Ten days before the General Election and only God and the ‘Daily mail’ know which way it will land.
I’m voting in Battersea, the ‘oosbind is voting in East Sussex whilst Bee is voting for the first time, we’ve had many discussions around the table, in the garden, in the car and on the telephone. I’m delighted that she is taking it so seriously. Part of me wonders whether it won’t make a blind bit of difference whoever gets in. But I do have a problem with a lot of Mr. Camerons policies, am dismayed by some of Nick Clegg’s notions and am affeared that Mr. Brown will be exhausted after fighting to remain standing up after running up hill whilst tied to a tractor.
My weekend felt longer than normal. I picked up a bug on Saturday and spent all evening and most of Sunday clutching my stomach and muttering to Hoppocracy to get me better by the time I had to leave the country.
In the event by Sunday evening, when we sat down for supper, all was well. Although I do still feel a little queasy. The conversation landed on why tea was called tea not supper, why dinner was called supper not dinner and why supper was called supper not dinner I told them both to be quiet and eat their tiffin. The consensus was that it was a class divide…
On Sunday morning he daughter and I spent two hours in TKMax sifting through designer stuff that had been reduced to the proper price. She came away with shoes, tops and a fab pair of jeans. I came away with sexy leggings, bath salts and a huge hole in my bank account.
Worth it to see the girls face when she fitted into trousers that had been but a dream.
The drive back into London was easy and surprisingly stress free. The sky line from the Blackwall Tunnel rivals that of Toronto and New York City. A yellow sky with puffy black clouds made it look like a Disney set, by the time I got back to the flat, unloaded and sorted out my seeds from my sprouts it was 10.00 o’clock, Jim arrived just in time to have a hug before I went to bed only to toss and turn for two hours, I got up at 1.30 to eat some sunflower seeds to put me to sleep. They did, eventually.
The old man is clambering out of bed, donning his bikers gear and sprinting over to Barnes for a theatre workshop all day. Should they like him he’ll be giving his Touchstone in ‘As You Like It’. I do like it as he’ll open in Norway and then jet off to Prague. Lucky boy. he remarked that for the last few years he has had two and half weeks between jobs, if this workshop works then the trend continues. Long may it last….
I’m now stepping into a lavender salt bath after which I shall set off for LBC Towers and the last week before Bank Holiday Monday. You have a good day.