Hurrah!

Derek has gone. Flown away to spend more time with is family hopefully. We opened the shed this morning and he was there perkily perched on my bikes back tyre as we’ve grown accustomed. We exchanged pleasantries and off he went, over our heads, through the door and off, gaining altitude all the way. That may be him perched in a tree not far away. It was quite sad to see him go but truth be told, we hope he doesn’t come back for his own sake. It’s like that in England. One minute you’re the leader of the Labour Party fighting an election and the next you’re off with the wife and kids still trying to accomplish that natural smile. Maybe if he’d gone to Eaton instead of breaking rocks in a Presbyterian workhouse, who knows. So now it’s Camerclegg v Milliband, Milliband & Co. and a new politic. Sinicism is dead and we move towards the unlit nights of the 1940 coalition where a vote of no confidence requires a 90% majority. Mogabi eat your heart out. But it’s not all good news. Some have lost their seats and one, judging by what’s left on our front room carpet, has lost everything but its feet and intestine. Yes this time Domino has had a sparrow or some such and eaten most of it. These bloody cats! Our back garden is like the killing fields! And they’re the Vietcong. We’re going to have to fit them with bells; cow bells.