smokingboot

It worked! Little girl happy, adults happy too. Good food, good wine, great company, capybaras and dinosaurs, a splendid weekend all in all. And I got to look at Bidford-on-Avon as we passed pretty houses backing onto the river. For a moment I thought 'Hmmm...' It's charming for sure, but English small towns are often full of English small minds, and I'm worn out with those. The election swings into gear, and suddenly Theresa is the only person who can see us through the hazardous enterprise of Brexit (makes me wonder why, if it is so very hazardous, people voted for it in the first place) and/or Jezzah will make it work in proper socialist style...a mighty hope considering he hasn't made anything else work. He almost entirely queered his pitch with me by being an elusive outer whilst giving a lacklustre yay to the EU when pressed; But the three-line whip was the last straw, an irredeemably stupid thing to do. I have Corbynista friends who are frustrated by my determination to have naught to do with him, but there you go.

In the meantime, the day is bright, the apple tree is blooming, I have a new laptop courtesy of Larians, and my job really is to collate wedding photos for Mum. Hopefully there is somewhere in Granada that will print them off from a memory stick.

See you on the other side DW. Still feels weird.