Monday 10th March 2025
There’s nothing worse than false promises, and no I’m not talking about the Labour Government's bonfire of broken manifesto promises, I’m talking weather. The last few days in my portion of Old Blighty have been gloriously warm and sunny, promising that Spring was well underway. It was false. There’s a snog of winter in the air again today. The weather has turned Baltic and there’s talk of frost and possible snow, which is just taking the piss as far as I’m concerned. My newly potted primulas have gone from basking in sunshine to shivering in a breeze so cold it could double as Liz Kendal’s heart.
No more political jibes, I’ll only set myself off down the road to rantsville. I’m under threat of death from the men folk, as it is, over my propensity to launch into tirades over our political class. I got physically chucked out of the lounge yesterday morning when they were trying to listen to Laura Kuenssberg interview a range of twats. I was banished, and the lounge door firmly closed against me. It’s a good job I don’t take offence easily. (Turns off Lie Detector.)
Anyway, back to the weather, on Saturday it was so gorgeous I managed to persuade Dick (whined him into submission) to give up his usual round of golf in favour of taking me out for a spin in his car. Shane was working, and I just wanted a change of scene via the great outdoors. We took a drive to the coast, expecting it to be pretty much deserted at this time of year. It wasn’t. Likeminded people were out in force, taking advantage of the balmy sunshine. It’s been a long winter, this one, and people had leapt at the chance to get out and about in the fresh air.
It was like a summer’s day. Folks were on the beach, wandering around eating fish and chips and licking ice creams. Some hardy souls even ventured to take a dip in the North Sea. More fool them. They went in with smiles on their faces, but came out looking like smurfs with blue skin and chattering teeth. The North Sea never warms up, not even in high summer.
It was a good day, and Dick enjoyed it as much as I did. We walked along the water’s edge, skimmed a few stones, had an ice cream, and even had a fun kick about with a couple of little kids, and yes there was a ball involved, we didn’t kick the actual kids. It made their day.
It’s Shane’s turn to escort this houseboy today. He’s had to go into work this morning, but has promised me a run out to Durham this afternoon. It's an overdue run out that was supposed to happen before Christmas, but didn't. The plan is a nice lunch, a turn around the shops, a visit to the Cathedral, and home again, hopefully for some afternoon delight, if you know what I mean. With that in mind, I’d best be off to make myself irresistible. Ciao for now, peeps. I hope all of those who have been poorly are now properly on the mend. Take care, all.
There’s nothing worse than false promises, and no I’m not talking about the Labour Government's bonfire of broken manifesto promises, I’m talking weather. The last few days in my portion of Old Blighty have been gloriously warm and sunny, promising that Spring was well underway. It was false. There’s a snog of winter in the air again today. The weather has turned Baltic and there’s talk of frost and possible snow, which is just taking the piss as far as I’m concerned. My newly potted primulas have gone from basking in sunshine to shivering in a breeze so cold it could double as Liz Kendal’s heart.
No more political jibes, I’ll only set myself off down the road to rantsville. I’m under threat of death from the men folk, as it is, over my propensity to launch into tirades over our political class. I got physically chucked out of the lounge yesterday morning when they were trying to listen to Laura Kuenssberg interview a range of twats. I was banished, and the lounge door firmly closed against me. It’s a good job I don’t take offence easily. (Turns off Lie Detector.)
Anyway, back to the weather, on Saturday it was so gorgeous I managed to persuade Dick (whined him into submission) to give up his usual round of golf in favour of taking me out for a spin in his car. Shane was working, and I just wanted a change of scene via the great outdoors. We took a drive to the coast, expecting it to be pretty much deserted at this time of year. It wasn’t. Likeminded people were out in force, taking advantage of the balmy sunshine. It’s been a long winter, this one, and people had leapt at the chance to get out and about in the fresh air.
It was like a summer’s day. Folks were on the beach, wandering around eating fish and chips and licking ice creams. Some hardy souls even ventured to take a dip in the North Sea. More fool them. They went in with smiles on their faces, but came out looking like smurfs with blue skin and chattering teeth. The North Sea never warms up, not even in high summer.
It was a good day, and Dick enjoyed it as much as I did. We walked along the water’s edge, skimmed a few stones, had an ice cream, and even had a fun kick about with a couple of little kids, and yes there was a ball involved, we didn’t kick the actual kids. It made their day.
It’s Shane’s turn to escort this houseboy today. He’s had to go into work this morning, but has promised me a run out to Durham this afternoon. It's an overdue run out that was supposed to happen before Christmas, but didn't. The plan is a nice lunch, a turn around the shops, a visit to the Cathedral, and home again, hopefully for some afternoon delight, if you know what I mean. With that in mind, I’d best be off to make myself irresistible. Ciao for now, peeps. I hope all of those who have been poorly are now properly on the mend. Take care, all.