RIGHT - time to get on with life. Time to drag ourselves away from the television, those terrible pictures; time to stop tormenting ourselves with the haunting memory of those last messages; time to stop thinking of the "what ifs..."

For that way madness lies...

The scope of the horror has been so immense that it is almost impossible to grasp. It literally doesn't bear thinking about. And maybe it's time to stop trying. And I write as someone who has overdosed on just about every detail of every paper in the past week.

There comes a time when to dwell upon grief becomes self-indulgent, especially when it is not directly and immediately our grief. For many, the tragedy is still a dreadful part of their lives and will be for a long time to come - for the people waiting for news of friends and family, for the rescue workers, for those trying to live and work in Manhattan. We can never underestimate their grief.

But for the rest of us life should go on. Otherwise the terrorists have claimed more lives, won an even greater victory.

Granted, we are living in a sort of limbo. We know something is going to happen and cannot fool ourselves otherwise. We do not yet know just how we will be affected, only that we certainly will be.

But in the meantime, we have lives to lead. We must pay our respects to the dead, salute the heroes and show our sympathy to the bereaved. But, if anything, we must live our lives even more fully than before. Partly because we now know even more than ever that life is short and death can come at any time. And partly because we have to do a bit more living for the 5,000 people who can't.

Ryan Giggs said that sport doesn't seem to matter any more. Yes it does. It matters more than ever. As does the fun and frivolity of London Fashion Week. They are proof that we are not just alive, but living.

Life stopped last Tuesday, but now it's time to start again, whether it's grand plans or simple pleasures. We are still living under a shadow of revenge bombings, reprisals and executions and might yet have to do our share, but for now at least, life is the sweeter for that.

The best sort of revenge is a life lived well. Now's the time to start.

A DOCTOR in Vienna has said that people whose homes are in a mess could be in need of psychotherapy and is developing a course in teaching people how to overcome their fears of cleaning.

Actually, I always thought that it's the people who are the compulsive cleaners who have the problems - Lady Macbeth wasn't exactly a well-balanced barrel of laughs after all - as well as having nothing better to do with their time.

But for most of us in the middle, there is occasional great satisfaction in bringing order out of chaos. It makes the house look better, of course, but also gives you the idea that you have some sort of control over your life.

In times of stress, I turn to cleaning. The only time my student flat was sparkling was when I was in the middle of finals. The night my husband was rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack I spent the early hours cleaning the kitchen skirting board with a toothbrush.

Which probably explains why last week I started clearing out the garage and took seven bags of rubbish to the tip..

If the end of the world comes, at least I'll be tidy.

I AN Mucklejohn, a 54-year-old single millionaire, now has triplet sons, thanks to a £50,000 surrogate deal with an American woman.

"Is that so terribly selfish?" he asks.

Well yes, probably it is.

On the other hand, bizarre though the plan was, he has gone to a lot of effort and thought and expense to have his sons. Meanwhile this week, we heard of an 11-year-old girl pregnant in the careless, old-fashioned way by her 14-year-old boyfriend. She too, might make a decent fist of bringing up her child.

But if you had to bet on it, which family do you really think has the better chance of happiness?

L UCKY Prince William. He's spending a few days in Scotland with his father visiting such places as the Sighthill estate in Glasgow, scene of recent racial attacks.

It could be grim - but probably not as grim as Freshers' Week, which he's managing to miss.

Freshers' Week, designed to let students get to know their way around before the real work starts, was probably once a good idea. But too often it's a time when lonely 18-year-olds are made to feel even more lonely, sitting in their rooms wondering where all this wonderful student life is happening and feeling even more inadequate than ever because they're meant to be having the time of their lives. And they're not.

Even worse, if you end up signing up for all sorts of wildly unsuitable societies and desperately making friends with anyone and everyone - then find you have chummed up with the course loser/psychopath/ballroom dancer, who will cling to your side for the next three years...

Published: Wednesday, September 19, 2001