Friday, 26 July 2019

Quite a week

A week when temperatures in this dry neck of the woods have reached the sizzling level of 37 degrees.

After a few days of barely being able to move without being drenched in sweat, aware of smelling less than fragrant (even five minutes after a shower) and when trying and failing to cool my hot little house I am praying for rain and COOL.

How anyone can actually enjoy this sort of weather totally defeats me.

Add to that the acquisition of a new Prime Minister and cabinet with all that that implies and we have a page for the history books.

It has been a week for all the 'dark horses' to come galloping out of the shadows to joust for their places in the political circus.

The new ringmaster fills me with dread and fear for the future of this battered country.

Words have been spoken which might encourage hope in anyone less cynical than I, but, words are the easy part, what follows will decide our future position on the world stage as well as in our own country.

Boris and his Greek chorus have the unenviable task of seeing Brexit through to the end, with the risk of  leading us out of Europe without any form of agreement being reached.

It will be interesting (and terrifying) to see how the UK looks in November.

Saturday, 13 July 2019

Spoilt for choice

Justin case you thought I had stopped breathing (if you had noticed my absence that is), it is my diluted delight to inform you that my life has been so dull recently that it seemed ill-mannered to inflict the details on you.

Nevertheless, here I am again, still with nothing much to say but determined to say it anyway.

In this neck of the woods we have had no rain for so long that the gardens are crackling from their lack of moisture, added to  which the humidity is (for me anyway) frankly, Hell.

My gloom has been lifted by the amount of TV sport I have absorbed in the past couple of  weeks.

Never remotely interested in sport for the bulk of my 84 years, I have grown to love cricket, 6 nations rugby and Wimbledon more or less despite myself.

Having sung at a wedding at St. M's this morning I returned home in time to see the magnificent Womens' Final at Wimbledon, and tomorrow on my return from church I will have one eye on the Mens' Final and the other on the England/New Zealand World Cricket Final.

What on earth I will do on Monday I can't imagine.

Never has my "Old age" free TV licence seemed more valuable.

Sadly from next Summer I will have to pay for it.

Oh well, progress I suppose!

Will have to leave this non-report and go to water the garden.

Back again soonish (I'm afraid).