Ye gods, will this damnable winter never end? Once again I sit here at my desk aboard the Cardinal and the wind is howling outside, thumping against the boat for all that it is worth.
According to Her Majesty’s Meteorological Office it is supposed to drop to freezing again overnight too. I’ve just run out an extra line at the bow, since that is taking the brunt of the gusts. I can’t think of any sane manoeuvre that would get us back to base should the bow come loose and send us across the canal, and I don’t want to find out! I shall sleep better with the spare lines doing something useful.
We did have a spot of sunshine here today. My solar set-up is designed not so much for high power as it is designed to stretch the seasons, to work in light levels where a more fussy system might not, and the panels indeed did their work with aplomb today. A week’s worth of laundry done, all on solar power, and the overnight deficit was convincingly replaced.
One mini-highlight to the day was the appearance of this lovely beastie. Some sort of steam locomotive, hauling carriages and wotnot. Rather in the manner of Toad of Toad Hall I sat back on my haunches, wore a large grin and muttered “choo choo” under my breath.
You can tell what a grotty day it has been from the photographs – odd sort of light, overcast, confused clouds, that sort of thing.
Much rather hear the whistle and whoosh of a steam locomotive than I would one of these rotten “Virgin” things. The Virgins have a terrible, squeal-laden noise about them.
Want to know how rotten England’s worn-out, under-funded, sucked-dry-by-private-commerce rail network is? Well consider this, trains in every other country, even France, are damned near supersonic. Mr Branson’s wibbly-wobbly expresses occasionally reach one hundred and twenty-five miles per hour. Only very, very occasionally…
Some things, such as railway networks, roads, police, prisons, power supplies, water supplies and national health services simply have to be nationalised and given investment. Such things are one of the few, one of the very few excuses for the existence, operation and interference of “governments”. As our own dear over-privileged lard-arses are slowly finding out, you can’t continue to squeeze taxes out of a peasant population to pay for pan-gendered identity cards for culturally-sensitive nuclear missile projects in parts of the world that even Dr Livingstone wouldn’t send a dog to if you don’t first keep the lights at home burning, the rubbish collected, the water flowing out of the taps and the borders reasonably secure, &etc, &etc.
Mind you, that said, I would welcome government interference with the pair of magpies nesting in the corner hedgerow alongside the Cardinal. Randy little critters, at it like rabbits they are, bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk. Noisy with it, too, and it is far from melodious.
I’m tempted to get a taxi into town, buy a couple of ostrich eggs and slide them into the nest, see what their reaction is then. Oh, Marjorie, I told you that once was enough – look, the effect must be cumulative! Sidney, if you think that I’m going to sit astride that until it hatches then you have another think coming.
First suggestions for the title and cover artwork for the Opus Nextus have come through, I think that I like them both. This is possibly for the eBook version.
That’s the joy of being a cantankerous old Hector, it’s my choice or no choice.
Tag line is “Six short stories of thought, politics, history, religion, economics and conspiracy.”
Covered just about everything we’re not suppose to mention in there, except for sex. No idea about sex, couldn’t write about it if the future happiness of two magpies depended upon it. I’m English. Passion is reserved for rugby and for large mechanical devices, such as steam trains. My goodness me, if someone should one day build a rugby pitch with a steam locomotive line running around the perimeter… [makes peculiar noise and falls over in a minor faint].
It’s been an odd sort of a day.
I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, at least not the ones propounded by the usual suspects. Politicians the world over can’t keep a lid on their love lives or their ill-judged expenses claims, so I don’t think they’d be likely to keep a lid on any global conspiracy. There is, however, a huge chunk of the global jigsaw missing. You really can’t expect a chap to believe that these quarter-wit nincompoops are actually running things, most of them can barely tie a shoe-lace or zip up their own flies. Nope, there’s something going on, but it’s certainly not got anything to do with a global elite or with Her Majesty being some sort of Icke-lizard.
My best guess is that we’ve simply somehow allowed a system to come into being that encourages buffoonery, self-interest and vicious disregard. The passive system, the bricks and mortar of society, now wholly discourages statesmanship, decent leadership, imagination, big thinking. We’ve developed a passive infrastructure that, like rats in a maze, gives society only one way to go.
That way is, of course, down the drain, while gazing into our fluff-laden navels and debating about whether free speech is a good thing or a bad thing. Well, if you have to think hard about free speech may I suggest that we are perhaps already too far gone for hope of recovery…
World would be a better place if we (re)filled it with steam engines.
Come the revolution, when I am Lord High He-Who (Must Be Obeyed)… things may not necessarily change for the better, but they will be more fun.
Until that day, carry on, you’re all doing as well as may be expected.