Boxing Day

The bright Boxing Day sunshine tempted me out this morning, although I had no intention of boxing with anyone, certainly not after the last time, mind you she was a big girl, and I ventured into town in search of Honey!  This I, am assured, will ease the cough that never ceases, or so they say. I am willing to try anything to end this horror by now.  As expected most shops are shut but there is always one supermarket here which opens to prevent the citizens starving to death. The shops take turns in doing this, and this appears satisfactory to one and all, at least judging by the waist lines around me today.  The shops all shut on Christmas Day, all bar the Muslim corner shop, and their closure renders thousands of people bereft of necessities after the long 24 hour closure.  A grand trade was under way as I passed through with my Honey and it never crossed my mind that a billion go to bed hungry and around a million will starve to death today as I watched overweight folks (like me) scrambling for the bread reduced to 60p!  


The streets were slightly busier today, although the shops were mostly shut, and most folks still appear wrapped up in family doings or recovering thereof!  Yesterday few moved.  Any cars that passed early on in the day contained mostly folks dressed up heading to church or on their way to Grannies. Later several children on bright spotless scooters or bikes were tenderly attempting the skatepark and asking mum or dad where the 'Elastoplast' was kept!  Strangely enough only one or two drunks were heard, and at least two pubs, the rough ones, were open.  Major shopping centres had their crowds of course and the takings  from the 'Sales'may prevent  some of these closing down.  The recession bites hard so bargain hunting (for things we often don't need) goes on apace.


My tired an emotional mind has been entertained by watching feeble English football (all day), which is all my mind can take just now.  When will this virus leave?  I conked out today after the lunch of left over offal, and indeed it lived up to its name, and small pint glass of wine, I blame the bug.  My wonderful niece sent me a book!  'The Real Dad's Army.'  A diary made by a chap who served in the 'Home Guard' in Kent on the south coast, right in line of Hitlers attacks, during the second world war. My favourite niece who never gets a book choice wrong! Mind you now I think about it the last one she sent was a magazine annual, the magazine was called 'The Oldie,' and the one before that was based on the TV series 'Grumpy Old Men.'  maybe I ought to have a word....



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