I have finally mowed the lawn.
Cleared the woodshed.
My mothers three plants have just about survived the coldest of times. although I’m not too happy about the Rosemary.
I have taught the old man how to make soup, and by gum he’s good at it, we’ve been dining off Squash soup with turmeric and chili.
Last night I bought up a whole Italian meal from Camisa in Soho. The dawter and I drove home and five of us dug into – artichokes,zucchini, aubergine and freshly made pastas.
Not to mention the best Italian Jammy Dodgers ever.
The huge block of Parmisan is sitting in the fridge ready for grating, or is it shaving?
My feet are cold but I am still alive.
I try and get to this blog but I have so much fiddling & farting around to do that by the time I’m ready to write I’m falling asleep over the computer.
Whilst pruning the dead plants my next door neighbour came running into the garden to tell me about Mrs Thatcher’s death.
Watching footage from the 80’s made me cry. Watching the pain of the miners, watching the excesses of the bankers. When the Tories got in I had just started working in television,big shoulders were all the rage, and WALL STREET was the hit film. Over the years we watched mobiles get smaller and communities die.
The politicians don’t get it right. Isn’t it time we all stood up and spoke of humanitarianism. Of Justice and compassion. Isn’t it time we chose egalitarianism over elitism. Cos the divide between the ‘thems-that-have’ and the ‘thems-that- have-not’ is getting so wide that we’ll all fall down the chasm.
Today, I can’t say anything that the pundits haven’t already said. From Russell Brand to Andrew Marr everybody has their own opinions about The Iron Lady.
An old lady of 87 died lonely in a fancy hotel in London. Neither of her children beside her. She reaped what she sowed. Coming to the end of a life without friends or family. Her own big society having dwindled and shrunk to but one carer and a heap of flunkies.
May she rest in peace.