11January1996

My dear folks,

This is going to be short. My four early mornings are catching up with me, spurred on by half of bottle of Cape Cabernet. And I have not much to tell. It’s Thursday evening. Mavis is in his box & so is Mitterrand. We did a 90 min special on his funeral, amazingly complicated with cameras & commentators & translators in Paris & more in London. Fortunately, I did not have to worry about this. The capable young woman who did carried it off with honours. My bit was preparing the Asian news which was tame by
comparison but complicated enough for me.

Lady Thatcher has been rubbishing the left wing of the Conservative Party & driving deeper the wedge that has been splitting it down the middle. She has been making a big speech which is delighting Labour supporters more than her own devotees, given the damage its doing to her cause. The lady is firmly in the Atilla camp & wants a much wider Channel separating Britain from Europe, lest the frightful French & the godawful Germans call the tune - never mind the dismal Dutch, the awful Austrians, the slimy Spanish & all the other ghastly inhabitants of Europe. Of course, they do already, to all intents & purposes. The next election looms here & with it the prospect for the government of five years on the opposition benches. The truth is that they need the time to examine their navels & contemplate their sins. Too long in office & even the best government grows stale, and this has not been the best government.

Me, I rode off to work at 6 am & I rode back at 16.30. It was dry on the way in & gave me an opportunity to relish the quiet of the morning. What bliss when the roads are deserted. I breathed deeply the joy of sheer living & exercising. That’s the only good thing about starting work at sparrows. It does not come naturally to me. It’s easier to go to work by car but more confining. I feel freer on the bike. The rain was falling
when I came back, the roads were poisonous with traffic & I concentrated on trying to see through or over my speckled spectacles. Mave met me at the house door. I had to wait a couple of minutes while he peered out & made up his mind not to get his paws wet. The same performance was required at the flat door a few seconds later. He has to hover for a couple of minutes to satisfy himself that he could stay outside if he
wanted to but that he doesn’t. Then he comes in, gives you a huge ankle grind to say he loves you & will you please serve supper quick because he’s hungry.

I fixed my torn backpack while Jones prepared our dinner. She tends to eat a lot of greens herself while fattening me up on solids. I confess my appetite for greens is limited though each of us would do better to reverse plates. I am trying to lose a little weight & trying to encourage her to gain a little. At least her bottom is pattable again. It felt like a deflated balloon for a while, both depressed & depressing. I am working on her already about the need to eat properly while she is in Portugal this year. Jones is a social eater & hardly takes food in the absence of
other people. I eat when I’m hungry (& sometimes when I’m merely tempted) regardless of the presence of other people. So I’m fatter than nature intended & she thinner. I haven’t despaired of regaining my trim. I think you’re doomed once that happens. But I haven’t actually regained it either.

No more musings. Think of you lots. Had a chat to Bren tonight.
Blessings for now.
T