It’s a Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK, with tomorrow, Monday, standing in for the May Day holiday.
Me, I could do without it. I know that’s selfish, and I do remember how much I looked forward to the Spring public holidays when I was a kid, and when I was a working man. Now, twenty years into retirement, they’re little more than a nuisance.
I’m thankful that here in our little valley there’s little Bank Holiday nuisance, or noise. I can’t help but reflect on the way these holidays degraded the quality of life when we lived in Bridgwater, though, and I feel a degree of sadness for those who suffer that way.
Lawks but I’m getting to be a sour old man. Quiet, though. I don’t make much noise these days.
Dolly and I have spent much of today watching TV. Again, par for the course as we settle into Graham’s absence. We’ll be over it tomorrow and I shall pitch in to cleaning and dusting and restoring the house to its normal tidy state; thereafter I shall maintain it in the same state until himself gets back.
I watched a little bit of documentary on the Brecon Beacons this morning. Seems odd that there it is, at the top of the valley and round the bend a little, and yet I’ve not visited. I suppose I could have a little run up there this coming week. We’ll see. If the black dog stays away it may very well do so, otherwise I shall hide indoors with wine, munchies, Dolly the Mega-Cat, and Stargate Atlantis. Worse things happen at sea.
