CHERIE Blair has been taking a lot of stick for making money from the book she's written and for charging for giving talks. But, as a working woman, why shouldn't she?

She does lots of unpaid work for charity and no-one suggests she should provide her legal services for free. Her writing and lecturing are no different.

But what I can't understand is why people are willing to pay £30,000 a time to hear her talk. She won't be divulging any Government secrets or betraying confidences gleaned from visiting heads of state. Given that she expects others to respect the privacy of her family life, she can hardly spill the beans about what goes on behind closed doors in the Blair household either.

While her husband is Prime Minister, she can't even risk saying anything vaguely controversial. Which leaves her little else to talk about except, perhaps, a few dry, legal matters. Her American audiences may end up disappointed. Refund, anyone?

SEEING a tiny handful of blackberries in a plastic tub for sale in the supermarket for £1.50 - apparently imported from Holland - spurred me into dragging a few of the boys out to pick our own from the hedgerows. Since then we have been gorging ourselves on delicious blackberry crumbles and pies. They taste of childhood, lush country lanes and golden autumn days. The supermarket plastic packs just can't compete.

THE England football shirt stained with Gazza's tears fetched £28,000 at auction. When he blubbed during the 1990 World Cup semi-final it was unusual for a man to cry in public. But, since then, everyone from David Beckham to Matthew Pinsent has been sobbing in the open. It's getting embarrassing now. A new survey reveals that men "only" weep 17 times a year. Only? That sounds a lot to me. Isn't it time Britain's males got a grip? Gazza has a lot to answer for.

A CHILD'S name, particularly if it is unusual, often betrays his parents' hopes and aspirations. When rock star Bryan Ferry christened his son Otis, no doubt he envisaged him growing up to be a soul singer or, at the very least, a creative, arty type. So I wonder what the reaction was in the Ferry household when young Otis, fresh out of Eton, announced he was going to be an apprentice huntsman? Probably much the same as when young Bryan himself told his father, a North-East miner, that he was going off to join a rock and roll band. And what a miner would have made of his son poncing around Washington, Tyneside, smoking Gauloises dressed in a dinner jacket and bow tie is anybody's guess. Are the Ferry family - from miner to international rock star to master of foxhounds in the space of three generations - living proof of that classless society John Major talked about?

RUSS Lindsay, the husband of Caron Keating, is dating again just five months after his wife's tragic death at the age of 41. No doubt he will come in for criticism. But Russ was happily married for 13 years. In many ways, it is a tribute to Caron that he is engaging with life and seeking happiness again. He knows how good being part of a couple can be and he doesn't want to be on his own. None of this diminishes his love for Caron. But still, as Russ's new relationship develops, it will be a testing period for his children and mother-in-law.