It's been raining for days - right now, in fact, a light drizzle is misting our garden - and this May has apparently been the wettest May in more than 20 years. However, bizarrely, as of today, there's a drought order in effect here. No hosepipes or sprinklers to be used, either in gardens or for washing cars, and no watering of public places like parks and golf-courses. And (according to an interview I just heard on the radio) circus clowns are no longer allowed to do that act where they slosh buckets of water about. The reasoning is that most of this area's water comes from groundwater, and it's those levels that are low. And apparently all this rain that we're getting now doesn't help, because it doesn't soak into the ground. It seems that we need drizzle for that, and what we've been getting is actual rain. The horror. (It is drizzling now, mind you, but maybe it's still the wrong kind of drizzle). The drought order doesn't affect our family - we don't even possess a hose-pipe, and, frankly, I'm glad of any excuse not to wash our car - but it irks me that these restrictions are being imposed on the public when the water companies themselves are incredibly wasteful. Thames Water is the worst offender; they account for a quarter of the water wastage in England and Wales, losing about 915 million litres of water from their leaky pipes every single day.

Ah well. Almost time for our weekly dose of Doctor Who. Stephen is frightfully superior about the rest of the family's addiction to this show. But however teenagery and snarky he can be, I am relieved that his behaviour is nothing like that of the teenagers that this column in the Guardian chronicles. I can't make my mind up about it; every week I read the column and wonder if the author is exaggerating for effect, or if her children really are that foul-mouthed, rude and obnoxious. And if they are that awful, why she doesn't do something about it.