Rhodes on the end of a great drama, a room with no view and the peril of travelling in columns

A Russian convoy of tanks, rocket launchers and armoured vehicles said to be 40 miles long rolls toward Kiev. This is a fast-moving war and, by the time this appears, the column may have reached the Ukrainian capital, crushing all before it. But don't bank on it.

History tells us that a column can be extremely vulnerable. We have seen in harrowing detail the column-busting power of just two Turkish-made drones in the hands of Ukrainian soldiers. The Russian column commander needs air cover. He has to defend 80 miles of flank. He needs to keep the column moving, and how can he when bridges are blown or the way is jammed with a road block of cars and lorries? He needs to maintain his supply lines of petrol and ammunition. He must ensure his men are fed and have enough sleep.

Above all, he must try to maintain morale. And nothing is more morale-sapping than the ever-present fear of guerilla attacks. It is terrifying enough to hear vehicles exploding in front of you but the real horror is knowing the enemy is behind you, between you and Mother Russia.

This huge convoy may look terrifying. But in 1941 much bigger columns than that rolled into Ukraine, manned by the cream of Hitler's army. Not many got home.

Sunday evenings will not be the same again. We are approaching the final two episodes of Upstairs, Downstairs on Talking Pictures TV. Screened in 68 episodes between 1971-75, the drama covered the life and times of the gentry and their servants between 1903 and 1930 and it has never been bettered, not even by Downton Abbey.

This week's episode found the scullery made Ruby (Jenny Tomasin) leaving her job in a rage, only to end up as a virtual slave of the crashing snob Mrs Waddilove (Joan Sanderson). Five years after this performance, Sanderson brilliantly revived the character as Mrs Richards, the guest complaining about the view from her room in Fawlty Towers.

Remember Basil Fawlty (John Cleese) asking what sort of view she expected from a hotel window in Torquay? “Sydney Opera House, perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically. . . .” Some moments in television will live for ever.