Post 437. WE ARE STILL SMILING.

 STILL STUCK AT HOME.

BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAD FOR DOVER?
Our home is located on the main road between Newport and Ryde. It is set well back and we have good double glazing, but our bedroom is at the front of the house so we usually sleep with the windows shut and the door wide open. The recent heatwave put paid to that: our little top window stayed open and sod the traffic. The occasional vehicle or two didn't trouble us.
We slept well enough, though I think that was helped by me closing the window on the way back from my early morning call to the bathroom.
As we sat in bed drinking tea on the first open window morning, Mo said:
"Oh, you've closed the window. When did you do that?"
"At about six o'clock," I said. "I thought by eight we might have the tail end of the traffic queue to Dover lined up out there."

Sorry, unhappy travellers, but how many of you voted to come out of Europe?

On Tuesday morning, at a little after nine o'clock, we were sitting in bed drinking tea. 

Mo was reading Barbara Taylor Bradford's Being Elizabeth.  I was listening to Classic FM.
AA (not the Automobile Association, the other one) was probably polishing off a full English whilst we listeners took in the final movement of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No.2 in C minor.
Mo suddenly came out of her book to say: 
"This is nice. D'you think someone might use it as a theme tune?"
"What. after Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard did it to death with their Brief Encounter on a railway station?" I said. "I don't think even the television people would be so cheeky."
"Oh lor!" she said. "Was that the one?" And she went back into her book.
Y'know, I think ol' Sergei would have seen the funny side of that. 

I MAY BE BACK AT THE END OF THE MONTH

WITH A GRIPE ABOUT MODERN ENGLISH.
Or "What's the point of education?"
Hope you'll look in