Arise, Sir Lenworth

STRANGEST thing. On the way down to Devon we both had the odd sensation of not being on the right road. It just didn't look or feel like the usual route. After a while, it occurred to us that the old, familiar traffic islands had changed. None of them had been mowed. They were jungles of grass and flowers. So the first sign of the wicked Tory Cuts is no cuts?

ON the other hand, the lack of roadside trimming could be what the local council down here calls its "Special Verge Scheme". According to the posters, the aim is to encourage the growth of Nottingham catchfly, Horseshoe vetch and Corky-fruited water dropwort. Call me a Corky-fruited old sceptic but I suspect someone is making up plant names.

AND talk about lush. All those floods and this year's wet May followed by a warm start to June have caused an explosion of greenery across Somerset and Devon. Parts of the M5 now seem to run through rainforests.

MORE harbingers of global warming. The River Axe is awash with dustbin-sized jellyfish, bobbing in on the tide like ghosts in a fog. What is the correct collective noun for a load of jellyfish? A pod, a school, a shoal, a wobble? For a while Mrs Rhodes and I toyed with a mould of jellyfish before agreeing that the correct term is probably a set of jellyfish. Your suggestions are welcome, as always.

NO global-warming issues north of the border, it seems. In a little shop in the sun-soaked streets of Beer, a Scotsman was bitterly complaining about the windswept 9-degree nightmare he had left behind in Glasgow. It is a strange thing but ever since the Scots started taking independence seriously, their weather has gone right down the pan. There was a time when Scotland in May was a joy. The last three have been washouts. One nation one people, one endless downpour.

AN academic caused a row a couple of weeks ago by referring to erasers as "an instrument of the devil" for encouraging kids to hide and ignore their mistakes. I bet ye ancient mason who carved a plaque in Beer church would disagree. Mounted on the wall, it praises the memory of Edward Good, an "industrious fisherman" who left an endowment of £20 to the poor of the village. Having finished his plaque the mason no doubt sat back to admire it. That's when he would he have noticed the bit about how the money was to be "distirbuted," and no doubt muttered the Almighty's name.

"A NATION engorged on cupcakes is a nation in decline." The Daily Telegraph in full harrumphing mode this week, deploring the popularity of the American treat.

ARISE, Sir Lenworth. Lenny Henry's knighthood was only a matter of time and I bet within a few years he will be in the House of Lords. Not a bad result for a working-class lad from Dudley who has spent his entire adult life doing stuff he loves.

YES, the official photos of Prince George and his baby sister Charlotte are sweet. But that is no excuse for one of Fleet Street's finest putting up the headline: "Their Royal Cutenesses." This is England, not Disneyland.