Post 305. THE CONSTANTLY OFFENDED.

THOSE WHO NEVER STOP TAKING OFFENCE.
Will take it now.
Yep. Somebody will take offence at the tone of this post before I so much as get started. And if somebody can invoke a law to stop it being written they'll do that, too. It's their way. We are living in an age of the easily offended and there are a helluva lot of them about: they are the sort who will be mightily offended at being described as 'easily offended.' and I am inclined to the view that their extreme readiness to be so hugely affronted is another ominous hand-me-down from that land of the rising litigation, America.
If you are decrepit and desperate enough to watch daytime television chat programmes in Britain, right now you will be well aware of the words alleged and our lawyers advise. Everybody is scared witless at the thought of being sued.
Fact is, malcontents who are not trying to prise money out of you (and in my case just think 'blood' and 'stone') are eager instead to obtain an apology.
Don't ask me why. Litigation benefits no one but lawyers and an apology is just words. 
Currently I am getting messages from Google urging me (I think) to adhere to their policy on personal something-or-other. Needless to say I don't understand a word of it, but from today I shall print no photos except my own, just in case anything else is what breaches their policy on whatever it is.
The world has gone mad.
TELEVISION.
Peter Kay's Car Share.
We watched The Finale of this wonderful slice of life and, just in case you have not seen it, we thought it was even better than the original. Kay and Sian Gibson are a magical combination.
BBC Music Weekend.
A treat for music lovers of all ages. We particularly enjoyed the combined talent of Nigel Kennedy and Mark King: another magical combination.
And while we are about it...
Later with Jools Holland. It was good to hear Lily Allen again, with Jools on piano, performing her ballad Three. Heartfelt and unique.
That's it. No more to say right now.

Post 304. THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.

FAREWELL PROTOCOL, HELLO MODERNITY.

This was a joyful occasion.
My heading could have been worded 'The day after that wedding' but, in an age of weird political correctness so far as words are concerned, 'that' might have been construed as a note of criticism which (though I am by no manner of means a royalist and the happy couple have probably, in one day, ensured the survival of the Windsor dynasty for at least another century) it is not. 
The world and his wife - her husband - its partner - whatever - saw this for the joyful occasion it truly was, not least because the new Duke and Duchess of Sussex, a truly likeable couple, artlessly embodied a refreshing farewell to protocol and a cheerful hello to modernity.
Of all the senior royals, Prince Charles came across as the most politely resigned to such change, Prince Philip the most cheerful - I think he's just glad to still be alive - and HM Queen Elizabeth (together, I'm sure, with no small number of hangers-on) the least happy. But HM seldom looks all that happy nowadays, does she.
C'est la vie.
For the rest of us, the show was hugely enlivened by Episcopal Bishop Michael Curry's sermon-like address.

Bless him, I think he may be a disciple of his fellow American Andy Warhol who sagely prophesied: "in the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes." By the time he reached 'fire' and was but a stone's throw from 'brimstone' I was starting to wonder whether, at my age, I had enough time left to hear him finish (boy, did he enjoy his time on the world stage) but, sure enough, I was there for his blessing, for the end of the service, and for a denouement which had the couple riding around Windsor in an open carriage to the delight of the public and, no doubt, the considerable concern of Special Branch.
Meghan and Harry may have to face none of the real world worries that beset most young people starting out on married life today, but it would be churlish not to wish them health, happiness, and a long and happy marriage.
Good luck to them and to all the others who took the plunge yesterday.

Post 303. I PUT THEM SOMEWHERE SAFE.

THAT NOTORIOUSLY SAD MISTAKE.

I still can't find things I put away at Christmas, including family photographs normally lined along the mantelpiece in the dining room: they had to come down to accommodate the Santa Claus line-up that benevolently beams away there for a couple of weeks every December.
Well, it's only May now so I might still unearth them before it's time to repeat that notoriously sad mistake.
I won't hold me breath, though. 
MAY THE GODS PROTECT US.
From lunatics with beiief.
This morning came news that five people were attacked in central Paris last night - one of them fatally - by a knife wielding nutjob who French police promptly shot dead, and that a family of six indoctrinated idiots (mother, father, two daughters and two sons) carried out suicide bomb attacks on three churches in Surabaya, Indonesia today.
They and many of those they attacked, died.
Why?
Christ knows what these twisted barmpots are out to prove, but no religion or belief in the world is worth that sort of carnage.
AND AT HOME.

Nephew Philip Butler.
This highly regarded younger son of Mo's late sister, Jean, had to undergo a re-route of blood supply (this time at Basingstoke and North Hampshire Hospital) recently, will be returning there shortly for an operation on his liver, but was out and cheerfully optimistic in time for his birthday on the 11th of May.
All the very best, Phil. Youre a good 'un. As is...
NO DOOM ON YOU.

Jess Daisy White                                                                                                 

our granddaughter (on the right), who completed her studies at Hertfordshire University this week and returned home in time to tackle the annual Walk the Wight event today. She, together with friends, Buddy the dog (who made it to Carisbrooke), and with lord knows how many more worthwhile walkers for Mountbatten Hospice charity, started out from Bembridge at 7am and, via Arreton, Carisbrooke, Mottistone and Freshwater, made it to Alum Bay at a little after 5 this afternoon. On a selfishly personal note, lovely girl, the one and only Popsy is very, very proud of you. Well done.