Sunday Suffering...

 

Dismal weekend so far.

Weather grey, occasional rain, yet Saturday traffic very busy.  Some folks are getting bored with being inside I reckon.  Many are now taking to the roads for a bit of 'exercise.'  Sunday returned to the quiet however, the grey clouds limiting the most eager jogger.  

There was little for it but to read a book.  This however is not possible all day, some form of outside entertainment is required just to allow the mind to breathe.  Now many question whether my mind has breathed at any time, these people follow from a long line of teachers that I have known, but after reading three chapters we need refreshment.  

There is none to be had on TV, none found outside in the mirk, even less found looking inside my head.  I could of course have restarted all those many books that I have been writing, I have dozens, some of which even reach page two, but the muse has left on all of these and it may be they will join the myriad other ventures that I have toyed with and watch go down the drain.  Which reminds me the sinks require cleaning and a bottle of that smelly stuff dropped down them, just in case.  That is something to do tomorrow.  I could clean the bike in preparation for the sunshine that will surely come this way soon.  My knees may not like it but I would like to get out on it again.    

I may prefer to read books...

I could have continued the research on the local police force that I began years ago.  This did not get far.  The latest police station, the previous two, one with attached Magistrates Court all now housing, and the 'Lock Up,' known locally as 'The Cage,' where drunks were place in one of two small cells to keep the populace safe until sobriety returned.  These gentlemen would remember such actions well.  

I started this when the aged locals were fussing about too few police and 'it was better when I was young,' and I discovered the town had an enormous police force, not untypical of similar towns of the day.  Most of these 'local Bobbies' would probably have had to walk miles around the local villages as well as patrol the town.  I hope they were supplied with bicycles!  The village postman had to walk many miles each day, six days a week, I suspect these men did similar.  

The point is that while many look back to the days when things were better they forget they were actually the same as today.  We were better, younger with a keen outlook to traverse the world and see bright shiny things everywhere.  We forget the fears, problems and difficulties and keep in our minds only the good things. We certainly remember the good things when in the 'Cage' for the night.