of people who voted for such daft names were entitled to vote in the most important referendum of modern times. What we don't know, and will probably never know, is how many of the Boaty McBoatface tendency voted for Brexit.

WHILE in the files, I discovered I wrote this on the eve of the EU referendum when a Remain vote seemed certain: “I'm hoping the day will be saved by Outy McOutface.” Never expected that to come true.