Small Gods begins tonight on Radio 4. After my bedtime, unfortunately, but who cares? Radio 4 now has a “Listen Again” feature on the website, so? listen to? it at your leisure. I may even see about downloading it onto Darling Wifey’s iPod and pinching that, too.

So what’s so clever about Small Gods, then? Apart from it being classic Pratchett?

Well, on Discworld, gods need people more than people need gods - and as any student of english-language popular theology will doubtless know, this is exactly how sectarian Christians like their deities. (The difference between a sect and a church is subtle: both believe in what they think is the truth, it’s just that the sect thinks it has the exclusive global and universal rights to it. Who is going to? deliver the truth, show us the way? and set the gods free?)

Then there’s the philosophy which, frankly, if you think is even remotely silly then you have taken everything far too seriously and need to go and lie down for a while.

A number of religions? on the Discworld? still? practice human sacrifice,? except they don’t really need to? practice it any more? as they have become very good at it indeed. But then they have a? direct approach to religion on the Discworld. As they say there, build a man a fire and he’ll be warm for a day. Set him on fire and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.

The question I have for essayists is this: am I the only one who takes Pratchett seriously as a satirist?

Darling Wifey and I went to see the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of The Crucible at the RST in Stratford last night. Yet another stunning performance of an incredible play - I think? it would be entertaining to? watch the RSC do my gardening, they are so good to watch. (Mind you, I’d? rather watch anyone else? do my gardening than actually do it myself.)

When Miller penned the play, in response to Elia Kazan’s 1952 decision to save his own career by ‘naming names’ to Senator McCarthy’s own witch-hunt, it was with one intention in mind: to caricature one of Calvinism’s? regularly abused qualities? in order to? denounce those who believed that only? people who openly declare their allegiance and denounce dissidents should enjoy the freedoms and blessings our society has to give. (Kazan was still paying the price for his decision when he was given a Lifetime Achievement Ward at the 1999 Oscars,? as so many people refused to applaud him. Meanwhile the Washington Post still regarded him as a hero in the struggle against Communism.)

This? is a natural consequence of any idealism. It is only because of the significance of the Founding Fathers in American history that Miller chose to use the example of the Salem Witch-hunts to attack those who sacrifice freedom and liberty on the altar of their own creeds - but he might just have easily have written a play about the Muslim Rightly Guided Caliphs, or the Gunpowder Plot in Stuart England, or the establishment of the State of Israel. And on Radio 4 the other week, the parallels with the “War on Terror” are equally valid. (Although how can you declare war on an abstract noun?)

One thing that shines through the play is a universal truth about human belief, that we are able to live? the paradox of enjoying the benefits of freedom whilst, without the smallest twinge of our consciences, deny those freedoms to others. After all, if we think that we have found the truth, it is easy to dismiss, denounce and condemn those who we think have not.

After all, if the truth is the truth, then nothing should be allowed to deny it. And, as Deputy-Governor Danforth says, “if they are innocent they have nothing to fear.“

Weeding (unless you want all the plants cleared from your flowerbeds)

Washing up (unless you like to see the same four pans washed endlessly all afternoon)

Baking (today he put twelve eggs, a kilo of muesli and a bottle of Evian in a pan, mixed it up, brought it to me and said, “Cake go in hot!“)

Phoning? for help in emergencies? (the emergency operators now recognise our phone number when it pops up on their displays)

Painting and decorating (ever heard of the Forth Bridge?)

Making sandwiches (just like Mrs Doyle)

Feeding the pets (it takes a cocker spaniel nearly a fortnight to eat a whole crate of dog food, so there is really no need to open it all in one go)

Well, it was either gardening or laundry, and the sun was blazing and the frost had all melted by noon.

Little Nutter watched me open the shed up and he peeked inside, saw the paddling pool,? shouted “Water!” and ran back into the house. When I came out of the shed? with the lawnmower a moment later he was running out of the house? - wearing his swimming trunks and Little Madam’s goggles.

Tiny Flirt and Little Madam saw me wandering round the lawn with a shovel, collecting Holly’s deposits to bury in the compost heap, and climbed onto the climbing frame for safety, where they? held their noses and shouted “Eeewwwww!”

Darling Wifey looked out of the kitchen window at us hard at work in the garden, shivered at the sight of us, and went to turn the central heating up and find a cardigan to put on.

Today is a training day at half of York’s schools.? Little Nutter and Little Madam are at home, but Darling Wifey is teaching all day and Tiny Flirt is off to nursery.

What to do to keep Little Nutter happy?

Easy. It’s Thomas the Tank Engine Day at the National Railway Museum. This isn’t Autistic porn - it’s a live Autistic Erotica Roadshow. Little Nutter’s favourite - the Mallard - is still in their main shed and he is allowed to stroke and caress her as much as he wants (although I don’t think that lap dances are on offer.) There are loads and loads of engines, some of? which are? stripped down, as well as viewing galleries and even an inspection pit so we can get underneath a huge steam locomotive.

Then we can go for a ride in Annie and Clarabelle and squeeze onto Thomas’ footplate with his driver.

With the help of his Picture Communication System, a clock? and several overexaggerated deaf-signs, we I have managed to get Little Nutter to understand that we are going there in 30 minutes. He’s now standing by the front door with his coat on, counting down from 30 very loudly and shouting “Let’s Go!“

…and the redecoration of our house isn’t going to be finished by the weekend, either.

Today was a little bit more frantic than usual, though. I? have only just? finished putting the shit-proof wall panels up in Little Nutter’s bedroom, and still need to complete the painting.? Meanwhile, the front room ceiling still hasn’t been painted, that? new floorboard still hasn’t been varnished and polished, one and a half walls in the sitting room haven’t had the wallpaper stripped off yet, several light fittings need ripping out and replacing and it’s about time the devastation of winter was removed from the garden.

So today we had the builders in to replace a fireplace and chimney. And a man came to survey the house for a loft conversion (what with Little Madam approaching her teens like a runaway train, we so need another bathroom!)

I only have two more days of my half-term break left, and the “To Do” list that Darling Wifey crafted for me with such loving care is just getting longer and longer.

And Darling Wifey’s half-term break is next week, when the children are in respite and at Grandma’s. And her “To Do” list says “Chill Out!”

Holly is having a good day, though. When we weren’t looking she jumped onto the kitchen table and ate half a large carrot cake.

I am beginning to enjoy not being an RE teacher any more.

I have to say at this point that I loved teaching children about the theological, ethical, and philosophical? dilemmas of modern life. I spent eleven years working as an RE teacher, eventually as head of RE in a very large Catholic secondary school, and loved every minute of the teaching (even if the law did eventually uphold my opinion that the other staff involved were duplicitous, backstabbing, mendacious……)

But there has been an unexpected bonus alongside my professional switch to special needs schools: other people’s perceptions.

Introduce someone to the head of theology at a Catholic school, and the poor sod is stuck for anything to say. His dirty joke dies in his throat; his opinions about the ladies present at the occasion are suddenly complimentary and not even remotely sexist.

Have I been? Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith? for the past decade?

Since become a civilian, I have found male colleagues more relaxed, and female colleagues more willing to share those dirty jokes that I never knew existed. What’s more, making an irreverent comment no longer sets people on edge, but actually defuses things.

That and I no longer feel guilty playing Grand Theft Auto on my PSP.

The Sunday Times published this article about businesses that throw away money by alienating customers by being sneaky, dishonest, incompetent and ineffectual.

The? article is based on the publication by the National Consumer Council of a report that basically says that stupid companies are so obsessed with making sales that they over-promise and under-deliver.

It all boils down to attitude and approach. Are you selling a product to a customer - or are you trying to? separate them from their? money?

And it’s why I will no longer give any of my money to British Telecom, Hutchinson Telecom, Volvo, Dixons, Ikea…

If I want to buy something from someone and they have a call centre, I call the customer services number instead of the sales line. Try it: Sky has human beings to answer calls to the sales line within 15 seconds; call with a problem and you’ll be on hold for 45 minutes. Call to cancel and you’ll be forced to wait forever. That, as far as I am concerned, is reason enough to spend my money somewhere else.

I don’t care how good the product is, or how long the guarantee lasts. What I want to know is this: when it goes wrong (and things always go wrong) how easy is it going to be for me to get you to fix it?

And that, M’lud,? brings me to? the reason why I lost my temper in the Citroen dealership this afternoon…