Mad dogs and English(wo)men
Well, today has been another crazy day in British politics! The Tory leadership contest unexpectedly skipped its final round when the penultimate candidate withdrew (frankly a relief as she appears to be as mad as a box of frogs, as well as not very competent), making many of us wonder whether she'd been a plant in the first place to prevent the much-loathed former Education Secretary making the final two. A challenger for the leadership of the Labour party found her press conference deserted as all the journalists ran off to find out what was going on with the Tories. And Mr Cameron, having thought he didn't have to move out of No. 10 till September, has now said he will be gone by Wednesday teatime.
(This necessitates the Queen, to whom he has to resign and who then has to call for his successor, coming back down to London from Balmoral where she was in the middle of her summer hols. I bet she is Not Best Pleased. If I were her I'd jolly well make Cameron and Teresa May helicopter up there instead of the other way round - Her Maj is 90 after all!)
To cap it all, at the end of the announcement he made outside No 10 Downing Street, Cameron thanked the assembled journos and was then picked up by their microphones, as he went back up the Downing street steps, humming happily to himself. (I'm not surprised! No longer his problem!)
Frankly, I'm rather missing the usual silly season where all that's on the news in the summer is Wimbledon, waterskiing hamsters and lost tourists who accidentally go round and round the Circle Line on the London Underground for a week. All this proper politics is exhausting.
And one of our windows at the top of the house - not the porthole, fortunately, and one of the few whose glass we haven't replaced - has cracked, possibly due to heat stress, and will have to be replaced. Bah.
But to cheer you all up, there was a lovely blackbird enjoying himself no end having a bath on the end of the plank in our pond when I came down this morning :-)
(This necessitates the Queen, to whom he has to resign and who then has to call for his successor, coming back down to London from Balmoral where she was in the middle of her summer hols. I bet she is Not Best Pleased. If I were her I'd jolly well make Cameron and Teresa May helicopter up there instead of the other way round - Her Maj is 90 after all!)
To cap it all, at the end of the announcement he made outside No 10 Downing Street, Cameron thanked the assembled journos and was then picked up by their microphones, as he went back up the Downing street steps, humming happily to himself. (I'm not surprised! No longer his problem!)
Frankly, I'm rather missing the usual silly season where all that's on the news in the summer is Wimbledon, waterskiing hamsters and lost tourists who accidentally go round and round the Circle Line on the London Underground for a week. All this proper politics is exhausting.
And one of our windows at the top of the house - not the porthole, fortunately, and one of the few whose glass we haven't replaced - has cracked, possibly due to heat stress, and will have to be replaced. Bah.
But to cheer you all up, there was a lovely blackbird enjoying himself no end having a bath on the end of the plank in our pond when I came down this morning :-)