I'VE tried and I've tried, but I still don't see the decimal point of maths.

It's not that I think the whole subject is a waste of time. I can see that we all need a basic understanding of the four biggies - adding, subtracting, dividing and multiplying - if only to work out how many units of alcohol we have consumed and how much cash we have got left to see us through until Friday.

Just as a point of interest, I find the former usually outweighs the latter to the power of three, even if Tesco has had a two for one deal on Australian chardonnay.

So, a bit of maths does you good - no argument from me there. But after that it rapidly starts to lose relevance and I rapidly start to lose consciousness.

What on earth have quadratic equations got to do with the price of fish (or indeed the price of chardonnay)? And in what circumstances am I ever going to feel the need to employ logarithms?

It's hardly likely to crop up when I'm round at the Spar picking up the latest copy of Heat or in the hairdresser's having my roots done, is it?

It's not even as if I have to use any maths at work. The nearest I come to mathematical equations in my job is adding up my expenses and, if I'm honest, they usually have more of a grounding in literature than maths (i.e. I make them up as I go along).

And even then I have to use a calculator because I can't even add up completely fictional numbers in my head.

But, to be honest, my lack of mathematical skill has never bothered me in the slightest.

When I left school I was glad to leave all that behind me. I scraped through a maths O-level (yes, I am a pre-GCSE dinosaur) and an economics A-level. Then I got a job and promptly forgot all of it.

Not a fleeting glimpse of calculus or the tiniest trace of trigonometry now remains in my brain. Which is a shame really, because my son has started bringing home maths homework that leaves me stumped.

It's not just that I can't check his answers - I don't even understand the questions. He brings me his work to look through, I pretend to know what on earth I'm looking at, fiddle about with the calculator on my laptop a bit, and then tell him to ask his dad.

So now, when it's too late, I know why they make us do maths at school. We need it so in later years we can help our kids with their maths homework. And they need it so they can help their kids with their homework. And so on and so forth, until we are dead and buried and the kids are left to work out how much they'll get in the will.

And yes, I do realise that they will probably use percentages. And yes, that is maths.


* Is it just me, or is Children In Need getting weirder by the year?

I've just walked the kids to school in their pyjamas. One was carrying a small green bear called Filey and the other was clutching a rather camp looking pink bear in a frilly dress who goes by the name of John Smith (and no, he wasn't named after the late leader of the Labour party).

They both also had boxes of homemade buns (thank-you, Grandma) which they were going to pile on a trestle table with dozens of other boxes of identical homemade buns.

At home time (which, as I write, is in about five hours), I'm apparently expected to rush up to the trestle table, knocking other rushing mums and the odd toddler out of the way as I go, thrust a pound at whichever member of the school council is nearest and grab a few buns.

I have been instructed that I must on no account buy our own buns back. And that I must not be wearing my pyjamas. I haven't received any notification about whether or not I should be carrying a cuddly toy though. So, just to be on the safe side, I've got Big Bow Tie Bear on standby.

That Terry Wogan has got a lot to answer for.