I woke to the sound of the forecast rain. Many years of
sleeping in tents has set up a Pavlovian reflex in me in that waking to the
sound of rain immediately sets off a sulk.
A double sulk today as today’s dog club had been cancelled
as there was renovation work going on in the field we use.
I made toast and had my usual look at the internet. It was
still there. Some friends had posted photos of their holidays. As always those
who regularly plead poverty were on rather impressive hollibobs. I found myself
missing the Facebook friendship of an old mucker’s ex- who would regularly tell
the world how poor she was either from her half-million-pound house or from her
four month long tours of Europe, and how she couldn’t afford her daughter’s
twelve thousand pound school fees.
I wonder whatever happened to her?
The doorbell rang; the Iceland delivery was on the
doorstep. Far more prompt than we’d expected; the sound of the doorbell woke
the dogs.
With no dog club to drive to we tuned in to Steve on the
radio via the internet and I immediately narrowed the mystery year down to some
time in the 1990s. Eventually when I had to commit I was right with 1997.
And then I decided that
idiot enthusiasm always (occasionally) trumps common sense and I set up
the garden in readiness for a garden party. As I heaved and strained I messaged
with “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”. Reluctantly we came to the
conclusion that she was going to have to miss the party because of the train
strike. Several other friends also cried off because of the train strike.
Everyone asked the same question: what do the strikers hope to achieve? The
answer is clear; they will get their own way. Rather like my small grandson
when he has a hissy fit, if he shouts and screams and generally misbehaves he (sometimes)
gets what he wants. The railways are much the same. By being generally
bloody-minded with no regard for anyone but self, a train driver in his first
year earns far more than my boss’s boss despite years of study, training and
experience.
Despite the train strike we had a good afternoon in the
garden. It was good to catch up with friends we see far too infrequently/ The afternoon
raced away, but (as always) I
took a few photos during the afternoon.
I had a really good afternoon; really must do this again…
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