14 October 2017 (Saturday) - Hastings Day




As I drove home from a rather busy night shift the pundits on the radio were discussing how the first scheduled flights to the island of St. Helena are starting this week. A couple of years ago I had the chance of a six-month secondment to St Helena. I seriously considered a prolonged holiday on a rock in the south Atlantic; in the end I decided against it, but still I wonder “what if?”.
The pundits were also discussing the stalled Brexit negotiations; pretty much every so-called expert that the pundits wheel on to interview is rather downbeat on the subject. Even those who were all for it in the run-up to the referendum are now far more cautious in what they say. It’s interesting that everyone interviewed on the matter (be they pro- or con-) only considers the financial implications. I suppose that is a sad indictment of today’s world.

I spent a little while looking at Facebook. Friends are in the Scilly isles… I wonder if we might have a week away over there at some point.
I then took myself off to bed for the morning whilst "er indoors TM" had a go at tidying the living room. I woke a few hours later to find an empty house, so over some toast I looked at the geo-map and solved a couple of puzzles.

I was just about to do something constructive when "er indoors TM" phoned. She’d taken the dogs for a walk and Fudge had gone missing. I got dressed and was just about to set off to help find him when she messaged to say he was found. He does this so often - he just bimbles off on his own without a care in the world. Calling him achieves nothing; I’ve studied dog psychology – when you call his name, that just reassures him you are still around.
They all came home shortly after that, and we had a late lunch. As we scoffed we watched the first episode of the new series of Red Dwarf. Red Dwarf XII was entertaining enough, but (like I said yesterday about the Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) in many ways it was just more of the same. I liked it, but it was just like what had gone before. I suppose that’s a good thing really.

We got the dogs settled, and drove down to Hastings. It was a shame we had to park so far out of town, but the walk down to the Old Town was easy enough. We soon met Ken and Jane and their family in the Pump House, and after a few pints we wandered out to watch the bonfire procession. As we waited my nephew walked past. I greeted him cheerfully.
The procession soon came past. As it did I saw an old schoolfriend walking along with it. Paul Goring was with me at the Hastings Academy for Budding Geniuses in the late 1970s and although we’ve kept in touch through the Internet, we’d not met in person for years. I *think* the last actual meeting was a chance encounter on Hastings sea front in 1983.
After the procession had passed we went on to watch the fireworks which were excellent (as always) and then we met up with another old friend. I first met Phil Crosby in my first class at primary school in 1969. He moved to Sweden thirty years ago; it was so good to catch up.

We got home just before 1am…

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