All good things must come to an end. Thus, until September, Parliament is in recess. Yes the pack of bawling schoolchildren we are expected to look up to as our leaders are going on their holidays, some no doubt, at the expense of whichever interests they are consulting, lobbying, courting, embezzling, distorting, spinning, lying or cheating for. Imagine the gossip at Toynbee Villas over the summer. Imagine how the special Socialist Champagne will flow!
No doubt the Camerons will hole up on somebody’s common or garden, all-in-this-together, private island in the Caribbean, George Osborne having to make do with some castle or other, while dear old Nick Clegg will be trying for a Redcoat summer job at Butlins, where he’ll be able to court the attentions of Red Len and company in his bid to seek a coalition with labour for when he loses his current position. Hi-de-Hi, Nick!
I too will be taking my leave, for a while. To all the Twitter burglars* out there, my compact and bijou abode will be fending for itself for a couple of weeks – knock yourselves out - while my little brother and I rip apart and reassemble the bungalow our ancient and creaky parents are about to move into. Oh yes, it’s definitely renovation weather, he said with an ironic wink and a sweaty nod and blogging will be the last thing on my mind after a day at the coal face.
For those literally unable to get through the week without me, how about you trawl through the blog for some old favourites then share them with the world? That would be a nice change from seeing my endless repeated scheduled tweets popping up every half hour. Plus, depending on activity, it will give me the opportunity to pick my favourite reader – much the same as parents are forced to do with their kids.
So, I’m off. I may pop up with the odd jocular, infinitely retweetable gem, I may not. I might even squeeze in the odd wee blogette now and then, but until normal service is once again resumed I shall bid you a fond adieu and wish you a happy couple of weeks of rant-free summer until we meet again.
If anybody asks, tell 'em I'm here!
(*Burglars please note: I have installed cameras everywhere, so make sure you smile. Oh and watch out for the bear pit, the man traps and the Rambo style spiky killer-bamboo booby-trap...)
Stout fellow! I know all about ancient and creaky parents -- I was full-time carer (hate that word) for my demented and doubly incontinent mother for two years. So glad your parents are still able to live independently -- I wouldn't consign my worst enemy to the tender mercies of professional so-called carers. Mum was left in tears nearly every time they came. "They treat me like a piece of meat....."ReplyDelete
I won't wish you a happy holiday because it's clearly not a holiday, but....Best wishes to you and your parents.