THERE were tears before bedtime this week after the youngest boy - who is single handedly keeping this column afloat at the moment - found out that Jeremy Clarkson was no longer doing Top Gear. He's a big fan. He's also an ex-tractor fan for lovers of jokes about fans.

We discussed the whole sorry saga of how he - Jeremy Clarkson not the boy - punched someone in a hotel near Hawes because there was no steak for his dinner, but it did no good.

"But won't James and Hammond still be in it? They did nothing wrong," he sobbed.

One of his brothers then let it slip that all three were making a new car show that would only appear on Amazon Prime.

Obviously he then asked if we could get Amazon Prime. Obviously I said 'no'.

Yes the idea of one-hour deliveries appeal to me but I'm not convinced they will be able to deliver so quickly to the Dales from their base in law-tax Luxembourg.

I haven't got a lot else to say this week so I thought I would give in to public pressure and finally reveal my favourite domestic chores.

I've previously mentioned my keenness to sort the odd socks box but it's a subject that deserves revisiting.

Oh the joy of taking lots of odd socks and finding their partners. There are probably emojis which can describe that feeling

I'll give it a go with proper words. You have a box of disorder, a box of uselessness and, using the skills of pairing picture cards you acquired as a toddler, you pair, you match, you seek, you find and you bring about order. Out of chaos comes paired socked that allow the family to leave the house with a full set of matching under garments.

Then we have taking the bin out. I have two main fears in life - drowning in a overturned car in a roadside ditch in East Anglia and being invited to appear on a Channel 5 documentary about hoarders not because we hoard stuff but because we haven't tided up for a couple of days and well-meaning visitors thinks we need the urgent help of television producers. To address this fear I like to take car loads of household junk to the recycling centre, or if I haven't got time, just empty the kitchen bin. I deal with the other fear by never going to East Anglia.