There has been a group of young lads stationed outside our local off-licence with a Guy Fawkes made of a pair of stuffed trousers and an old sweatshirt.

At first he didn't have a head. Then he acquired an old football which sat precariously on top.

"Penny for the Guy please, missus," I was asked every time I passed them.

"He hasn't even got a face, never mind hands or feet," I said as I tried to explain my philosophy of not giving money to people who can't be bothered to make a proper Guy.

This fell on deaf ears. However, they eventually acquired a ghoulish mask for the football so I relented and handed over some change.

My partner went past them later and also donated change. "Doing all right then, lads?" He said. "OK, made about £38 this evening," they said.

It just goes to show what a bit of entrepreneurial spirit, some bare- faced cheek and a pile of old clothes can do. They've probably made more than I have this week.

When I was their age we weren't allowed out until our Guy had passed my Mum's inspection and we were sent back to improve it if it didn't meet her exacting standards.

We vaguely thought about trying to cash in on this, deciding we could do something similar and dress daughter up in her Dad's old clothes. However, we decided she was unlikely to comply.

The dog, Sam, is better behaved now he's settling in. We took him to the puppy training class at the weekend and have been doing his training sessions in the local park.

I don't think he could sit still long enough to be a Guy yet, though. Maybe next year...