Hate-filled Baroness Thatcher T-shirt: don't the trade unionists know Katharine Hamnett? I can still remember how I cringed, aged 16, when I saw a photo of Katharine Hamnett in a "58% don't want Pershing" T-shirt dress, as she met Margaret Thatcher at Downing Street. I was no fan of nuclear proliferation and I liked Hamnett's clothes, but I'd rather have had Joan Ruddock of CND fighting that corner than a bolshy fashionista swivelling her finger at the headmistress. Many have been outraged by this display of cruelty towards an elderly stateswoman; it's hard not to be, in a week when the Paralympic message of peace and tolerance resonates so strongly throughout the UK. Nevertheless, I believe anger is the wrong reaction, not least because that's the response the puerile protesters desire. All that's called for is the slogan-wearers classic T-shirt of choice: "I'm with Stupid." I recently needed to use my husband's computer while he was out, but failed to log on because I couldn't begin to remember his password. Hardly surprising, since he insists on using words that are a complex combination of German and Japanese dreadnoughts, combined with the dates of obscure skirmishes from the Hundred Years" War. He behaves with a level of paranoia that suggests super-hackers have abandoned their attempts to break into the Pentagon and are now targeting his Amazon account. Conversely, any of my close friends would take two minutes to crack into most of my online dealings. I stubbornly stick to pet names and lucky numbers in such similar configurations that my Virgin Air Miles code is two digits away from the combination I use for online banking. A quick poll of friends suggests this gender-differentiated approach to security is not atypical. One statistician friend uses "a secret mixture of letters and numbers" to form an impenetrable code; his wife, meanwhile, uses their children's names and ages. Have you found key terms from the Olympics and Paralympics are becoming much-loved refrains in your own home? The extended Pelling family had a big reunion recently and the occasion ended, as tradition demands, with a rousing session of the card game, Racing Demon. My siblings and I decided that my eldest niece and nephew were old enough to learn the savagely rivalrous rules of the game. This was our "legacy," which we hoped would "inspire a generation" as we passed on the baton for Rio in 2016.