By the time I’d chopped firewood, undertaken an hour’s bat hunting (think I’ve found the access point), cleared the past week’s paperwork, watched PMQs and eaten lunch, it was time for a trot across the moor – blow the cobwebs away. Although the sky appears grim, provided you are suitably attired it’s quite pleasant. Wimp that I am, this morning the heating was switched on. Ever the optimist, however, I’ve yet to consign my barbecue to the barn. There are a handful of swallows remaining but mainly it’s buzzards and crows and a Chinook. The usual livestock of course, otherwise people free. Am making the most of the solitude before Cameron caves to the inevitable and opens the door. A number of my more happy-clappy neighbours appear wildly enthusiastic at the prospect, though I suspect their preference is for attractive semi-westernised mothers and their cuddly babies rather than rock-throwing hoodlums.
...I remain a regular Mister Tom.