As I drove home the pundits on the radio were talking about the ongoing illegal immigrant crisis. Apparently a thousand illegal immigrants came ashore across the Kent coast this week, and the Prime Minister is said to be “exasperated” as the Home Secretary is coming up with scheme after scheme which fails to stem the tide of rubber dinghies rocking up on the beaches. There was an interview with a rather nasty-sounding woman on the radio this morning who described watching the refugees come ashore every day. Given her way she would have set mines a mile out to sea… and sadly that is the attitude of most people. I don’t know what the solution to the problem is…but how about seeing asylum seekers as less of a problem and more of an opportunity? Let them work for the benefits they get?… Most of them do already (I work with some!). Why doesn’t the media show the hard-working refugees doing the jobs that so many Brits simply won’t do?
As I got closer to home I rather got sick of the narrow-minded jingoism on the radio and pressed the button to call up Radio Ashford. It called up a *lot* of interference. I had to get surprisingly close to home before I could hear Steve on the radio. And I did wonder why my car didn’t see him as “Radio Ashford”; it just came up with “107.1”. All the other radio stations come up with a name on the display and a little picture too. Is that something the radio station transmits or something the car does?
I got home and went to bed for the morning where I slept for a couple of hours. Once I woke “er indoors TM” set off to deliver stuff from the lock-up to “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”. While she was out I did the ironing whilst watching the second season of “Tiger King”; five episodes with the main protagonist still in prison took some doing. It was an odd show really. Pretty much everyone involved in the show was either trying to kill everyone else or suing everyone else for trying to kill them.
“er indoors TM” returned with a bone each for the dogs from “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”. I’m not keen on the dogs having bones; they are allowed them with one of us holding the bone to strictly supervise them. After half an hour’s chewing we decided enough was enough, but I was a split second faster in taking Pogo’s than “er indoors TM” was in taking Treacle’s. Treacle thought Pogo was going to have hers and a rather nasty quarrel ensued. I wish they wouldn’t do that.
“er indoors TM” is boiling up what smells like a rather good bit of dinner. I might crack open that bottle of red wine I bought in Sainsbury’s last night…
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