Friday June 9th 2017

After the crushing disappointments of the last election, the referendum and then Trump, it will be no surprise for you to learn that I did not want to know the first General Election result of 2017 (there may be more than one more, we shall see). Have you seen the result asks Jools, perky and awake since half five. I daren't, I replied. Hung Parliament she said.

That put a different shine on things, so I put on the computer to see the reality myself. From what looked like winning a 200 plus seat majority eight weeks ago, the Tories failed to win an overall majority. Who'd have think it? Not me for sure, I thought Corbyn was a dead duck, seems like it is May who is quacking her last. Or will be.

As the results came in, things got worse, as places like Canterbury and after three recounts, Kensington (yes, that one in that London) went Labour for the first time ever. These may be the end of times, or will be for May anyway come the day of reckoning. For a while it was not clear who might form the Government, but in the end, May did a deal with the Devil, of the DUP, and so she went to see the Queen to form a Government. She is so weakened, she could not do a reshuffle, and put the whole of the Good Friday Agreement in serious doubt in doing a deal with the DUP hardliners. It may yet come to pass such a deal is against the Good Friday Agreement, if not, it is against the spirit of it, where the Government is supposed to be impartial.

For now, all that we thought was set in stone and a clear path ahead to hard brexit is now in doubt, as all bets are off, and I will write more about this shit another time.

Put me in a good mood for sure, even if I did not vote for Corbyn, he would not compromise on Brexit, although that might now change. Anyway, coffee and some lovely grapefruit segments, then a second breakfast of toast and Dundee Marmalade, with the toast almost cold to preserve the crunch.

Crunch.

Munch.

Oh wow. I had Twitter on my home computer and the news ticked over during the day, getting more amazing by the minute. But I did have work to do. Meetings of course, and solid meetings until lunchtime, by which point I had a way forward to close out the remaining tasks on my old project, and so by the end of the day, able to send out final versions of documents, and finish work at half two, just in time for Jools to come back home, laden with shopping. And fresh cupcakes.

I make coffee, and we go outside to sit in the garden and eat cupcakes and drink coffee, and do so surrounded by cats. Oh, and it was the start of the weekend.

I put on Steve Lamaq to hear the final of the Northern Soul World Cup, and Jools goes to the chippy, as fish and chips sounds pretty perfect for a Friday night tea. When I grew up, dinner was lunchtime, and tea was the evening meal. It was for me and my friends. So I stay home, butter some bread and make brews. And throw shapes as the soul tunes kept spinning.

And then there was TOTP from January 1984: Frankie, Icicle Works, Shaky and Bonnie, Roland bloody Rat, Lionel Ritchie and Macca. Those were the days. I was 19 when that first aired.

And then there was The Don. For an hour, while outside the full moon rose over the roofs of the houses on the other side of the valley. I took a shot.