So there we have it, democracy in its purest form. Mr Van Rumpy Pumpey is officially the new president of the EU or the Deathstar as I like to call it. A shining example to our boys in Afghanistan who are being shot at and blown up in an attempt to give a population in some far away land the right to elect their own leader while we have an unelected figurehead that no one has ever heard of foisted upon us. I do not recall any voting card being posted through my letter box. I had thought that many of my ancestors who died in two world wars had not passed away in vain. They died to stop some unelected leader ruling our lands and telling is what to do. How wrong I was. What pains me most is that many of the people who have said “what is all the fuss about”, have not read the Lisbon treaty and do not understand its full implications. Oh well if they do not realise then one day maybe their kids will.
In an attempt to relive the boredom of house arrest, I have been fed a diet of daytime TV and the other day I watched a programme about quantum mechanics. I do not profess to remotely understand the theory about Schrodinger’s cat nor how one thing can be in the two different places at the same time. I would ask all the academics out there one question. If something can be in two places at the same time then why can’t I be in the pub while I am in work? The theory is up there with the scientists from Gulliver’s travels trying to distil sunshine from cucumbers.
Work on the house revival has started and as I write two young guys are sorting out my aerials and placing a new super dooper aerial on the roof that should be capable of picking up radio Kamchatka. The cables are being sorted out and once the new window blinds are in place the house should no longer resemble Steptoe and Sons palace. The list of jobs to complete on the house before it goes on the market is one shorter.
With the night’s drawing in, the mercury falling and adverts for Christmas appearing with alarming regularity, thoughts of travel and sunnier climes are once more looming large. I recently wrote to the Tiler and realised it has been three years since he and his family left. I have no idea where the time is going but its gathering speed and heading for the horizon. I remember promising him just as he left that I would be out there to see him within two years. Sadly as with the promised referendum on the Lisbon constitution/treaty, it has turned out to be another empty promise.