As I scoffed toast I peered into the Internet and saw
that so many people were off on their holidays. Loads of people were posting
photos from airports. Part of me was jealous, part not. I hate going on
holiday. I like *being* on holiday, but the “going” bit is just
hours of arse-ache.
I saw that despite the predictions, Reform UK had
their arses handed to them on a plate following the Manchester Mayoral
elections and despite the odds, the
Labour candidate won. Is this good or bad? I must admit
my Labour MP has turned out to be an utter disappointment, but I’d rather have
someone in power who was a bit rubbish than a bit nasty. Talking of which the row in Hastings continues.
As I smurfed the net so Treacle came down. She made a
half-hearted attempt to come to me but I could see the look in her eye. I told
her that it was all right and that the back door was open, and she flew out
like a bullet from a gun.
I Munzed, Wordled from “their” to “slush”
in four goes, then strained my brain. Steve was on the radio doing the “Guess
the Lyrics” competition. “She’s a PhD in I told you so. You’ve a
knighthood in I’m not listening”. No? - It was The
Beautiful South – Don’t Marry Her. Sometimes I’m amazed at what trivia is stuck
in my head.
We went round to Repton and Dog Club. Over the last
few weeks there’s been a rather timid dog who brings out the worst in Morgan so
we took his muzzle along (just in case) but that dog wasn’t along so all
was well. Morgan did tiddle up someone… but that is another issue.
As we drove home Steve was doing the Mystery Year
competition on the radio. A big Royal Wedding, Kate Bush sitting in your lap
and a guy working down the chip shop… 1981.
We had a cuppa then I tidied up the garden and it wasn’t
long before people arrived. A lot of people were away on holidays or had prior
bookings, but a few of us gathered in the garden and had a rather good time.
It was good to catch up with friends… even if things
did get progressively more and more vague as the afternoon (and evening)
wore on.
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