Hello. Remember me?
Apologies for the silence for the past couple of weeks; as I’m sure most of you worked out, my beautiful old laptop finally gave up the ghost last week, refusing to get beyond the start-up stage, leaving me dangling looking at the buffering circle of doom as it thought about starting properly, before suggesting I turned it off and on again to resolve the issue. Et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum.
My parents came to visit last weekend; we went out for lunch and when they asked me for my news and I broke the horror of my computerised predicament to them, my Dad nodded sagely: “That explains why we’ve had no Sunday Morning Coming Down for two weeks then.” This was enough to secure a loan from The Bank of Mum & Dad, and so here I am, new laptop currently uploading all of my tuneage to iTunes.
So firstly, thanks to my folks for helping me out. This will get paid back. Honest.
Fortuitously, it’s been a quiet couple of weeks since I last posted anything. Very little of note has happened.
*Flicks through daily redtop*
Oh wait: we have a new Prime Minister.
There’s no need for me to go into what I think of Liz Truss, you already know. And I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for me to have a rant about her in the coming months. I mean, I could mention that she has previously called the UK workforce “lazy”, but pretty much her first act as PM (after she had green-lit fracking starting up again) was to give her and all MPs ten days off to mourn and grieve, whilst the rest of us get feck all. But I won’t.
Grieve what….? Ummm…..
Oh yes. You may have missed it, but The Queen has only gone and bloody died. Paul Burrell is backing his Transit van up to Buck House as we speak.
(I must say that I was impressed that my blogging peers resisted the temptation to post a certain Smiths song on Thursday evening. Had I been up and running, I’m not sure I could have resisted the temptation.)
Now. I know you know I’m not exactly the biggest fan of the Royal family. Give me the Royle Family, any day. But I’m not about to trash the recently deceased. I’m sure that amongst you there are many who are genuinely upset by the passing of Lizzie Mk 2. Me – not so much. If I’m honest, I was more annoyed that the BBC broke into Bargain Hunt to tell me she was ill, never to return. I have no idea whether the blues or the reds won, or whether either Bargain Buy was fruitful, and now I cannot rest.
One of the reasons I’m supposed to be sad is that, so I’ve read, as Elizabeth II was on the throne for so long, I’ve never experienced a world without her in that position. Well, I’d never known a world without Rick Parfitt chugging away in The Quo either, but he didn’t get a state funeral, did he? (Probably because alcohol is flammable, but whetever.)
Apparently, the world is going to be very different now Charles is the monarch, but other than the logistics (new money, stamps, etc) is it really? The only real difference I can see is that when he is referred to as King Charles III, I keep expecting the word ‘Spaniel’ to feature somewhere, and no I don’t mean Camilla.
What I’m trying to say is this: Each to their own, that’s my motto. I may not respect your opinion, but I respect your right to hold it. Even if you’re wrong.