Can you keep a secret?

I successfully woke up this morning and continued my breakfast regime of porridge. So far, so good.

I got into a very dark state last night, the cause of which was probably a little straw on the back of the bloody great camel.

The house where we live is built on the foundations of the medieval wall, and the buildings to the rear of it are what is left of the community which existed just outside the city gates. One row of buildings in the oldest existing lane in Bath were actually built up against the wall. When the wall was demolished, most of the buildings in this lane which runs down to the river were left standing, and the view from our kitchen window includes several 17th century (actually medieval but improved in the 1600s) gables which have been almost totally consumed by Victorian structures that have risen up beneath them.

The gables float on top of modernised shops and offices like the prows of sinking ships. We are the only people to look at them every day, so consequently they have remained unnoticed by the conservation authorities of the city, leaving the developers free to slowly erode their significance and historical importance. The builders and developers now argue that since there is hardly anything of their original character remaining, what is left is not worth saving.

Sometimes when things get forgotten about entirely, they are preserved for future generations who might show a bit more respect and understanding. The Saxon Church in Bradford on Avon is such a case. It had become entirely enveloped in 17th century buildings until people forgot there ever had been a church there, but a sharp-eyed vicar sensed the church crouching within and had the surrounding buildings pulled down. Now we have one of the best preserved little Saxon churches in the country.

Roofers have been replacing the pan-tiles on one of the gables here and they exposed the original roof timbers that held them up. Most of the rafters had been replaced over the years, but the two massive oak beams running front to back between the gables remained. They were dusty and neglected but looked solid enough. They looked so solid that I didn't bother to photograph them for posterity.

Yesterday I got home to find that they had removed these timbers by cutting them up with chain saws. It seems they wanted to make a clean start with their roof, and these two oak beams (at least 500 years old) would have caused a few extra problems for the builders if they had been allowed to remain there.

I know that you would never have seen them once the tiles had been replaced, but I will always be conscious that they no longer exist. Another little bit of the past has been swept away in order to keep the place clean and tidy. Bath has lost another little secret.

Tony Blair was giving advice to the Labour Party this morning too.

THIS POST IS A LOAD OF RUBBISH. (See 'Unreserved apology')