So back again after a week off and it is the usual state of affairs on my desk.

There are 70 e-mails waiting to be dealt with (and that's just from the weekend) a letter about a Press Complaints Commission issue and about 100 pages of a court order regarding the Eunice Balcombe case.

We were unsuccessful in appealing against the order banning the identification of her children and at one point it looked as if a High Court order obtained by the Balcombe family would prevent us from even naming Eunice Balcombe in further stories.

Imagine trying to report the proceedings against Peter Balcombe when we couldn't even identify the woman he is accused of killing?

Ironically, Eunice's family was technically in breach of the court order preventing the identification of the children. The order of service for her funeral, produced by the Gazette for the family, contained their names and pictures. In the very strictest sense, this could have been construed as publishing.

Anyway I had a nice week away, thanks for asking. Although I did seem to spend a great deal of it waiting for a plumber to turn up.

I had arranged a fortnight ago for him to come and look at our central heating. I waited in all day Tuesday, as arranged, and there was no sign of him. I rang him at least four times on his mobile but inevitably there was no answer.

Later I tried again, this time using my mobile so a different number came up on his phone and that did the trick because he answered it.

"Sorry I've been out all day on emergency callouts," he said, in what seemed like a well-practised tone.

"Couldn't you have phoned me?" I asked, not unreasonably I thought.

"Oh, I mislaid your number," he said, with the same familiar reposte.

What I should have done then was to point out that, had he looked at the missed calls on his mobile, or listened to the increasingly shouty messages on his voice mail, he would have had my number, but I didn't.

I should have told him I would be seeking the services of another plumber but I didn't. Instead I said it didn't matter that I had wasted a whole day of my week off and could he come the next day?

"Sure, he said suspiciously quickly, "about 1.30pm?"

Looking back now, we both knew deep down his monkey wrench would not be darkening my doorstep the next day, but like the eternal optimist I am, I made sure I was at home before the appointed hour.

And I was still there four hours later, leaving ever more desperate messages on his answerphone, all to no avail.

I've still not heard from him yet. For all he knows, I could be up to my ears in water, vainly clinging to the light fittings to stay afloat.

It would, of course be unprofessional and unfair to name this errant plumber. But only as unprofessional and unfair as he was last Tuesday and Wednesday, so make a note, it was Advanced Plumbing Services of Chippenham.

If by some chance you are reading this while waiting for Mr Advanced to turn up, I'd go back to the Yellow Pages if I were you...