Mirinda had guitar today and, coincidentally, there was a guitarist playing at Farnham Maltings at lunchtime. I suggested we meet there for an hour of expert plucking. And so that was the plan. But, like some great plans, things didn’t exactly work out that way.
First thing, having handed her sleepy self a cup of tea, I headed, trolley in hand, up to the shops for a few last minute bits and pieces. I then wheeled them back home.
I finished the violets from yesterday, given the weather was entirely beautiful, before getting ready to head back into Farnham. I arrived at the Maltings, spotted Max in the car park and went into the café where Mirinda was waiting for me.
So far, all was to plan.
Just before 1pm we headed for the box office to buy tickets only to discover that, for the first time ever, the guitarist for this particular slot had had to be cancelled. He had written the date in his calendar incorrectly. It was not the venues fault at all even though, in a typically English way, the ticket person was apologising all over the place.
And so, we retrieved Max and went home instead. A shame. I was really looking forward to it. Still, there’s always next time.
At the same time, something like a million people took to the streets in London demanding a People’s Vote while Parliament sat on a Saturday for the first time in 37 years (or something like that) to debate the new crappy deal brokered by Boris Johnson.
As it turned out, the deal was never voted on because of the Letwin Amendment which required the PM to write a letter to the EU asking for an extension beyond October 31 if the deal hasn’t passed through Parliament beforehand.
He did write a letter but, like a petulant and ridiculous child, he didn’t sign it. He then sent a second letter saying he thought it was a shit idea. I guess that’s all you can expect from an unelected Prime Minister of a self destructing country.
