Caged In

Nothing like a bit of damp weather to extinguish that blitz spirit. This is all a bit shit, isn’t it? We’d decided to sign up to join the volunteers on the previous day; having signed up as some sort of transport responder, I found it was NHS Engerland. I hope I don’t have to go and pick someone up in Tunbridge Wells.
And the StA reunion has now been officially booted into touch. The ba’s on the slates, indeed. 
So, with a shitty wet cold day, I briefly ventured out for exercise and sorted all the manuals and paperwork in the desk in the boat. And measured up stuff for the new masthead light. 
And then back for a matinee - we started on Anthropoid but canned it after twenty minutes before settling to watch O.J.: Made in America which neither of us had seen. At nearly eight hours long, it’s been handily chunked up into five episodes by those nice people at Amazon.
At 8pm there was a plan to applaud from the windows like mediterranean types do. That’ll never bloody work here, sez I. We’re not those sorts of people. Well actually, I’ve got to admit, grudgingly, that it was quite fun to do, hanging out the windows and all the neighbours at their doors. I’m a stranger in my own land. We'll be building roadside shrines next. The rot set in with the death of that Princess Di which gave the green light to hideously public outpourings of grief. All quite unseemly.