Ellee Seymour

I love statistics, but not these.  Today we are shockingly told that 1,000 binge drinkers are hospitalised in Britain every day.

This is a subject which is often on my mind since losing my friend Sue to drink, as well as Celia, who was found to  be four times over the limit one morning when stopped by police.

I found myself at Christmas thinking of how sad the bereaved family of former Labour MP Fiona Jones must be feeling, her two boys the same age as my sons, now without a mum.

This weekend I am going to a friend’s party, an ex Fleet Street hack who only has a third of his liver left, but has thankfully heeded doctors warnings to give up the  bottle for good - else he would be joining my friends through the pearly gates.

Last weekend I read this brave and tragic story of young Cambridge woman Lucy Petitt (pic left) who successfully fought her demons - and won - recognising that she would otherwise end up facing an early death like her alcoholic father.

I’m amazed at how frequently I come across similar stories. This morning I’ve had a SKY engineer round to upgrade us to Sky Plus, and he told me about his family’s drink problems. His mother is a serious binge drinker, his aunt and uncle are both alcoholics, and all his cousins are heavy drinkers too. He is so scared by what he has seen that he has gone totally to the other extreme and is teetotal. I know others who drink to dangerous levels too.

I told him I could help his family, that he must tell them that I know the perfect person who can help - Veronica Callanan, (pic right) who has been there herself and is now helping others professionally. Please seek medical help.

The Sky guy told me the causes of his family’s heavy drinking were bad nerves, as well as stress. He believes it is hereditary and won’t touch a drop. I think we need to see much more education and raising awareness based on the dangerous health impacts of binge drinking, of drinking to destruction. We need shock tactics to make people realise this could happen to them unless they stop. The challenges are huge because it means dealing with so many psychological related issues.

And at the end of the day, they have to want to do it themselves.

I decided to buy a flatscreen TV with my £100 vouchers from PC World after Lord Kalms took up my complaint following the poor service of their Tech Guys.

I have just discovered that the one I bought, and was told by their staff would be perfectly suitable, an Acer X193W, does not have a TV socket and seems to be a PC monitor.

The Sky technician who called round this morning to upgrade our Sky package said it was totally unsuitable as a TV. I was hoping he would connect it to Sky, but he was unable to.

PC World even sold me a wall bracket to fit the monitor on my wall; surely their staff must know that you do not need a wall bracket for a PC monitor? I have also just realised it does not have a remote control either, yet this was going to  be installed out of my reach?

Why is PC World so useless? What chance do I stand of getting a sympathetic ear when I return it to their Cambridge store for a proper TV monitor? I am dreading it. Why is life so complicated?

Update: PC World staff were like nice pussycats, there were no problem at all in changing the monitor. I ended up paying some more and buying the very smart looking LG 19LS4D. What a very pleasant and unexpected surprise it was.

I love surprising people, and yesterday I surprised my 17-year-old son David by collecting him from the railway station after school with L plates on my car. He was to drive home.

David couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel. We zig-zagged around the car park a bit before joining other commuters. I kept reminding David we didn’t need to rush it, that he was driving a different car and needed to feel comfortable in it. As an Advanced Motorist, I feel well qualified to take David out on the road. And I am patient, or so I thought.

However, David was very confident and kept wanting to prove that he could speed along at 60mph just as well as the the rest of them. I wanted him to stick to 40mph.

He couldn’t understand why I needed to constantly remind him about the deep ditches on either the side of the road, or the river under the bridges we were crossing, and several times I panicked when I thought he was going to clip other cars. I even yanked the handbrake up a couple of times.

Only David was fine, he did a really good job, and I did tell him that, even though I sat rigid in the front seat with my fists clenched and a dry throat the whole time, constantly expecting the worst to happen, worrying about the £450 excess we would have to pay if he did have an accident.

David says he will only come out with me again if he can gag me - and I thought I was the one doing him a favour! So do you have any tips on surviving the stresses of teaching your child to drive? What are your experiences of this?

*My younger son James (my baby still) is 15 tomorrow, 15 going on 25 and has always had a wise head on his shoulders. He is perceptive and confident and as a young child, you could never pull the wool over his eyes. He is great fun, they both are.

These are a couple of my favourite pictures of my two boys taken in April 2002 after a great night at the Cambridge Arts Theatre rocking along with the Blues Brothers.

I am dreading the day when they both fly the nest, the huge gap it will leave in my life.