We're all papering over the cracks of the credit crunch

'IT'LL BE LOVELY when it's done" is a phrase I have become all too familiar with in recent months. It is the soothe-all platitude dispensed to every home decorating enthusiast who has spent each Saturday in recent memory pushing an oversized trolley round B&Q's plaster department looking for something called Alabastine Filler, devoted entire afternoons to a discussion on the relative merits of Nutmeg White versus Natural Hessian, and cultivated a quiet acceptance of the fact

In fact, the only other thing that's got me through the past few months of home renovation – I have done up three rooms since February, my lounge, bathroom and hall – is the knowledge that I am not alone. Far from it. In fact, almost everyone I know is engaging in some sort of home improvement activity at the moment – from friends who are renovating every room of their substantial flat from the floor upwards, to one who is just looking to rejuvenate a hallway with some elegant new wallpaper (feature walls are so in at the moment – at least I hope they are, I've now got two).

A year ago I'd never even considered this venture. Indeed a year ago, instead of being knee-deep in fabric swatches and paint samples, I was wading around in house particulars, convinced that I was going to move home altogether. Realising I was locked into my mortgage until the end of January 2008, I kept an eye on the market, got my own place valued, and sat back, waiting to make a move.

Come January, though, the housing market was a very different-looking place from May 2007. Prices were already beginning to wobble. Mortgage deals had started to look unsavoury. The market itself was sluggish.

Sitting down with my bank manager, I realised I had a decision to make. Move house and take on a large new mortgage at a poor rate at a time when the word "recession" was becoming as popular as Paris Hilton at a stag party, or renew my current mortgage, sit tight, and free up a bit of equity to tart the place up a bit.

Clearly, I'm not the only one to have had this bright idea. Everyone's at it. Indeed, if the queue I got stuck in the other Saturday is any indicator, while the rest of the global economy slips into a one-way financial downturn, B&Q will be turning over enough profit to buy their own principality. Possibly Monaco.

So if you, like me, are digging your heels in for the duration of the recession and indulging in a spot of home decor, take solace in the fact that somewhere out there, others are going through the same thing.

And trust me. It'll be lovely when it's done.

HEAVENS TO Betsy, can the woman not take a hint? Heather Mills, grossly misjudging the mood of, well, everyone, is writing a lifestyle manual, snappily entitled Get Healthy With Heather. The 64-page tome will offer tips on how to combat stress, and dispense such nuggets as "we all know sometimes that life's problems can be overwhelming so it's really important we learn to relax properly and iron out those everyday stresses and strains". You're right Heather, it really is important. Particularly when you've only got a measly £24.3 million in the bank.

Personally, I'm waiting for the sequel: Get Wealthy With Heather.

YouTube picks away at PM's dignity

I APPLAUD Gordon Brown's attempts to get hip with the kids and explore the brave "new" world of the internet by setting up a YouTube channel where interested voters can ask the PM any question they fancy (within reason – I suspect "who's your favourite Pussycat Doll?", might hit the cutting room floor).

But those boffins at 10 Downing Street really should have paid a little bit more attention to what actually happens when you post a video on YouTube. Because clever little website that it is, YouTube will automatically suggest other videos with a similar subject matter to the one you've just watched.

Therefore, at the end of the PM's 40-second address in which he asks viewers to submit questions, the first video YouTube helpfully suggests you watch is entitled Prime Minister Gordon Brown Picks His Nose. Not, one suspects, the sort of matter he's hoping to take questions on.