Eton Mess, Drone debacle, Vince

Big picture stuff – Brexit is no big deal (who needs an England, GB, UK, EU) or whatever arbitrary enclosure we create to keep people in or out – Small (but more important) picture stuff – Brexit could impact badly on those who already have crap lives.

I feel ashamed and disappointed in my generation. We have raised a flag of intolerance and selfishness that our children will have to live under. We have let the rivalry between two old Etonians (one led us to the cliff and one pushed us over) mess us up. (An “Eton Mess” he says with half-baked wit and more shame)

The next step is to try to ensure that the next government, of whatever geopolitical entity remains, prioritises those that have crap lives and leave those that don’t (all the readers of this blog) to suffer the excruciating torture of more expensive holidays, and the unbounded joys of fewer funny speaking neighbours to drag house prices down and steal those terrific agricultural jobs we are all so keen to take .

Compared to being stuck in a rubber boat in the Mediterranean with a bunch of pirates, being stuck in front of the telly watching Wimbledon while the politicians, bankers, quangos, kings, princes, priests, Etonians, academics, economists, technocrats, bureaucrats get into the most frightful muddle, seems like Nirvana.

Make sure we keep our eye on the ball and that means ensuring that those people, some of whom will have voted for Brexit, don’t become the victims of the dysfunctional elite that have fucked us up ever since the idea of bossing people about first occurred to those imaginative (no denying that) creators of god, jehova, mohammed, thor, zeus, and all those other fine examples of moderation, tolerance and love. Sorry to keep harping on about it but the current trifles really do stem from our absurd belief in the notion of an authority that has all the answers. Some of us believed Cameron, Farage, Corbyn, Johnson or some other expert to be right and duly followed them. There is no ‘right’ nor is there a ‘wrong’ there is only stuff and we need to ensure that the stuff is distributed evenly to all human beings whatever bit of the planet they happen to be standing on. Once everyone has the same amount of stuff, food, shelter, education, basic human rights, then they are free to decide on their own ‘right’ not the ‘right’ imposed by others.



Meanwhile. “Vince” our nomadic ginger cat is getting more confident. Arthur managed to get within a couple of metres of him by crawling. I think Vince was so surprised to see a furless, gigantic, cat in shorts, that it stopped him in his tracks. Bobby continues to pee liberally in the house although his atomizer drug therapy should be having some effect. Mitch has yet to really notice Vince and seems completely laid back, so I think he is absorbing the lions share of cat Pheromones due to his spectacular girth and thus catchment area capabilities. Brian our farmer neighbor with the hens has found the fox hole but happily his solutions seems to be that knowledge is power – ie he knows where the fox is so he reasons the fox will no longer venture across this knowledge/ power/ intellectual divide. Hmm?

Our new drone has ended up stuck up a tree after profiting from that part in manual we had not read, ‘when your drone goes out of range it will continue to follow the last instruction it receives’ – thus if last instruction is ‘fly away fast’ on losing contact, so it does, until it meets the Redwoods of Appleton Roebuck and lands with agility and a certain grace on the highest branch. The most fun was had when the neighborhood assembled to watch the spectacle of man and woman, whose species have flown to the moon, fail to invent technology sufficient to dislodge a toy airplane from a tree. There it now sits, its metaphorical tongue stuck out, an arboreal (is that a word for tree based) vault for the filmed highlight from our debacle, including that immortal lost shot of 4 flailing, fading, human-beings shouting recriminations at each other.

Despite weeks of tests and concerns my health is excellent – at least that is how I feel – apparently its not – but I choose to ignore that bit of statistical mumbo jumbo. I am more flexible than I have been for years. I can put my socks on like a sprightly 60 year old, pop in and out the bath like a rust corroded ‘Stanner’ and lift the surprised cat onto my shoulder after only 5 attempts. No I am lying, I am genuinely much, much, fitter.

The family are all flourishing enormously which makes me happy, happy, happy. Maria has Scarborough concert this week that I shall attend. Feels good to be the youngest person in the audience. The only thing is we have to stand for the queen at the end – honestly, really – I guess there might be the odd Brexiteer in the audience seeing as most of them are nearly dead and think standing for the queen is actually a requirement for a Thursday evening concert of light classical and show songs. Still I will do it as the alternative is to standing up for my principals, which I find more objectionable than standing up for the monarch.

I have significantly improved the sound quality and reliability of the phone box project. I now have a pan, tilt, zoom camera in place – admittedly mainly to track Vince.

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