I see the Con-servatives have announced that the country cannot afford the public sector pensions. From a purely personal point of view, I can’t help but think that in my situation the Government has left it thirty years too late to tell me this. And what do the mean by “they” can’t afford it? I’m the one who’s been paying for it.
The Government can kiss my furry yellow ass on this one (!) After all, you don’t pay for a round the world cruise only to be given a weekend in Bognor because the travel agent says he couldn’t afford what you paid for.
This evening we went round to Chip’s for a spot of tea, and then on (as part of the arky-ologee club’s rent-a –mob) to an evening staged by the Heaths Countryside Corridor. This lot are an odd-looking bunch who have acquired the land that the Highways Authority didn’t want when they built the M20. Tonight was supposed to be about the archaeology of the area. My hopes weren’t high, but I had nothing else planned - Thursdays can be dull.
The host for the evening was a strange looking cove. My immediate thought was that this individual had recently had gender reassignment surgery: said surgery having been performed by a surgeon who had no idea neither what he was starting with, nor what he was aiming for, and had merely done the best he could under less than ideal circumstances.
The first speaker of the evening droned on about a Victorian ice house. I slept through this. It was tedious. The next speaker was the biddy who runs the arky-ologee club we go to. Not bothering with slides or any illustration for her talk whatsoever, she just rambled incoherently for twenty minutes. She made great show of saying that there were ten members of her arky-ologee club along. I could only count three (including me). Perhaps she was trying to big herself up in case it came to a fight?
The indeterminate host then gave a ten minute talk on exactly what the Heaths Countryside Corridor was all about. From what I can work out, it’s a four mile long footpath, the only saving grace of which is that it has a pub at both ends.
By this stage my nerves could take no more. The host for the evening announced that they were going to adjourn for a cup of tea, and then run their A.G.M. I announced that if any of the assembled “normal people” came near me, I would bite them. So Chip, ‘er indoors TM and me went off to the Red Lion for a crafty half….
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