Peter Rhodes on knackered warships, sexy Mustangs and discovering Aunt Maud

The vessels, HMS Queen Elizabeth and HMS Prince of Wales, cost nearly £4 billion each which is enough to make the taxpayers wince. But it gets worse. After a major breakdown, HMS Prince of Wales is being cannibalised for spare parts. Which means in practical terms we now have one aircraft carrier for the price of two. Putin quakes.

Meanwhile, also demonstrating the bottomless nature of the public purse, the London Ambulance Service has bought a fleet of 42 electric Ford Mustangs for its paramedics at £74,000 apiece. I dare say all the sums have been scrutinised but it looks to us envious taxpayers like a nasty case of toys for the boys, and girls. Are we expected to believe that paramedics cannot hurtle around the city in something a little cheaper and a lot less sexy?

Still, if you're struck down by a heart attack or crumpling with a stroke, isn't it cool to know that, even if the paramedic Mustang takes two hours to reach you and there's a five-hour wait at A&E, you'll be whisked at amazing speed between the two queues?

I wrote a few days ago about the mysterious Aunt Maud, the lady who at the outbreak of war in 1939, opened her house in the Yorkshire Dales to my father, a teenage evacuee from Bradford. The experience changed his life for the better but, because we never bothered to ask when he was alive, we had no idea who this inspirational Maud was.

Thanks to a reader who is a genealogist, we have established she was Maud Pearson, a spinster, a milliner and “a very kind lady”who was born in 1880 and died about 1947. She had no children of her own but her values, manners and lifestyle in a house “filled with books” transformed the life chances of my father and echo through our extended family to this day. Many thanks, Maud. It was good to discover you.

And if you're looking for a fascinating hobby, try genealogy.