annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And did those feet, in ancient times/ Walk upon England's mountains green Just a quickie (cos let's face it, none of us is averse to a quickie when conditions are right) (don't know who I think I'm kidding with that, but too late, it's there now, cast in stone, apart from the delete button, but ha - that's for cissies). Talking shite, trying to not get to the point which is that ED has had a further decline, not sure how bad as she's unreliable and SIL is not the world's greatest communicator. I'm going up there tomorrow, with a view to taking her to the WI meeting we discovered in her village. That's W0men's Institute - been around forever, used to be synonymous with jam making and general old school worthiness, but at their national conference one year they booed the shit out of Tony Blair over his being a lying scumbag war criminal, so they're not as green as they're cabbage looking. As there's a group that meets in the village hall, within walking/wheelchairing distance, it seems mad not to give it a go. SIL says it will all go over her head. I say fuck that, if she enjoys it in the moment, how can it be anything but good? There's always an outside speaker for part of the evening - this one will be a 'games-maker' from the Olympics, one of the many thousands of volunteers 'who made it possible for the games to happen here'. It's got two chances, hasn't it? Could be interesting, maybe not. Son, who worked in a ticket office for the duration of the games, hated the games-makers with a foul-mouthed passion, saying they were a load of officious sanctimonious cunts, but then he does have a poetic soul. In other news... nah, there ain't none. Can't see anything beyond my girl right now. 1:05 a.m. - 11.09.13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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