DearGod in heaven, can nothing be done to rid the world of the terrible scourge of cancer?

There cannot be a family anywhere not stricken at some time by this dreadful disease. My wife Ellen is just back from a pilgrimage to Lourdes caring for someone very dear to us whom I shall call Joan. She is a young mother with two children under the age of five.

Joan has just learned she has lung cancer. She has never smoked. They went to the holy shrine in southwest France, where Bernadette saw her vision of Mary in February 1858, not expecting a miracle, but simply to find some inner strength for the struggle that lies ahead.

On the wall are crutches and walking sticks discarded by previous worshippers. Joan's story is sadly typical. For two years, she was concerned about a mole on her back, fearing it could be malignant.

Her GP put it down to cancer phobia, common enough in many patients, and assured her there was nothing to worry about. The brutal truth is the practice budget did not run to laboratory tests and apparently many doctors find it morally repugnant to arrange private treatment for those patients who can afford to pay.

Almost inevitably, Joan's mole turned out to be a cancerous melanoma and she underwent major surgery. For six months she acted as a guinea pig in experimental treatment and frequent checks pronounced her clear of cancer. She went for a final check earlier this month.

This time there were no smiles. The doctors diagnosed secondary cancer, affecting the lungs. Joan must now endure two or three sessions of chem-otherapy. Several anguished weeks will pass before she learns whether the disease has been halted. If there is no remission, she will be discharged to face the most awful prospect of all.

Relatives and friends have rallied round, anxious to help if at all possible. One couple even offered £200,000 raised on the sale of their house for private treatment. In the event, we must rely on the superior resources of the NHS, supported by faith and positive thinking.

The much-loved BBC sports presenter Helen Rollason took the same road, Lourdes and healing sessions, in addition to chemotherapy. For a time her condition improved to the point where she was able to return to work.

Sadly, the tumours returned and she died last August. It was the end of a two-year fight for life. That is the terrible nature of the disease.

All we can do is pray that our beloved Joan may be among those victims who are spared. Who knows, perhaps our prayers will have made all the difference.

How I saved Mike Reid's Life

Mike Reid reckons I saved his life, so it saddens me to hear he's been dramatically written out of EastEnders, suffering stress. What a strange malady for such a tough old Cockney.

Mike, 60, who plays Frank Butcher in the soap, has gone off to his Spanish villa to recuperate. I wish him a speedy recovery.

Did I save his life? That's for you to decide. It happened this way. Ten years ago, he was terribly depressed after a string of disasters. His son Mark committed suicide, having killed his best friend in a shooting accident.

Mike's marriage was in trouble, he had money troubles and his career as a comedian was at a low ebb. I was standing in for Wogan on BBC1 at the time and felt Mike's tragic story would make a riveting interview. So it proved.

It enabled Mike to tell us what happened in his own words and he was soon back in favour. He hasn't looked back since. Mike subsequently acknowledged my part in his success: "You saved my life, Del."

Youth pay no mind to manners

Much as I admire the younger generation - they have such a strong social conscience - it is my sad duty to report their manners and language are seriously out of order.

We hear effing and blinding at every turn. I fancy youths pick up their lo usy manners from popular heroes.Yobbish curses pour from the mouth of Liam Gallagher of Oasis, our soccer stars spit and snarl at each other and, in these laddish days, even the girls want to be one of the boys.

Growing up in the East End in the rough 'n' tough Thirties we were taught to respect our elders and never swear in front of the opposite sex.

Zoo owner should put people first

We keep hearing what a wonderful job upper-crust zoo keeper John Aspinall does in saving endangered species. I would rather he devoted his energies to saving Homo sapiens.

Five keepers have been mauled to death at Aspinall's zoos. The latest, Darren Cockerill, 27, was pinned down and killed by an elephant at Port Lympne wildlife park in Kent.

"That's on the minus side," said 73-year-old Aspinall. "A big minus, nobody denies that, least of all me. On the plus side is the phenomenal breeding record we have with very rare and endangered species."

Would you believe it? The Mayfair casino owner and conservationist is saying the loss of five lives is balanced in some way by his work with lions, tigers, elephants and apes. What arrogant nonsense, the Kent authorities should shut down his zoos.

Incidentally, Aspinall said his pal Lord Lucan must have drowned himself off Newhaven. Why couldn't he have told us that 26 years ago?

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.