Another curious tale about Father Brown which digs into journalism as it was/is really practised, the family history of the Dukes of Exmoor, the ever present theme of disguise and disguises and the minor medical outcome of having a decanter bashed into the bonce.

It's a weird one but some rather interesting moments: the usual curates egg.

Because today I had numerous things to do and worry about I took a running jump at the pronunciation of 'cicatrice'. I have not to this moment looked it up in a dictionary. So if it's correct then 'huzzah' and if incorrect I say with some force 'tough'. That 's what you're dealing with here folks.

On a technical note, while I have enjoyed the sounds made by the microphone the Aston Element, I have reverted back to my trusty Rode NT1, not the first model nor yet the latest, nor yet the NT1a. So complicated!

And there we are. Another Father Brown! Just as the evenings draw in a you can't decide whether to put on another cardigan or take a brisk walk up and down the stairs. Decisions, eh?

Geo-politicians - please fight it out among yourselves and leave the rest of us in peace.