A Not Uneventful Day

The trouble with not posting on a blog for while is that I have too much to say, too much to record, and sometimes, make that often, it's easier to draw a line under the passed days and start from wherever I am now.

I have always failed at keeping a paper diary for the same reason. Somehow a blog feels more forgiving. If this survives beyond me, and future family historians try to understand what great-to-the-power-of n Aunt Isobel's life was like, they may well suspect that the silent days were ones where I had nothing more to say than that I got up, had breakfast, fed the cat and frittered away the hours. If so, they will be wrong. In my head, walking along, on the bus, queuing in shops, I compose posts that are never written; posts where I muse on life's beauties and inequities, posts where I opine that the NHS could probably save a small fortune in anti depression medication if only IDS and Michael Gove were barred from speaking in public, or preferably at all, posts where I rail against cruelty to all animals, human and otherwise, posts when I realise that true happiness lies in the perfect poached egg.

Also posts about the Daily Mail, a paper I would go a long way not to read, but whose outrages are often reported elsewhere. A paper from which one might catch something nasty ending in ism. Does it have a purpose in the grand scheme of thing? Perhaps just to remind us of what hell might be like. I suppose Paul Dacre must have his uses, but so far I have not devined what they are. Apparently his staff have suggested his shoes never wear out as he goes from carpeted office to chauffeured car to home with barely any contact with the pavement, or reality. I'd like to think he pays enormous taxes that go towards funding the NHS, but I have a hunch he will have his money stashed in some offshore enterprise that means the exchequer sees little of what he is paid.

The Tory party has not learned from the Strong and Stable backlash, and is still in love with repeating alliterative phrases. The current fave seems to be stability and certainty, though for variety they are happy to use the words singly, then join them like cymbals for effect. I don't know how this goes down with other listeners, but I find I cannot remember a single word of what they have said other than the alliterative pairings, and those I translate as blah blah blah, a cover up for not really knowing what they are talking about. If they can't be bothered to make proper arguments why on earth should the electorate be bothered to listen to them, far less take them seriously?

Last night I caught up with the latest subject of Who do you think you are? For a social history junkie this is compulsive viewing even when I do not know the person going through the tree. This latest was a man called Craig Revel Hall. At least I think that was his name. He's a judge on Strictly it seems, but as I don't watch it he could move in next door to me and be guaranteed privacy and anonymity. He's originally from Australia. The story was a good one, but my own little thrill came when he met up with a clog dancing historian at the Lord Nelson pub in Sydney. I was there! I said excitedly to MasterB who seemed quite underwhelmed by my vicarious brush with fame.

On the way up to das Boot today, for I am once more afloat, I switched between Radio 4 and CDs. IDS, or someone who sounded just like him, was talking about Brexit and I had to switch back to music, especially after he said the British people. Honestly, there should be fines for people who persist in this kind of thing. When Radio 4 became safe again with Moneybox Live, which the late, great Linda Smith described as the worst band she'd ever heard, I hung on, knowing that the Dead Ringers repeat must be next. I used to love this show, but it has slipped down my personal ratings. However I may have to start listening regularly as the Trump stuff is great, and they have him down to a T. I giggled my way along the A11, particularly appreciative of Kellyann Conway being described as Barbie's evil twin.

As we made our way one the bumpy road to the marina I stopped to buy six eggs from Janet. Last time I was east she was holiday in France. We had a bit of a catch up, one of her retrievers mouthed my hand, and I said she should come to das Boot. Not that the weather is seasonal. July seems to have lost its way all of a sudden, but it's dry, warm enough, and the garden canes I have put in the window frames mean I can sleep easy without MasterB taking himself off for an adventure which could end with him in a watery grave. I have lent the life jacket to a Lhasa Apso called Willow, eaten a good dinner and MasterB has had a pee ashore. Today's paper has been fairly thoroughly read, though I have come unstuck in the quick crossword, two men are studying a boat which I have learned is for sale, and the geese with their almost grown goslings are in the field.

So not a day that will be recorded in the history books, but no means one that has been idle or uneventful.


18 thoughts on “A Not Uneventful Day

  1. I enjoyed your post immensely. I understand that Kellyann Conway was a respected member of the political scene – not an airhead that she appears to be. I do believe she has sold her soul to the devil, however. In an effort to defend Trump (I can’t image the motive except maybe a very big paycheck) she has made herself into a fool. Many on mainstream cable news/political talk refuse to interview her because of her lying. It is amazing how the Trump campaign story of suspected collusion with the Russians is unfolding and I want to listen for the latest shoe to drop – but at the same time have become very frightened with the number of people (according to polls and interviews) who don’t know anything about this story, or think it is a “nothing burger,” and remain loyal to Trump. And I become even more frightened at the lengths to which the Republicans in Congress are willing to make excuses for Trump’s inexcusable behavior. I am concerned about the health of our democracy, Isobel, and I don’t react like this very often. Over 50% of Republicans believe Russia is our ally and Putin is our friend. These are people who are avid gun-rights people (Putin would never allow Russians to carry guns), and they lean toward conservative Christianity that strongly informs their lives (Trump is anything but religious and very immoral and Russia is primarily atheist). Go figure. Sorry to take over your post – I need to vent but have decided not to on my blog because of the tensions here in the states.

    • Vent away m’dear. You are always interesting. I first saw KC on the news about a year ago and found her very alarming. The Trump story has its parallels with Brexit, with even some politicians who were in favour of leaving wondering how we can get out of it, but worried about the backlash from the people who voted leave because they felt the politicians weren’t listening to them. I am sure that will sound familiar. So to avoid that backlash we have have to keep walking towards disaster. Thank goodness for perfect poached eggs.

  2. I watched some of a CNN interview with Kellyann Conway this week. She refused to stop talking or accusing CNN of fake reporting. The interview lasted for about 30 minutes. You wouldn’t get that on the BBC πŸ˜€

    Enjoy the rest of your trip!

    • I am interested that my long(ish) post has generated two comments about KC. Obviously I am not the only person who finds her bizarre. But you watch CNN? Seriously? Why would you do that?

      • I don’t watch CNN but I saw an article about how ridiculous this interview had been so I watched about 10 mins with a slack jaw!

        She is being paid to do a job, she has a remarkable ability to deflect and twist, but she has definitely sold her soul to the devil.

  3. Isobel, thank you for knowing the difference between “its” and “it’s.” Even “respectable” unedited journalists over here don’t (I suppose I should say dont). Drives me mad. Or — I’m driven mad by dijit
    and co. (can’t bring myself to write his name. My political cohort calls him #45 but I hate that because it reminds me he’s the 45th president and that can’t be possible). Can’t decide which is worse: The congenital inability to understand the difference between a possessive apostrophe and a contraction, or the end of democracy as we know it. That’s how bad it is over here in my head.

    Last night Rav left the tent, alas. I’m rooting for Andrew or Tom but I just don’t know whether they’re going to pull it off. Benjamina and Anne look good. DON’T TELL ME! Wonder where I can find a fougasse over here in Arkansas. Like forget it.

    • Predictive text and auto correction are often to blame for those rogue apostrophes, which here we call them them the grocers’ apostrophe as so often you see signs for apple’s etc.
      I think you have to accept DT is your president. It’s the first tsp of working out how the hell it happened (again like Brexit) and remedying the situation.
      Your segue into Bake Off was so unsignposted I could not at first think what you were talking about. I shan’t reveal who wins, but there are quite a few twists and turns to go yet!

  4. Starting my comment by saying Kellyanne Conway is paid to do a job. We not being paid to listen to her. Might as well move along as there is nothing to see here.

    I much prefer the recounting of your excellent progress to Das Boot and settling in to outwit MasterB via new confinements.

    Got to say you sound very “retired” in spite of another very hot London summer. Is this going to be the endgame? Afloat isn’t a bad option.

    • Though there are many people I am happy to listen to and not be paid!

      Retired? Well. If working fourteen days in a row me then making a break is retired yes I am, though I am hoping that when I hang up my work trousers it’s going to be quieter than that. Perhaps it is due to the relaxing influence of being away, taking time out. I left my flat in a mess, promising it and myself I shall sort it in the week. Then next weekend I m off on my official holidays to spend time at Cousin’s in Ireland.

  5. What a fabulous post.
    Stability and certainty. How utterly ridiculous. I am both amused and infuriated by the way politicians think that if they say the words that describe a state of being further from reality than one could ever imagine, then we will assume that they can make it happen.
    I love your analogy with cymbals!

    I will, however, take Izzy with you on your assumption that and generations to come, your family will assume that on the days you didn’t post, you were doing anything. I would think it’s more likely that they would imagine the reverse. “What a shame great great great aunt Isobel didn’t post more often” they will say – she must’ve been very busy.

  6. This is rather long. I think it’s worth watching. It’s from 2013. It does have a major flaw – I will give you only one guess, after you’ve watched it.

    • I shall probably have to watch this at home as the signal here means it is breaking up and buffering more than playing. I read your comments backwards, so the typos were fine, though I was worried about what you were taking issue with me over! Thanks for the kind words. I don’t know if this blog is future proofed. Maybe I should transfer to my own site if I want the descendants to be appalled by how much I committed to the blogosphere. They will have to be fairly dedicated family historians to read everything I have here.

    • It’s that sort of internal dialogue and commentary of the day isn’t it? Somehow, walking, cycling, queuing and washing up are particularly conducive:)

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