Peter Rhodes on a mature Bond, a morning on the roof and the perils of family history

May I be the first to point out that, no matter how long the Duchess of Sussex's troublesome father Thomas Markle lives, and no matter how peacefully he dies, his death will be an SAS assassination ordered by the Palace.

EVERYBODY has their sell-by date, including spies. On December 20, 2014 I wrote a piece in support of casting Idris Elba as the next James Bond. Nearly four years have rolled by and the producers are still thinking about it. Elba is 45 and while there is no reason that 007 should not be played by an actor of any colour, will audiences accept a middle-aged Bond?

AND back up on the roof clutching the trusty tub of mastic and a spreader, following the appearance of a small leak. It is a curious thing about flat roofs but what really knackers them is not rain but sun. Three months of tropical hot and dry turns the waterproof surface into cracks, crevices and blisters, like an elephant with smallpox. And while the repair gunk clings pretty well to the roof, the thing it sticks to most determinedly is your fingers. My hands are now fully waterproofed for the winter, thanks.

OFF to the pub for a steak which, in the latest fashion for bizarre methods of serving (chips in buckets, etc), came on a waxed napkin on a breadboard. It was almost impossible to eat because each mouthful of steak contained a serving of napkin but the staff look horrified when I asked them to put it on a proper plate. A reader tells me he was once served a bread roll in a carpet slipper. Any other weird dining experiences welcome.

THE perils of family trees. A reader revisited her home town and called at the local museum in the hope of discovering famous or distinguished relatives. After some searching, the resident historian emerged triumphantly with a display board used in an exhibition a couple of years ago featuring a Victorian photograph showing her great-great uncle. It should have been a proud moment but the text revealed that "unfortunately his nickname in the village was Farty because his initials were WC". Never meet your heroes.

IN January 2015 many liberal, right-on folk defiantly declared "Je Suis Charlie" in support of a French magazine's right to free speech after the massacre of its staff. The Charlie Hebdo message was that free speech must be defended even if it offends a religion. Rather fewer folk have declared their support for an Englishman's right to free speech. You won't see many "Je Suis Boris" badges.

TIME flies. It is three years since this column last looked at eggcorns, those endearingly daft expressions created by people who misunderstand the original expression. But they still pop up. In an email one reader accuses another of "changing tact." It should, of course, be "tack"; it's a sailing term. I have other examples but I'm biting my thyme.