I think I am suffering from PMSD. (Post Mauritius Stress Disorder) Hence my failure to burst into print for four days. It has also been a hectic last week of School term so I have been pulled in all directions. OK, pathetic excuses out of the way. Friday 13th is looking like a seriously unlucky day for Jeremy Corbyn and the British Labour Party. I have just read a quote from Alan Johnson, the former Labour Home Secretary, a very solid citizen and respected member of “Old Labour”. Allow me to share it with you, because you do not often hear politicians speak quite so frankly:
“The Corbynistas will make an argument that victory is a bourgeois concept and the only goal for true socialists is glorious bloody defeat and now we just had another one of them….but it’s Corbyn. We knew that in Parliament. We knew he was incapable of leading. WE KNEW HE WAS WORSE THAN USELESS”. Blimey. It seems the electorate might have got it right. The next few months and years are going to be fascinating. Who is the real Boris Johnson. We are about to find out.
I learnt yesterday, whilst walking Callie (The Whippet) along Eastbourne promenade into a thirty mph wind and driving rain, that November in Sussex was the wettest since 1910. That is wet and it continues to deluge almost daily. Would someone please tell Him (or Her) upstairs that we do not need anymore please? I wonder if they were complaining about climate change in 1910? Probably not. From a personal point of view, as I am now on the home run, I suspect that whatever Greta Thunberg and her supporters achieve will not make a blind bit of difference to me. I fear there is only one solution. Emigrate to South Africa or somewhere equally hot, dry and beautiful. Is it too late to become a Park Ranger? That is what I wanted to do aged sixteen and after my recent visit to the Kruger National Park it would be a wonderful way to prepare for my trip to the Pearly Gates. (If that is not being too presumptuous!)
I hate to conclude on a serious and sad note, but something happened two nights ago that bears telling. A group of friends were out walking with their Collie. The dog ventured onto a road and was hit by a car. Contrary to legal and moral requirements the driver sped off. The Collie was hurt but no one knows how badly. It disappeared and despite desperate searches could not be found. When I went to vote yesterday morning there were posters up all around pleading for information. On my afternoon walk a distressed young woman was running along the Prom searching every nook and cranny, calling out the dog’s name and asking every passing stranger if they had seen it. The poor creature must be holed up somewhere, hurt, possibly dying, maybe already dead. I tell this very sad story only to highlight the heinous crime of ‘hit and run’.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 