Wednesday, June 01, 2016

Home to roost

June the first, and bloody freezing in Brighton. So cold in fact that I had to give in this afternoon and put the heating on having sat in my chilly office working on concepts for cat fleas all day. Went outside and stood in the cold wind once or twice, for some fresh air and to curse the cat-trampled marigolds I planted the other day.

Spoke to Mum again this morning and afternoon. Mixed signals from the hospital about Mason. They sound disorganised. Like when Ken was in hospital, nobody seems to have an overview of what is happening to a particular patient if they have more than one medical condition. Talk of him possibly having pneumonia, but also of being released back into the wild. Chatted with Janet. Lorraine at school working, and allowing people to fix up the old chimney in the building.

A quiet evening otherwise, Lorraine and I listening to music. Beth home this evening, and a quick chat about the show. Lorraine and Beth both in bed very early. So I watched a TV programme about Euro 96, when England got knocked out in the semis by Germany as usual. Nostalgic fun, with the slightly dreary song Football's coming home, which went with it. Doesn't seem that long ago to me. Roll on the European cup of nations however. Nothing like a bit of footie.

Especially as the news is uniformly horrible. The madness of this EU referendum, with two deeply unpleasant bands of tories pro and against, with Labour weirdly keeping its head down. I have a horrible feeling that the Little Englanders are going to vote us out, which will be disastrous in my opinion not only for ourselves but the stability of Europe. Why people can't see this beggars belief.  And the less said about the prospect of the US electing Trump... This sort of thing always reminds me of Yeats: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ Are full of passionate intensity."

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