Pasties and fools
Wide awake at 6:30am and eventually I got dressed and after leaving a note for Mel and Craig and headed back to Brighton. Beautiful morning, and was home a little before ten enjoying the sunny trundle through the countryside, reading the paper. The Observer today carried an excellent April Fool article that lead singer of the famously drug-fuelled Happy Mondays, Shaun Ryder, was now an adviser to the Tory Party. After breakfast with Lorraine and Betty, I simply went back to bed.
Marvelling at the terrible week Prime Minister David Cameron has had. One strand of the debacle (which also involves sleasily selling access to the PM at Number 10 for donors to the Tory Party who are then able to influence policy) revolves around the humble cornish pasty.
The government has decided to slap tax on hot food, so a man buying a hot pasty will pay 20% more for a hot pasty than a cold one. The (not just April) fool then claimed that he liked pasties, and bought one at York train station only last week. This was done to suggest that the millionaire aristocrat was actually a man of the people. As the week progressed it became clear that the York station pasty shop had been closed for five years, and the whole thing was a lie.
The afternoon taken up with fish business. Lorraine and I bought new plants, and I changed the pink gravel in Betty's aquarium, chosen when she was 16, for something a bit more natural. Happily walking about with buckets, while Lorraine cooked a Sunday roast chicken.
Betty had been filming her yellow plastic duck Beans in various Brighton scenes with Amy. And they came back for a roast chicken dinner with candles. Amy doing well in her music course up in Chester (where I'd been last week with Carl, Jayne and Ellie).
Rather revelling in not drinking today. Very good to slump on the gold sofa on Sunday night with my Lorraine who, rather annoyingly, I seem to miss a good deal when I am not with.
Wide awake at 6:30am and eventually I got dressed and after leaving a note for Mel and Craig and headed back to Brighton. Beautiful morning, and was home a little before ten enjoying the sunny trundle through the countryside, reading the paper. The Observer today carried an excellent April Fool article that lead singer of the famously drug-fuelled Happy Mondays, Shaun Ryder, was now an adviser to the Tory Party. After breakfast with Lorraine and Betty, I simply went back to bed.
Marvelling at the terrible week Prime Minister David Cameron has had. One strand of the debacle (which also involves sleasily selling access to the PM at Number 10 for donors to the Tory Party who are then able to influence policy) revolves around the humble cornish pasty.
The government has decided to slap tax on hot food, so a man buying a hot pasty will pay 20% more for a hot pasty than a cold one. The (not just April) fool then claimed that he liked pasties, and bought one at York train station only last week. This was done to suggest that the millionaire aristocrat was actually a man of the people. As the week progressed it became clear that the York station pasty shop had been closed for five years, and the whole thing was a lie.
The afternoon taken up with fish business. Lorraine and I bought new plants, and I changed the pink gravel in Betty's aquarium, chosen when she was 16, for something a bit more natural. Happily walking about with buckets, while Lorraine cooked a Sunday roast chicken.
Betty had been filming her yellow plastic duck Beans in various Brighton scenes with Amy. And they came back for a roast chicken dinner with candles. Amy doing well in her music course up in Chester (where I'd been last week with Carl, Jayne and Ellie).
Rather revelling in not drinking today. Very good to slump on the gold sofa on Sunday night with my Lorraine who, rather annoyingly, I seem to miss a good deal when I am not with.
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