I had a better night's
sleep last night than I did the night before; I could hardly have had
a worse one. Over brekkie I watched an episode of Dad's Army that the
SkyPlus box had recorded for me. The BBC seems to be showing them in
order and now that the black and white ones have all been shown we
are now on to the episodes I've seen dozens of times already.
As I watched them not
liking it up 'em "Furry Face TM"
looked hopefully at my toast; he didn't get any (well, not much).
As I drove to work I
listened to the radio. The crisis in Calais is apparently
under control according to the Prime Minister despite the fact
that there were getting on for nearly two thousand attempts to break
into the channel tunnel complex on Sunday night and that the security
staff are having rocks thrown at them.
Why on Earth are these
people not rounded up and taken home? There was a feature on the
radio last night about boatloads of these people being rescued in the
Mediterranean. If they were all truly refugees then there would be
families and people of all ages; they would not pretty much all be
young men.
And its been a little
while since allegations of paedophilia have been cast about, so
raking the dirt on a long-dead celebrity is long overdue. Former
Prime Minister Sir Edward Heath is the latest name at which mud is
being thrown thrown. It transpires that four police forces are
investigating various allegations about him.
I can't help but wonder
why?
Even if he actually was
guilty of molesting children, what are the authorities going to do
fifty years after the event and ten years after his death? Exhume
what's left of his corpse and send it to prison?
I would like the cost of
Kent police's investigation made public and my council tax reduced
accordingly. The time to harangue Sir Edward is long past.
I got to work, did that
which I couldn't avoid and had a rather slow journey home. The circus
is in town, and when it is at rush hour the ring road and bypasses
are used as race tracks for horse-drawn carriages. Four of them were
competing tonight effectively bringing the town to a standstill.
Don't get me wrong; I'm
not for one moment saying it was the delightful traveling folk who
were causing mayhem. However horse racing round the town never
happens when they aren't here.
After yesterday's
heroism, "Furry Face TM" blotted
his copy-book somewhat this evening. He completely disappeared on our
customary walk round the park. I couldn't find him anywhere. He would
not come when called. After ten minutes I had a plan. I noisily
started making a fuss of another passing dog. My jealous dog appeared
in less than five seconds.
And then, being Tuesday,
we gathered with the rest of the clan. Tonight we were in Somerset
Road where we played Chromecast games. I did rather well until I fell
asleep...
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