Another week filled with joy and happiness heads towards its end. The thin cloud covering the world, the chill in the air, and the leaves lying across the world indicate the time of year.
The choking cough I suffer today indicates I did a washing yesterday. This involved a lot of shirts and one blanket. Some fool forgot that this blanket leaves fluff on everything, so I now have fluff on everything! Including my throat. I had kept the red duvet cover separate to avoid more pink items, and put that through on its own today, but having done that separately I now have to wash all the rest once again on Monday. Life, as it is normally lived, in this house!
Oh yes, and I had to hoover the fluff off the floor afterwards also. Fool!
Of course I can add to the delights my Turmeric soup. I did not plan on making Turmeric soup but as I added a bit of this, a bit of that, I also added a bit of oops, too much Turmeric! The flavour, for want of a better word, will not earn me a place on one of the ten times a day, cooking programmes on television. I heard the dog downstairs howling as I ate, I suspect the aroma got down to him.
As it is the end off the week the weather had deteriorated accordingly. Wind has gathered its power, clouds gather, huge clouds gathering in mid Atlantic awaiting Monday morning, and football ruined by the wind. Tsk! The clouds also mean I canny get a better shot of Jupiter than the last one. Once again my wee camera is not reaching that far out. I thought I had got something special last night, but it was just a plane leaving Stansted and passing over us. Those lights are confusing.
It now transpires there are only three Prime Ministers until Christmas. How time flies? The shortest ever Chancellor has gone back to making more money and dodging tax, while the woman responsible for his policies that ended with him thrown under the bus in a vain attempt to save her own skin, remains planning decorations at No 10.
I'm not sure she needs bother.
The somewhat smug Chancellor has been replaced by a very smug Chancellor, one Jeremey Hunt of Freudian slip fame. He of course is no fan of our Liz but he is a fan of taking her job. Clearly he sees an opportunity falling towards him here and she has not. Liz not comprehending surprises no-one.
So, what now? Satirists are struggling to keep up here. It is not possible to write something today and know it will not have changed by tomorrow. I wonder if she can find a small war to occupy people's minds?
2 comments:
Could you not set up a video camera to record your housekeeping in all its many facets? Not forgetting swinging by your ankles from the window to photograph Jupiter - or a 'plane from Stansted.
I reckon that you could make a series that would interest people a lot more than the 'celebrity' rubbish on the box.
You can see them, open mouthed, waiting for the next episode...
'You know, Mary, I never thought that that was possible...'
As to the politics...or the palace coups....one thing is sure...with hunt in pkace no eturn for Bojo.
Fly, I have taken your advice and given this consideration.
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