This week's post bag

I note with interest that the tunnel is finished and the outside is pending, and I would simply ask your readers to consider that this is how I have lived since 1998. Interior complete. Exterior under review. There is a man in Haddenham who has rendered three walls of his house and left the fourth as a philosophical position, and I say to him: brother, I see you, and so does the bus.

Somebody has put a small plastic owl on the gatepost at the top of the lane and the pigeons have formed an opinion about it. They sit on the owl. They sit on it in a group. Whatever that owl was purchased to achieve, it has achieved the opposite with a thoroughness I find genuinely impressive, and I would like the owl's owner to know that I check on the situation daily and I am rooting for the pigeons.

Your paper has never once covered the matter of the village hall urn, which takes twenty two minutes to boil and has done since before some of your staff were born. I raised it at a meeting and was told the urn is "part of the character". I have written to you instead because I have exhausted every other channel and because, frankly, you print nearly anything. Prove me wrong by printing this.

Your satnav item has caused me no end of bother, because I now have three different voices in the car disagreeing about whether the pond is a roundabout, and two of them want me to take the second exit. I have taken the second exit. There is no second exit. There is a duck, and he has started to recognise the car, which I find more unsettling than the water.

Would somebody tell the bakery queue that standing at an angle is not a position in the queue, it is a statement of intent. I have watched a man hover near the window for eleven minutes in what he clearly considered a holding pattern, then land in front of me as though air traffic control had cleared him. I said nothing, which I regret, and will go on regretting on a loop until roughly March.