Still leafleting ...

Today was sunny for much of the time. It was also hot for about an hour in my back garden - so hot that I put on shorts and a shady hat. Let me hold on to that thought, because as I locked the front door fifteen minutes ago it felt decidedly chilly. (It was also totally silent - not even a neurotic seagull disturbed by the street lights. In the past I'm sure it was much noisier when the pubs got out.) 

I had quite a busy morning. I was listening to BBC Scotland just after 9am - I usually switch over to Radio 4, but I hadn't intended loitering because I had to get ready for Pilates - when I heard the subject of the phone-in announced: the growing tendency for people to switch off the news on radio or TV because they found it "depressing". There were other angles as well being mentioned - the way we pick up news on social media and so on - but it was the idea of just ignoring it so's one wasn't bothered by it that got my goat and I fired off a text to the programme. (I've done this before, so the number is there in my phone). 

I was washing the dishes when my phone rang. Would I consider coming on the programme to discuss my view? I explained that I'd texted precisely because I was rushing to get out (I didn't say to get dressed, but that too). However, he was very persuasive so I told him if I picked up I'd do it, and if I didn't he'd know I wasn't available. And ten minutes or less later the phone went and that was me. I listened to it later - I sound a bit bossy, and according to Himself not actually like me, which came as a relief. And I made it to Pilates.

It nearly killed me today - my teacher went off sick in January and I missed the first two classes with this virus and the other things I'd committed to. After an hour I ached all over and my legs almost wouldn't carry me. And that's why the rest of the day just ... passed. I sat outside reading the Sunday paper, in my shorts, feeling hot. I came in to learn some music - we have a gig coming up with our quartet and it's not my favourite era that the pieces I was learning come from. And my voice is ... feeble. 

Lastly we had a zoom meeting at 7 for the people who will be involved in running services during our impending vacancy. I felt exhausted at the thought. And then dinner, and collapse of stout party.

My photo has nothing to do with any of this, but shows the contents of three business-like envelopes that were delivered in today's post. There was nothing on the envelopes to suggest they were anything but rather official-looking letters, two addressed to me, two to Himself, one to both of us. They contained party political leaflets, only typed on decent paper, with photos of leaders or ex-leaders; one Liberal and two Tory. And this is how they made me feel: 

Dear party officials, it does not endear you nor your parties to me to receive your junk mail dressed up as proper letters. And they all end up in the same recycling bin within ten minutes of my finding out what they were. Desist!