Peter Rhodes on a trip to the glazier's, the lure of England and an Almighty scandal in Hollywood

A READER suggests the Scottish Highlands have "plenty of room left for our current population." It doesn't work like that. Put new arrivals in Scotland and they tend to drift south like sand in an egg timer. Imagine the climate-shock of coming from somewhere like Syria to a land where it is dark by 3pm in winter. Dr Johnson famously claimed that: "The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England." If you were born in Damascus and transplanted to Paisley, you'll probably understand.

IN October last year I wrote: "Harvey Weinstein is... deliciously easy to hate. But as this affair deepens and the Hollywood swamp is drained, don't be surprised if some of your favourite stars turn out to be wading in the ooze." But I never imagined Morgan Freeman would be in the frame and begging forgiveness. In Evan Almighty (2007) he was a most convincing God.

AND off to the glazier for some panes to glaze the shed and fit into the space above a bedroom door. The bedroom glass is one of those little jobs at Chateau Rhodes which has been hanging around for a few years. About 20 years, come to think. Tricky stuff, glass. I ordered three pieces and brought them home on the car seats while trying not to think what might happen in the event of a crash.

I RECALLED buying a mirror some years ago which turned out to be bigger than I thought. It only just fitted in the car by balancing it between the seats with one edge resting snugly against my carotid artery. I don't think I have ever driven quite so safely.

BUT then, as any road safety expert will tell you, there are two ways to protect drivers. The first is to restrain them in seat belts and surround them with airbags. The second is to install a needle-sharp metal stake in the dashboard with the point one inch from their heart.

I MUST resist the mischievous temptation to refer to glass as a solid. This always flushes out the smartarse pedants who will tell you that glass is actually a supercooled liquid, followed by the even smarter pedants who insist it is neither solid nor liquid but an amorphous solid. As this means absolutely nothing to anyone, it is probably the right answer.

WHATEVER its true nature, glass is very odd stuff. I recall as a lad a mate and I went to his father's glazing shop where a patient old chap cut us a huge lake-shaped piece of dimpled glass to be the central feature of our model-railway layout. It was thick, strong glass but on the way home we passed a workman digging up the pavement with a pneumatic drill. We must have been 20 feet away but the moment he cut loose with that drill, the glass shattered.

SHAME politicians are not as clear as glass. Does anyone understand Jeremy Corbyn's position on a united Ireland? Including himself.