January 30 - in which Huddersfield fans get lost on the way to Cockfosters

It's the Fourth Round of the FA Cup today, a time for an unfancied Northern team in the lower divisions to come down to London to play one of the city's big sides. This year, it's Huddersfield Town, who are off to Arsenal, with the traditional following of several thousand fans dressed in the team colours and big scarves, some with cardboard cut-outs of the FA Cup covered in tinfoil, singing songs dedicated to players no-one but them has ever heard of, players whose talents barely grace League Division 2, let alone the Premier League. You can tell the fans of a team that doesn't come down to London much. They stand around on tube stations looking at the map of the Underground as if it is an ancient Egyptian scroll in obscure hieroglyph, and making comments about how funny it is "none of the Cockneys smile or even look at each other, they need to cheer up a bit". Which of course makes us scowl even more.

I run into a bunch of them after work, as they are on their way home after the game. I'm a bit more kindly disposed to them than normal because they've given Arsenal a run for their money and been cheated out of a draw by a soft late penalty. As usual they look hopelessly lost. They are trying to get back to Cockfosters, where they were dropped off this morning by their coach tour. They are about to get on not only the wrong train, on the wrong line, but one travelling in the wrong direction. It's the work of a moment to put them on the right train, in the right direction, but the work of several minutes to explain what I've done, which line they're now on, and how many stops they need to go. Luckily it's the last station on the line, so they should be OK. This is how I end up travelling with a bunch of West Yorkshire football fans, swapping songs, and generally taking the mickey out of the Arsenal supporters on the train. I've had worse journeys.

January 26 - in which I don't feel like doing an RAK at all

I've been trying to ignore it for a few days, but can't any longer. I've got a cold. It's making me feel terrible, and the last thing I want to do is use up my energy being kind to anyone else. I'm too busy wallowing in snot and self-pity. At work, I'm too intent on making myself Lemsips to get the teas in. On the tube, I can't face giving up my seat to anyone. I get to the end of the day and am about to admit failure. But on my way home, I see these lovely tulips on sale at the florists - first ones I've seen for since last summer, and I buy two bunches for Lorren. Because she's lovely.

January 25 - in which I dish out post-match treats

Off to a nearby primary school to see my stepdaughter play for her school football team. They're "played 2, won 2" so far, and I am bringing the dog along as their lucky mascot. It's a bitterly cold day, and they are up against their toughest opposition so far - a team containing one girl who trains with Arsenal and two who play for Enfield Ladies. It's not going to be easy.
At half-time, however, they're just 1 goal down. After their coach gives them their team talk, I step in to provide extra inspiration. "This big packet of Minstrels is for you lot if you win!" I tell them. The general feeling among the girls appears to be that I should share them out right now to give them extra energy. And this may be because they had some idea of what would befall them in the second half. Sadly, despite a spirited performance, they go down 4-0. They get the Minstrels anyway, of course...

January 24 - in which I explore a new approach to giving up one's seat on the tube

To get round the inevitable embarrassment of giving up one's seat on the tube to someone who is not aged, infirm or pregnant, I have a new plan. I will only sit when there is at least one other seat free. The rest of the time I'll stand. So if someone gets on and takes the last seat, I'll get up - and then the next person on can just take the free seat without any apology or reluctance. Similarly, if I'm standing, and a seat becomes free, I'll only take it if a) there's no-one else standing and b) taking it would still leave another seat free. This works pretty well all day, I'm glad to say. Although it did involve a lot of standing.

January 22 - in which I'm a scrubber

Not every RAK has to be a grand gesture. Today, mine took just 5 minutes and a damp cloth. We have a kitchen area at work where staff can make their own teas and coffees, which gets cleaned overnight. A few hours into the day, however, it has customarily become a complete mess - dirty mugs, empty milk sachets and filthy brown coffee mug rings and teabag stains all over the counters. Not very pleasant. And it turns out it doesn't take long to clean it up - I might just do it on a regular basis from now on.

January 21 - in which I get the teas in and get teased

It's a great place to work, BBC Television Centre. You get to see celebrities all the time - presenters, famous actors, sports stars, the lot. But sometimes things are not quite what they seem.

I'm in the foyer, where members of the public come when they're here to watch a show or go on a tour of the building. Queuing for a cup of coffee and a croissant, I spy four aged Chelsea Pensioners, resplendent in their long red coats and medals, sitting at a table looking a little lost and unattended to. I decide that it would be a nice gesture to buy them all a tea.
Four teas in hand, I approach their table a little nervously. I'm worried they might think I'm being a bit patronising. But hey - these are ex-servicemen down on their luck. A cup of tea is the least I can get them, surely. I plonk them on the table and say "These are for you chaps. On me."
"Bless you, son," says one of them. "Of course, you know we're not real Chelsea pensioners. We're actors. We're here to perform on a comedy show."
"Aww, look," says another, "You've embarrassed him now." I can feel my face going bright scarlet. "Never mind, son. It was a lovely gesture anyway. Even if it wasn't quite as lovely as you thought. Leave the teas here. We do appreciate it."
As I'm leaving, one of them calls me back. "Actually, I don't drink tea," he admits, "So you can give this one to someone else. Unless it's lapsang souchong, by any chance?" I have to confess that it isn't.

January 19 - a sad day

We attend the funeral of L's friend Sue. It was as sad and emotional as you'd expect. Not much else to say really. We didn't do any specific RAKs, unless you count offering sympathy and comfort to her family and friends. Sometimes you can't do any more. Hope you'll understand and cut us a break.