March 12th 2019


What’s being going on?

Where is he?

I bet he’s up to something really exciting, really ground breaking that if he tells you he’ll have to hunt you down and throttle you.

Guess what, it’s none of those throttleworthy things, we’ve been having too much fun to actually put fingers to keyboard on the one hand and an unbelievable amount of tedium on the other hand. The right hand has been spending an evening at C’s house on the Saturday playing “Cards Against Humanity” google it, its rougher than a badgers arse, a splendid game for the lapsed liberal and what goes on behind closed doors, well you know the rules. On the Sunday we had new friends around for lunch; I roasted a chicken and some lamb to please everyone and we, sorry they, drank far too much red wine. The smarter readers will possibly see a thread, barely perceptible, which runs through this effort of a blog, and it is Red Wine coloured, there’s also a Beer coloured one which runs along side and also a white wine one, if you look carefully you may also see a Gin coloured thread. In fact it looks like a London Underground Map if you squint and hold it far enough away from your eyes.

So a weekend of fun and frolics, desperately politically incorrect card games and brilliant football from Leicester. The woods are really starting to bloom, the green shoots of the bluebells are up and at em, there looks to be a space covering of bramble too in parts so I’m hoping it’ll stay that way. Strangers have come too, to coin a league of gentleman phrase, trees have been cut from under our noses, it seems stuff does happen in the woods when we are not there to keep an eye on stuff, men with diggers, chainsaws and tractors have cut, cleared and stacked; preparing the woods for what exactly, I have no clue but will watch closely.

The birds are proliferating, ganging up to colonise the hedgerows, the frogs have spawned in the puddles stretching out along the well for pathways we walk everyday of the year. More so now Benny has arrived on the scene as he is such a bad traveller, that going away with the dog is not a very feasible option at the moment. Every time we get in the car to go away, arriving at our destination sees a ditty style protest in his crate in the boot; a mixture of vomit, wee and poo or Pooweeit, as it is now called what a disgusting thought.


Another vote for the government voted down as Brexit looms near, only 2 weeks away and we, the populous, have still no idea what those arsewipes in Westminster have planned for us. The revolution will be televised, and is but seems quiet and well behaved at the moment, a war of words less of action, but I can see that coming, people are totally disgruntled with the whole parliamentary system, and the career politicians are becoming more and more patently that, chopping and changing sides, opinions and points of view to the point of u-turning, cynically trying to preserve their dignity when all around can see they are fooling themselves like an antiquated financial investment company trying to resist the onset of computerisation once the bookkeeper decides to hang up her ledger shaped trousers.

God help us all, Brexit is coming but we have no Idea what “it” is; like some hideous unseen horror creation, following, sheltering in the shadows ready to pounce. Maybe it won’t be so bad, maybe it won’t turn out like this but the politicians are doing very little to allay our fears. To spend at least 2 years in negotiation, on the most important single event to happen in my political life time, and to still not have an idea of what we are going to settle with is nothing short of disgusting and scandalous.

Plus we are in the grips of Storm Gareth and the rain is going to pelt down this weekend; we are in Derby, do not come to burgle my house, i’m taking my laptop with me and the doors have been booby trapped with powder bombs which will leave an indelible blue film covering your exposed skin, leaving you like a smurf, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.


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