I
had something of a restless night, and was wide awake far too early. I had
something of a headache too… can’t think why (!)
As
everyone else snored I scoffed toast and had a look at the Internet. It was
still there. Quite a few people were saying how sad they were that the Queen
had died. I suppose it is the end of an era, really. She had a thankless task.
It will be interesting to see how our new king pans out. A few years ago I can
remember thinking that he would be terrible at the job but now I’m not sure.
I
got the distinct impression that the succession of a new monarch was a godsend
for our new Prime Minister whose capping of the energy bills seems to have passed off
pretty much unnoticed. I’ve done a few sums based on the energy cap and it
looks like I will only be paying ten quid a month more than I am paying now.
Mind you that is still a hundred quid a month more than I was paying this time
last year.
With
some things (loads of things) to do in Hastings (not least of which
being fetch the car) I wandered up the road to the railway station to get
the train… the train which had been cancelled. The train had been cancelled due
to staff shortages, but they were able to put on a bus which was to leave at
the same time. How odd… a railway has no spare train staff but has a bus and
driver. How does that work?
I
got on the bus and amused myself watching the argument. Some chap wanted to
take his bike on the bus. He always took his bike on the train and that was
never an issue. But the bus driver wasn’t having it. The supervisor was called
over and during the course of this part of the argument the chap with the bike
started throwing it around in temper.
Leaving
the cyclist behind we were only ten minutes late leaving. There were seven passengers
on a double decker bus. We drove to Ham Street station where one more got on.
We stopped at Appledore station for ten minutes despite no one getting on or
off. It all happened at Rye where three passengers got off, and another one (in
a very timid voice) asked if it was the Hastings bus.
The
bus eventually drove within a hundred yard of Dad’s house, and the driver let
me out there.
Together
with my brother I had a productive morning. We got all of Dad’s clothes out of
cupboards and bagged them up for the clothes bank (like he wanted), and
we had a little look-see in the attic, and was pleased to find hardly anything
at all up there.
We
got done what we had planned for today, locked the house, and set off home.
Getting
home rather earlier than expected I set the washing machine going and took the
dogs to the woods. We went on our usual circuit and didn’t see anyone else at
all, which made for a relatively easy walk. Mind you, Morgan wandered off a
couple of times. He never goes *too* far, and I can usually hear the jingle
of the tags on his collar and the sound of him crashing through the
undergrowth. But I’d rather he didn’t wander off. It’s not too bad when Treacle
or Bailey go off; the girls (usually) respond to the whistle.
And
with walk walked I did what I do on most days off; I got out the ironing board
and sorted laundry. As I ironed I watched “Knuckle”; a documentary about
Irish travellers and the fist fights they had (for no other reason than that
they could). I quite liked it.
“er
indoors TM” boiled up a rather good bit of dinner, and as we scoffed
it I thought back over the last two weeks. Two weeks ago my brother found Dad
collapsed. Twelve days later he was dead. I had loads of hundred-mile drives, I
managed to have my car pranged for me.
It’s
all been rather full-on. I could really do with a rest…
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