Nake Mo Mitsake

Those magnificent Human Beans in their flying-machines are arriving for the G7 Jolly.

Well, they are if the airspace overhead this morning is owt to go by.

Does it really not speak (very belated) volumes to you that while the peasant masses must mask and separate and isolate and furlough and quarantine and stampede back from Portugal and such wotnot, Those Whom We Are Not Allowed To Criticise may take ten-minute 10,000 gallon Jumbo-Jet rides from London to Cornwall – and here’s an image injurious to your brain – for an alcohol and cash fuelled Bacchanalian orgy with their mates, significant others, hangers-on, and ear-piece-pressing, armpit-bulge-sporting Post-Defecation Rectal-Hygiene Facilitators?

Do try to not imagine Boris and Merkel going at it like rabbits while Macron looks on, giggles awkwardly and bites his nails.

Even after the past eighteen months, does this really not say something to you?

[Sighs, goes for another walk in the countryside and kicks at the hot, dusty stones.]

It was a damnably hot walk too. I remained that day in the land of nod too long for a dawn foray, but then wondered about the true nature of the world later in the day, when sun and people and things were about – and decided to venture out and to sample it. Bad idea. Big big bad idea. Big Badda-Boom; Leeloo Dallas mul-ti-pass.

Over-heated, over-peopled. Five miles felt like ten, and on returning to the Cardinal I walked through a delicious cold shower and sat down to wrinkle my nose, frown and mutter ‘Ugh!’ for half an hour.

I took a few diversions away from t’canal but found my way blocked by NIMBYs from Porscheland. The Rights of Way, so diligently sign-posted by contractors working for Cheshire East Council, fizzled out into dead ends. One trail led to a busy road – nope, no thank you. The other, initially more promising and which ought to have led back to the canal, came to a sticky end with sign-posts and all trace of welcome removed because it obviously ran too close to some ‘oh gosh aren’t we rich?’ dwellings, the occupants of which didn’t want peasants strolling too closely by.

I’ve since confirmed the Right of Way on the map, and next time I’m in the neighbourhood I’ll be dragging my sack-cloth rags and fleas and pestilence right through your driveway and onwards. 🙂

These other houses were trying a different tack. The signs marking the pathway remained, but the path itself had not been maintained. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it was being actively hidden! Hidden with … some stile, it must be said.

Walking required the “just dropped down from the Rift Valley trees” technique – arms raised, chimpanzee style, keeping a careful eye swivelling about for predators.

Through the shared yard and out through the driveway. Yes, it’s probably very annoying, but the Right of Way has been there since Alfred burnt his first cakes, and you ought not have built over it.

I re-traced my overly-warm footsteps and got back onto the canal towpath. Hurleston Junction was suspiciously quiet, there just being three boats moving while I availed myself of a patch of shade there.

The Upstanding Loveliness that is The Watery Wellness Trust Ltd is apparently under investigation by The Charity Commission for something akin to filing differing Annual Reports at Companies House and with The Charity Commission – the latter, more upbeat, more successful, people-are-happier-with-us report also being the one to find its way onto the WWT Ltd website… Whodathunkit, eh?

Who knows which is the “corrrect” report now? They’ve put ’em up, changed ’em, taken ’em down and replaced them and asked to do every which thing with them now that it’s akin to the Shell Game. My money’s going with ‘the report that is under the most woeful-looking cup is the one nearest reality’.

Once a person or – more importantly – a supposedly auguest national body – has lied about one thing and been caught out in that lie there is no logical or sane reason to believe anything else that they say or publish, is there?

The legal challenge to WWT Ltd’s illegal new “toyms und condishuns” continues, as does the necessary fundraiser.

C&RT is coming. Their goose is getting fat.
Please put a penny in the old man’s legal-challenge hat.
If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do.
If you haven’t got a ha’penny, God bless you.

The legal challenge from canal-boat traders continues. WWT Ltd charge people who trade on and from their boats extra quids for their licences – local councils are now beginning to charge boat traders for a “street trader’s licence” in addition, insisting that the canals are, in effect, “a street”. The WWT Ltd have giggled and gone to play with their crayons.

Does anyone in a position of some even slight power on this planet actually possess a straight back-bone and/or a morals-gland?

It seems not.

On a much happier note, I up the loaded three more images to my red-hot, flying-off-the-shelves-like-sliced-loaves greetings cards, wall-art and whatever shop with Fine Art America (printing, production and fulfillment are international, not just USA), so there’s lovely for you yes indeed. Please do not, do seriously not, buy anything, but might I ask one or two of you to spread the word with a tweet or a facebook share or a… word? 😉

I’ve got your boring walls covered, as they say.

p.s., &etc – Dear WWT Ltd., I am not “trading from my boat, I’m trading from a website”!

Note to self: never, ever, go out in full daylight again.

Aside from this – heck, even including this – it’s all been quiet on the Western Front.

The Russian Front I don’t know about, but I’m sure that I’ll soon find out.

Anyone know any good knock-knock jokes?

Chin-chin, chaps and chapesses.

IGH & CW &etc.

😉