The Feast of the Holy Innocents is once again upon us. V poignant. I mentioned this to THG. She already knew. Outside, a streak of pink emblazoned across the sky points towards a stormy day ahead. The oh nine thirty five to Leicester calling at Nottingham appears to be on time. Two sausages sizzle on the griddle.
THG and I are down at breakfast. Noises were heard earlier on the landing but none of our house guests have, as yet, made it as far as the kitchen. All is well.
Two of our guests check out today at various times. The house is beginning the process of restoration to normality. There is no button to press. It is a gradual process that culminates in the realisation that all is quiet, again.
I quite like the idea of being able to reboot and start the house back in “normal mode”. A near instantaneous event. The downside is that there would be no lingering goodbyes or fond farewells. “Looking forward to seeing you in January” etc. Kisses, cuddles, fluttering handkerchiefs. A certain moistness in the corner of the eye. That kind of stuff.
You should know that I flutter no handkerchief. It would need to be a clean one if I did, obvs. Handkerchiefs really play no role in modern living, at least in the mainstream.
There will be pockets of resistance. Tributary valleys of rivers that serve the dark satanic mills of the industrial north where news from the outside world rarely penetrates and the relief of Mafeking is still celebrated on the nearest Monday to the seventeenth of May. This is a very localised and quietly celebrated public holiday that the locals prefer not to broadcast too widely in case someone in authority notices and changes the local byelaw that has provisions for such events.
Time moves slowly in these parts of the country. They still only have BBC1, BBC2 and ITV on the telly and the light programme on the wireless. Who needs more. It is mostly rubbish anyway.
Anyway gotta go. Have to drop a guest off to catch the oh nine thirty five and in order to do that I need to be dressed and ready to rock and roll.
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In other news my car has gone into “restricted performance” mode. This is not convenient. I love my Land Rover Defender but if it starts having problems I may change my views. It’s already had a new turbo, under warranty. Had I had to pay that would have been four and a half grand’s worth. Then I had rodents chew through the fuel pipe resulting in a not cheap repair job and not covered by warranty. That couldn’t be blamed on Land Rover. Now this. Will see how it goes.
My biggest issue is if I didn’t have a Defender I have no idea what car I would want instead. I spend years deciding on a car and I can’t see me wanting any other make/model. Maybe I’d do without and see how that goes. Fuel, insurance and tax costs over four grand a year. You can get a lot of taxis and hire cars for that kind of money. I don’t think electric cars are ready for me yet.
The AA man came ahead of time. Took a while to diagnose the fault but it turned out to be a low air pressure issue which may well be just a sensor. Taking the car in on Saturday morning.
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Carholme Golf Course was a lake this morning as I drove past. Lake Carholme, a new leisure facility for Lincoln residents. Better get used to it.
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The news this pm is that having cooked a turkey curry for consumption on Saturday evening there is no availability until seven thirty tonight at the snooker club. Lots of bored folk looking for something to do. It would have been a lamb to the slaughter job as our John is better than me. We are now watching the darts.