2008 — 23 August: Saturday

Midnight again. We got back from High Wycombe at about 22:30 — it was a good day, even if I did have to fill the tank again. At least I can now say I've survived the world's busiest carpark (the M25) and I even swung through the town of High Wycombe on the way back this evening. Haven't been there since 1975 when Christa and I spent a bad few hours one way or another chasing bits of bureaucracy associated with my Dad's death. I won't pretend the town is full of happy memories for me.

Nor can I pretend I did my best-ever parking earlier in West Drayton near John's "Aviation hobby shop". Still, he assures me the motorway system wasn't busy, despite what it seemed like to me. Right; time for tonight's picture of Christa:

Yet another hair-style!

If I had to guesstimate, I'd say this was sometime in 1977. Oh well, off to West Quay in a few hours to investigate John Lewis. Bro has somehow popped the zipper on his rucksack at both ends and needs a new rucksack for his precious miniature cargo. Still, he's promised to do the dishes later this morning (that's the débris from yesterday morning's hasty cooked breakfast while I opted for the healthy cardboard cereal, of course). Crikey! I'm in desperate need of a few hours of downtime! G'night.

Bank Holiday weekend, huh?

Not much rest for the less than angelic. Bro's showering while I do the dishes and prepare brekkie — and people have said "maybe you should get a dog!" Still, the sun is shining brightly and there's shopping to be done. Ho-hum.

One of my gad-flies is at it again. Still, by giving up the Guardian at least I can claim to have dropped out of the educated elite!

... British youth are among the Western world's leaders in such indicators of social pathology as teenage pregnancy, violence, criminality, underage drinking, and consumption of illicit drugs. Britain has the third-highest rate of teenage pregnancy in the industrialized world, according to the UNICEF report (only the United States and New Zealand are higher) — a startling case recently made headlines of 16-, 14-, and 12-year-old sisters, all of whom gave birth within a year of one another. British children have the earliest and highest consumption of cocaine of any young people in Europe, are ten times more likely to sniff solvents than are Greek children, and are six to seven times more likely to smoke pot than are Swedish children. Almost a third of British young people aged 11, 13, and 15 say they have been drunk at least twice.

Theodore Dalrymple in The City Journal


I find myself completely unable to poke fun at anything in his article. It is grimly well-written reading.

TANSTAAFL isn't true... dept.

Christa and I had our wedding lunch, with my parents, at a pub called the Hit or Miss in Penn (vaguely) in September 1974. At last, I have a photo of me (at least) in that same pub. Sorry, but Christa couldn't make it this time!

There is such a thing as a free lunch!

Thanks, Bro! (Left to right, his brother-in-law, his bro, his sister-in-law.) Nice people, nice day. Long drive.

Margaret Field

aka Aunty Peg, died peacefully earlier this evening in the nursing home to which she'd been moved less than a week ago. She was approaching (but I think had not quite reached) her 96th birthday.1 With luck, and a following wind, perhaps she can now be peacefully re-united with her husband Graham. Who knows? I've yet to break the news to her sister (dear Mama, that is) — John agrees with me that some news can be allowed to keep overnight, as it were. We similarly temporarily held back the news about her father's death quite a few years ago now. She was down in NZ at the time. Not that there's ever really a "best" time for this sort of news, is there?

Then there were none

Left to right, Dad, Uncle Graham, Aunty Peg. All now gone, except from my memory (of course). As I said to Aunty Mary a few minutes ago, I'm very pleased Bro and Mama both got to see Peg last Thursday with me. Even Mama said what a nice place she was in, too. Remind me again of all the good things about old age and encroaching mental and physical decrepitude!

  

Footnote

1  I confess I have currently misplaced Christa's master calendar of birthdays and similar anniversaries. It's in the house; indeed in all likelihood it's in her study. It's just not to hand right now.