5May1995

London & Portugal: 5th May 1995
My dear folks,

What a busy day & what a hot one - in the 80s. It started late. I had pulled the blinds & closed the door when I eventually retired in the early hours after staying up to watch a programme on the outcome of yesterday's local elections in England. The last time I saw such political devastation was the previous Canadian election where the ruling Progressive Conservatives were reduced, as I recall, to two seats. It's the kind of message from the electorate that spells oblivion. Britain's ruling Conservatives were nearly as sorely wounded as the nation signalled its dissatisfaction with their governance, angrily ousting long-serving councillors around the country in what the opposition gleefully called a meltdown. The final toll speaks for itself: Labour 155 councils; 44 to the Liberal Democrats & 8 to the Conservatives (who no longer hold a single council in Scotland or Wales.) Mr Major insists that he was elected for a 5-year term & still has 2 years to run. But the writing is writ large on the wall for those who will read it.

I was able to entice Mavis back into the house around 0200 before retiring, but he preferred to spend the night downstairs in the hall. On his own head! I found him outside & ravenous when I descended at 0900 to fetch the post. It contained a passport renewal form which the Irish Embassy had sent me. This I filled in. Then I cycled (after a preliminary phone call) to the bank where a manageress I had never seen before swore she'd known me for years & plastered the form & accompanying photos with official stamps. Bless her. There's nothing quite as reassuring as an official stamp. You can't argue with it. It proclaims its authority to all.

Thence to the Irish Embassy whose address placed it close to Buckingham Palace. I cycled via the back routes of Paddington & through Hyde Park in order to avoid the gaseous soup that passes for air on London's main roads on such days as these. It's truly foul. In the park, I found a vast tent city in the building & traffic stoked up in every direction. It took a couple of moments to register. V E Day (Victory in Europe), the 50th anniversary, is being commemorated this weekend. TV News later informed us that more than a million people are expected to attend an event described as the biggest to be staged in 40 years. I shall stay far away from it.

The embassy waiting room was mercifully under-populated. Two small girls were occupying themselves & their mothers & entertaining the rest of us with their antics. One of them climbed up on the chair beside me & then loudly informed her mum that: "Man looking at me!" Indeed I was. I told her that she'd better get used to it for a great many more men were likely to do the same, a sentiment with a ring of truth that pleased the assembly. 15 minutes later I was done. I could collect my new passport in a fortnight. The official stamps had clearly done the trick.

Home again via a furniture shop which is having a sale & where Jones had asked me to purchase 4 folding chairs for MCP. They had only 3 but expected to obtain more next week. I paid & arranged to collect them. They were ridiculously inexpensive. When I looked closely, I saw that they were made in China. Hard to compete with such labour costs. At the flat, an urgent message to phone the office was waiting on the answerphone. Would I come in early on Monday & Tuesday to free up a producer to reinforce our crews in Croatia? The answer to such requests is inevitably YES. Hope the bastards show their gratitude.

For lunch, I had microwaved macaroni cheese. Since Jones's departure, I have reconnected the microwave & bought a supply of readies. Every day, I move 1 or 2 from the freezer to the fridge & then, at the appropriate hour, I bung them into the microwave which spits out dinner 5 minutes later. Back on the bike for a 30 minute ride to Islington to give Penny another computer lesson. She's making good progress but her computer continues to behave erratically. Richard plans to take it into the office for an electronic overhaul which it needs.

I have been watering the patio plants copiously these past few evenings to help them survive the heatwave. Jones gave them a much needed trim before leaving for Portugal. (She has also been labouring in the garden down there, but I shall let her speak for herself in a moment).

With the advent of summer, the little community we gaze down upon has emerged from behind its winter doors. People, dogs, cats & plants suddenly come alive in the patchwork of inner London gardens beneath us. The patio remains our little deposit on heaven. It's so nice.

Much attention given on TV this evening to the danger of sheep-dips to farmers. A report published in The Lancet warns of accumulating evidence that the organo-phosphates used cause serious neurological damage over time. Tragic pictures of an afflicted farmer & his son both staggering around speak volumes. The boffins say the danger is greatly lessened if farmers wear proper protective clothing but the footage of the animals being dipped makes it clear that the wearing of such clothing is neither practical nor practised.