G OD bless super glue, the perfect panacea for the multiple failings of DiY duffers like me!

Many’s the time I have disguised yet another failed attempt to screw something together with a generous dollop of liquid magic from that tiny tube of polymethyl methacrylate.

While I do have a tendency to glue my fingers together for days at a time as soon as I touch the stuff, it’s worth the hassle to create a long lasting repair which is far more efficacious than anything I could do with a drill and screwdriver.

Take the kitchen cupboard, which lurched drunkenly from its mounting one day last month when one of the hinges came off.

I was ordered to repair it, and spent an hour trying to put it back on using the two screws that attached it to the wall.

I had it balanced precariously on a box of cornflakes and a box of Weetos as I plied the screwdriver.

But each time I thought it was secure it came off again with a triumphant snap. Making sure Mrs Hextol wasn’t looking, I then reached up to the high shelf where I keep my secret supply of super glue.

I gave the hinge a liberal daub, held it it place for 30 seconds, and it was suddenly as solid as it had been since the day it was installed.

And I was able to demonstrate smugly my DIY abilities to my disbelieving wife.

Understandably, Mrs H does not trust my skills, and touched it gingerly several times before deciding I had for once done a reasonable job.

I was able to preen myself for about a month until last weekend, when Mrs Hextol managed to drop a pile of crockery she was carrying, not only smashing one of the plates but also knocking the cupboard door off again.

It was a tricky moment, as the super glue tube was all but empty, and with some reluctance, I had to go back to the screwdriver.

It was as though the cupboard had been taught a lesson, for the screws slid firmly and securely into place, and all was well in the kitchen.

In a rash moment, I did offer to super glue the broken plate, but a withering glance told me that would not be acceptable.

The super glue had earlier been out again, as I tackled the dirty business of repairing a wheelie bin, which had been rent asunder by the gales which followed in the wake of Storm Angus. The bin had been emptied, and had been picked up and dashed to the ground by a capricious gust.

It was lying on its side, with the lid only attached at one side.

I naturally assumed that the county council would replace the wares it had inherited for nothing , from good old Tynedale Council, but I was in for a rude awakening.

A visit to the council website showed that if I wanted a new bin, I would have to pay through the nose for it – £27 for a small 140-litre recycling or general waste wheeled bin, £32 for a standard 240-litre bin, £61 for a large 340-litre bin or a staggering £378 for an extra-large 1,100-litre bin.

And anyone moving house who finds that the new property does not have bins is obliged to buy new ones, whether they want them or not!

The council also does a nice line in second hand bins, as well as operating its nice little earner on garden waste recycling, when householders are charged nearly £30 a year for the privilege of letting the authority sell the bin contents to a private contractor to sell on as compost.

As council services are somewhat thin on the ground in the North Tyne, I was astounded to learn that my vast monthly outlay in council tax does not run to replacing a plastic bin which is more than a decade old and used every day.

I managed to locate bits of broken bin from the footpath, and deployed the super glue forthwith, but for once, the elixir did not work and the lid still hung rebelliously loose after multiple applications.

There was nothing for it but to dig out my electric drill, and a very large screw, and see if I could effect repairs. To my considerable astonishment, I somehow managed to complete the repair, and the bin is better than ever.

I await a bill from County Hall for unauthorised interference with council property.