“er indoors TM” ‘s alarm
woke me at quarter past seven. It didn’t wake her, but such is life.
I got up, made toast and had my usual rummage round
the Internet. My American friends were posting tornado warnings. That’s one
thing we don’t have to worry about (yet).
There was a lot of political posting this morning
following Reform UK’s announcement that they want to do away with a lot of the
disability benefits. One of the Clacton Reform UK supporters had clearly scored an own goal whilst a Cornish
Reform UK councillor has resigned saying “I cannot in
good conscience support the Making Welfare Work policy. These changes will cost
lives of people especially those who have suicidal ideation.”
The trouble with our political system is that any
given party will have one policy which attracts support. And it is human nature
that having announced that they like this policy and consequently support a
particular party, a worrying amount of people will automatically hate anyone
who supports a different party and will follow their chosen party through thick
and thin regardless of what their policies actually are.
Having been taken in by the pledges to send them all
back on the next banana boat, and to be a viable alternative to the old
two-party system. many Reform UK supporters with whom I’ve spoken have been
totally unaware that many of their politicians are from immigrant families
and/or are ex-Conservative politicians. That *certainly* wasn’t what
they wanted.
I’m reminded of a woman with who I worked for many
years who was very active in the local Conservative party. She delivered
leaflets for them at election time, she made the tea at party meetings… in
conversation she spouted pure Labour party propaganda. She didn’t believe in a
single Conservative policy. But she had no idea what Conservative policies
were. Forty years previously her father had said that she was a “True Blue”
and on the strength of that she became a life-long Conservative voter and
activist (even though she disagreed with everything the party stood for).
I took the dogs out for our walk. As we drove toward
Orlestone the pundits on the radio were talking about the use of drones in
warfare. It would seem that they are being controlled by AI and/or children and
consequently not very specific in their targeting. And as is always the case it
is the innocent bystanders that suffer. As Oliver Hardy once remarked, “twas
ever thus”.
We got to the woods. We were half an hour earlier than
yesterday and the car park was much busier. There was one idiot sitting in his
car with the window open who was shouting a running commentary of all that was
happening. “The red car has driven off. Here’s the man with three dogs,
there’s a squirrel…”.
His wife gave me an embarrassed smile as we walked
past.
As we walked we met a young family making a shelter in
the woods. It was the sort of thing I used to do with the cubs back in the day.
Sadly at four years old the kids were a bit too small and a bit disinterested,
but Dad was getting stuck in.
And then we met a chap (about ten years older than
me) with his dog, quite openly puffing on a spliff. He was friendly enough
(he would be; puffing on that), but the stink of cannabis was
overpowering. That stuff stinks.
And we walked the entire two miles in the rain. Light
rain, but rain nonetheless. Not counting the sprinkling in the small hours of
Sunday night that was the first rain I’ve seen since we got soaked when on
holiday over two months ago.
We came home. I made us a cuppa. I tried to Munz, but
the servers were down. I Wordled from “drove” to “grill”; getting
it on the sixth and final go. I wrote up more CPD.
Dull, but it has to be done
The earlier drizzle had seriously picked up and it was
hossing down as I set off to work. The motorway was rather busy, and rather
dangerous. Are the European lorries indestructible? They certainly drive as
though they are.
Again I stopped off in Sainsburys to get lunch and saw
a sign of the times. Today Sainsburys was awash with mothers taking their
children shopping, many of which were clearly well into their teens; much
taller than their mothers. All of them either looking bored to tears or arguing
with their mothers
I found myself remembering some of the cubs' mothers
who used to say that cubs was a two-hour break for them. Apart from school and
cubs, the children were never let out of their mothers' sight. When I suggested
letting them have some freedom the mothers looked at me as though I was mad.
When I was a lad, once I got to about eight years old
I would spend the summer holidays out and about with my mates. Fishing,
swimming, roaming the woods... wherever we wanted to go and doing whatever we
wanted to do. And the fruits of my loin used to do their own thing too.
I would have gone stir-crazy if I had been constantly
saddled with my mum when I was younger...
Work was work. It was certainly easier than
yesterday's late shift had been, but I was still glad to see the night shift
arrive.
I drove home listening to more Adrian Mole on the
MP3. His mother was doing the dirty deed with Pandora’s father. The beasts…
