Monday 5th November 2012

Tonight is the night we celebrate the fact that someone didn't blow up the Houses of Parliament. What with the expenses scandals, broken electoral promises, broken promises to the military, failure to bring in stronger banking reform maybe we should really go and finish the job that Guy Fawkes failed to do. They can't hang, draw and quarter all of us, can they? The latest quip by Ian Duncan Smith, a career politician who never has had a 'proper' job is that families should only receive child benefit and support for two children to discourage scrounging. Failing to take into consideration those who once were employed, now are not, what about them should they be punished for losing their jobs? And is it really their children's fault their parents have no job?

MPs are currently trying to have their salary increased by 30 grand a year to compensate their lower pensions. Maybe they should take out a private one, that's what the rest of us do.....



Anyway, on with the blog....

Another Monday and another feeling that the weekend has just flown by. I was trying to write that so I could use the word flu instead of flew, thereby making a play on words.

Laying in bed on Friday evening, I could hear me wheezing, which I know by now is a sign that a bad cold is inbound. I did sleep until about half four, but once I was awake there was no going back to sleep. As the day progressed, so did the sniffing and sneezing, but I guess it wasn’t until I got back into bed and my breathing really began to be laboured that I realised I was in for a long and sleepless night. Up again at four, feed the cats and then sit on the sofa suffering regular sneezing fits.



*sigh*

And so Sunday continued with sneezing, sniffing and general grumbling. In a twist, as I got sicker, Jools was getting better as the drugs she got from the quack on Friday began to take effect. Although, saying that she did begin to lose her voice. So, all in all, we were a right pair. And yet, the weekend had begun so well.

Or fairly well. We had tickets for the opening show of the Folkestone book festival, and poet John Hegley was doing the first show.John Hegley was once a member of pop group The Popticians who were regularly on the John Peel show. I used to love their work, and so after a 29 and a half year wait, I finally saw one of them, John, on stage. John’s work is mainly concerned with his life growing up in Luton and his glasses. Although his recent work is about his family, and has a wonderful bittersweet feel.



John is 58 now, and I remember his as a fairly fresh-faced young man looking out of the pages of the NME, and here he is, 7 years short of the retirement age. Everything and everyone we grew up with are getting old. Well, that’s obvious, Ian. But it true. All those teenage rebels and heroes now have lumbago and bus passes. Some are looking better than others, depending on their drink or chemical habits back in the day. A few weeks ago it was the 50th anniversary of the release of the first Beatles single, Love Me Do. That I remember the 20th anniversary shows the march of time has apparently sped up somewhat…..

Jools wasn’t feeling well enough to go, so I headed off to Folkestone at half six, so I could wander round the streets of Folkestone before the show taking yet more photographs. Since my last visit, many shots and galleries up the Old High Street have closed. The really good Spanish restaurant has also closed and replaced by something called the Jazz House or something. It had two customers.

I called in Googies, a Mexican place that sells good Belgian beer to, just for a drink and had a good chat with the owner. He refused to sell me a Belgian beer, instead insisting I try one from Bermondsey instead. He was right, it was good doo; very light and had citrus undertones thanks to the New Zealand hops used in its fermentation. Lovely.



And then to the theatre. The show was great, and at the start as I took a shot of John, he came over to see what I was doing. He wanted to try my glasses on, and we had a bit of a chat until he was happy that I had the shots I wanted and then he got on with the show.

At halftime I looked at the book stall in the foyer, and ended up buying John’s latest work and a book about Captain Scott’s lost photographs, and I have been reading that throughout the weekend when I wasn’t sneezing. Seems that the heroic age wasn’t so heroic after all, and it was beset by divisions about whether exploration for its own sake was enough, and theta there should be scientific discoveries and experiments to go alongside the exploration. But in the end it was sheer desire that the first person to the South Pole should be British that saw Scott assemble a team and head south in the Tera Nova.



Saturday, the day started with heavy rain and Jools was still coughing really badly, so we had a quiet day inside. I played around with photographs, shock, and listened to the radio; another shock. And so the day passed quietly.

Sunday, the day began with wind and rain, and so we sat inside some more and watched the rain run down the windows, and me to read the Scott book.



Just before lunch, the rain stopped so we headed down to the bay to see if the sea was rough. It was, and the sun even broke through. We walked along the seawall, dodging the breaking waves, and me taking shots. The wind was keen and cold. To put it bluntly, I felt like shit, so we headed back home for lunch. And apart from the weekly trip to Tesco that was our sole trip outside.

And so begins my last quiet week for a while. We are granny-sitting next week, and that could be very stressful to say the least. We shall see. So, until next time, keep taking the medicine; I know I will.