Post 429. MO JUST WENT FOR CAKES AND TEA.

 A QUICK TRIP OUT WITH AN OLD BUDDY.

AND FINISHED UP IN A & E.

They go out once a week, my Mo (current picture above) and her buddy, Mo Andrews (Mo A). They go  on a Thursday or Friday morning and take turns over who drives their car. They have tea and a snack at one or another of their favourite hidey-holes where they catch up on family news and put the world to rights. Last week they decided to visit the recently relocated Farmer Jack's (now Harvey Browns) at Hale Manor Farm. Mo A. drove them there. They didn't get inside.
As they made their way up to the building my Mo suddenly lost balance and  fell forward to land on the side of her face on the concrete path. It happened quickly and inexplicably.
The people at Harvey Browns couldn't have been more kind and concerned (offering to ring for an ambulance) and Mo A, who has nursing experience, couldn't have been a better buddy. Declining the ambulance offer and the waiting time that would entail, she settled my Mo back into the car, drove her to St. Mary's A & E, and remained with her while a whole range of medical tests were undertaken. The doctors, nurses, and entire  hospital staff were decisive and thorough. There was the initial check-up, the blood pressure assessment, the blood test, the ECG, the scan...You name it, they did it. And one right after the other. They then discharged her with all the requisite advice regarding dizziness, drowsiness etc. It was text book competence.
Mo A then drove her home and joined us for a fish and chip dinner before heading back to her own neck of the woods to feed her cats and, hopefully, enjoy a peaceful end to the day.
All you can you say is thank you to a buddy like that.
My lovely Mo has a lump of a bruise on the side of her head to accompany that shocking black eye, but is her usual determined not-to-be-beaten self in dealing with it.
If you're the praying type, say one for her, eh?

I potter around trying not to be too helpless. Off to watch the box with her now.
And that's enough about us for this month.

Enjoy your street party if you are having one. 

Post 428. AND STILL AT HOME.

OUR GRANDSON.

ELLIS WAS SEVENTEEN.
This month the young man (seen above in the only picture I have of him) celebrated his seventeenth birthday and a week later, with Platform One mates in a Beatles tribute group (he was Paul McCartney), did a highly successful gig at Strings Bar and Venue, Isle of Wight. He was 'bricking it' before he got there and jubilant when it was over. His mum would have been so proud of him. We certainly are. It might be a long and winding road, but he's going to make it.
SWEARING.
In our dotage we are swearing too much, Mo and I. It's official. Our children have remarked on it.

My initial reaction was: What? Us? Surely not...
It was swiftly followed by: Come to think of it, I do use more bad language now than I ever did back in my army days. I seldom swore then...
The upshot was our firm resolve, Mo and I, that the language of the twenty first century in-crowd, and of most American TV dramas, was not for us. Neither of us is a  modern stand-up comedian, either, so we do not have to eff and blind to impress people with our worldliness.
It has been very serene around here since we took the pledge.
ALL IT NEEDS NOW.

IS ALED JONES and a eff'n choir.
Sorry, Mo.
Sorry, kids.
Sorry, Aled.
Sorry, vicar.

Post 427. DOWNSIZING THE CIVIL SERVICE

TO SAVE THE TAXPAYER MONEY?

WHY NOT DOWNSIZE PARLIAMENT?
Let's start with the civil service. Unlike Topsy, it has not 'just growed and nobody never made it.' It has been methodically made, like all paper empires are made, on the backs of hard working Indians and ruthlessly ambitious chiefs. Most public services work to the same pattern. Departmental heads are usually paid according to how many staff are employed in their department and that depends on how large the population (at the last census) for which that department is expected to provide services. Lots of figure juggling goes on and, heedless of public disaffection, lots of pie-in-the-sky decisions are reached. Incomprehensible targets are set: targets that may only be met if staff numbers are increased. 

More staff means more managers and more managers means more top managers, and more top managers means more fat salaries for those who sit their arses at tables talking twaddle.
That, my friends, is modern administration.
And who do you think will get the chop when the redundancy wreckers are let loose on the civil service? It will be the Indians. It always is. Nothing touches the chiefs except the concern for self of bigger chiefs. My sympathy is - always was - with the Indians. I was a pretty good manager.

SO TO PARLIAMENT.
I regard with healthy cynicism the picture above. It shows the House of Commons packed to its customary capacity when MPs salaries or some threat to their status is not on the agenda.
But surely, if the country can be run with just that many members, we don't actually need the rest of them. You will know who you would dispense with.
Me? I'd get shot of the entire government for a start.
Ah well.
HERE AT HOME.

GRANDDAUGHTER JESS AND HER BOYFRIEND JAMES:

Walked the Wight on Sunday 8th May 2022. The full twenty six and a half mile walk in aid of the charity Mountbatten Isle of Wight starts at Bembridge and ends at The Needles. People of any age can take part and there is a choice of five different distances (from 4 through to the lot) that can be chosen.. Our pair did the lot. Took them all day and left them knackered but content. Don't yet know how much they made for the charity, but will doubtless find out when we get around to handing over our contribution. Jess's Mum, our Roz, did the walk every year too. All the women in this family are great. And well done, James, for stepping up to the mark. I was never that good.

Be back before the month ends - if only just.

  

Post 426. PLENTY OF SUNSHINE.

 BUT A CHILL IN THE AIR.

THAT TRANSCENDS THE WEATHER.
No thanks to a demented Russian president and his equally unhinged acolytes.

Does anyone really know why they are doing what they are doing?
Didn't we all hope for a better world in the twenty first century?
Did we visualize that world so fast becoming a mix up of the homeless seeking shelter and the sheltered seeking seclusion?  I think not.
Anyway, neither the plight of millions nor Master Johnson's readily performed Winston Thatcher act will become more acceptable through mention in an old man's blog. So it's back to...

THE MUNDANE AGAIN.
Which covers just about every aspect of my current existence; but wouldn't many poor souls be happy to say that?

The customary fickleness of our news coverage is evident with the prioritising of UK local elections over war in the Ukraine, refugee mismanagement, or even Partygate.
Only a quarter of the permitted voting public turned out and the upshot in Northern Ireland was particularly interesting. I think that says it all. 

Oh, we watched D.I. Ray (ITV) Maya Sondhi's short series about racism in the police. It will not appeal to many bar-lingering Little Englanders, but there was a sad ring of truth to it.

IT WASN'T LIKE THAT IN THIS CHAP'S DAY.

GOODNUGHT ALL.