I had a better night last night. I’d been expecting the
rain to be noisy against the window but it wasn’t, which was a result. I got up
shortly before eight o’clock and in a novel break with tradition put the radio
on in the living room.
Apparently someone is looking for a private tutor for their
child. Currently only one year old, the parents want to end up with a child
with a received pronunciation, “reasonable” music theory; an
understanding of cricket, tennis, rugby, polo and rowing, good hand-eye
coordination, good manners and a place at Eton. They are offering a hundred
and eighty thousand quid a year to anyone who will take the child in hand.
I’ve only met one person with a received pronunciation… and
that person was widely ridiculed for it.
And there was a lot of consternation about the chap who
came to the UK on a small boat, was returned to France under the latest one-in-one-out
scheme, and came straight back a couple of weeks later. It was
claimed that the French aren’t doing enough to stop the boats… Of course they
aren’t. Why would they? The French have got a potential problem in that if they
stop all the people trying to get to the UK then what will they do with them?
The obvious answer is to let them go on their way and wave them off with a
smile.
Ten years ago the EU had a problem with migrants wanting to
get to one of their member states. Now the EU’s only problem is the migrants
passing through to get to a non-EU state, and the problem is solved by letting
them go. Did no one else see this coming? It’s a bit late to pretend to be
surprised.
The dogs had their brekkie, and seeing that the forecast
storm was actually just a bit of drizzle I thought we might try a walk in the
woods. After all I had geo-business up there. As we drove I carried on
listening to the radio and found myself wondering. Yesterday I had a little
rant that Prince Andrew has been crucified in the media recently, and how much
the media shapes public opinion. As we drove the pundits on the radio were
talking about how today the King was meeting with Pope Leo I, and how the UK
doesn’t have an ambassador to the Vatican any more as the post was discontinued
some years ago. This was all announced as we drove down Brookfield Road. As we
drove past the motorway (a mile later) there was an apology – the King
can’t possibly be meeting with Pope Leo I as he croaked about
one thousand five hundred years ago. The King was actually meeting Pope Leo
XIV. And as we drove through Kennington (another mile further on) there
was another apology; the UK *does* have an ambassador to the
Vatican.
Trivial points perhaps, but our opinion is only ever as
good as that which we are told so that we can form that opinion.
We got to the woods where the drizzle had got rather
heavier. I thought we might attempt a walk, but after a couple of hundred yards
it was obvious it would have been daft to try to continue. You know it is too
wet when (despite not having had an accident) your pants are wet. We
went back to the car… and I had some defiance. Morgan never wants to go back to
the car unless we’ve walked four miles or more. He was defiant yesterday after
only two miles, and he *seriously* wasn’t having it this morning. He
looked me in the eye and ran off on the route we usually take. After a couple
of hundred yards he stopped, and looked back at me as though to say “come on
then”.
He was easily captured though, and we went home.
There was a minor delay as we drove home – the road at the
bottom of Challock Hill was flooded – there was a water board lorry there
trying to pump the water away.
We came home, put on dry clothes, hung out wet coats and
leads, put wet clothes into the washing machine, and settled down for a dull
day.
I wrote the cache page for the geocache we’d hidden this morning. Many
years ago someone else had put a few caches in Kings Wood, and they are slowly
falling into disrepair. As the geo-feds archive them so I’m replacing them.
I Munzed, got Wordle (drill) on the fourth attempt,
updated my diary with the leave I’ve booked from work, and then spent over half
an hour fighting with my bank accounts to work out why I was worse off than I
thought I should be. I eventually found I’d written down one payment twice.
Woops. Still, I’m now fifty quid better off than I thought I might be.
I’ve cracked open a bottle of plonk. We can swill that down
with dinner…
There’s so much I could have done if it hadn’t been raining
today… I’ve been saying that a lot lately.
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