Hard sell

At first glance there's nothing unusual about this picture, but then you may not know I live in a second storey flat. Even the Jehovah's Witnesses usually give up after the first 20 feet.

This guy was measuring up the windows for replacement, standing on the last rung of a very long ladder. Okay, there was someone holding it at the bottom, but the best he could have done if his mate had come off would be to cushion the fall. Sheer bloody terrifying. I will dream of falling tonight.

Meanwhile I've just shaken off the latest example of Thames Water's finest to phone me up unsolicitedlike and offer me something I already have or am not eligible for. I'm with the Telephone Preference Service but there's nothing to be done about existing insurers getting in touch, and these ones get in touch more than most. The five second gap between me answering the phone and someone asking for Mr Jeebers is always the clue that it's them.

In this case the non-eligible product was additional cover for the pipes bringing water into the property.

- Her: "Can you confirm you are the owner and the property is not a flat?"

- Me: "I am the owner and the property is a flat."

- Her: "Well, I'm afraid this policy doesn't cover flats - is that all right?"

I'm still not quite sure what happened, but somehow the conversation started as a cold sales call and ended as if I was the one who had made an enquiry.

This is a quaint habit; I'm not sure if it should be encouraged. Directory enquiries could phone up out of the blue and give you the number of a complete stranger that you might want to talk to. There again they might give you the number of a complete git. Car salesmen could visit your house while you sleep and part-exchange your old banger for a decent top of the range model. But you may find they've hauled off your classic MG.

Either way, I draw the line at glaziers suddenly appearing outside my living room window. For that, I would continue to need warning.