You possibly wouldn’t have noticed, but I wasn’t here last Friday. I was up in Scotland on a course. No….not Muirfield. Don’t get me started on that. Incidentally, talking about masculinity I stayed up late last night watching the latest in the Grayson Perry series investigating manliness in the City. I know, I have been banging on about how excited I was given my role in this, but I have to admit the episode was a bit of an anti-climax. Unless you have any money managed by some guy called Hugh Hendry I really can’t urge you to watch it and regret that I did.
So, ( have you noticed how often people this days start their utterances with that word – ironic given the angst I suffered, fretting over the fact I started the fourth paragraph with the same inane two letters as I contrived the nemonic T_O_S_S_E_R when reporting on a speech by Tony Blair at the CLSA Forum in Las Vegas ), having taken the decision not to talk you through my tortuous round at Kingsbarns or my four shanks on the Old Course the previous evening, I have to admit I’m struggling for things to tell you. The problem is to be absolutely honest, life has been a bit dull.
My asparagus this season is magnificent, but I know not to bang on about that especially on an email where the theme this week is masculinity. Our chickens, despite the absence of a cockerel, have been behaving themselves relatively well, albeit it took a particularly sensitive side of me to round them into their pen last night. I was especially pleased with myself given I was in a bit of a hurry to get back in front of the telly to watch Peaky Blinders. And the children too have been rather quiet. Both Hen and Jimmy have broken their phones so are pretty much incommunicado. Bob is thick into his A level exams. Well not exactly A levels…this week it has been AS resits more like. Mind you, an old friend of mine and I were nattering about our children, as one often does, at lunch today and turned out that his son was re-sitting his Geography AS in 15 minutes time just as Bob was, so that was reassuring.
But having not mentioned Hen for a while…..well blow me down, got to tell you, I’ve just heard from her. She’s going to meet me at Liverpool Street this evening and is coming home for the weekend. Happy days. The thing about Hen, just to bring you up to speed, is that she has shifted her fund raising attentions from the Red Cross to….wait for it……Greenpeace. What??? When she told me she was thinking of leaving the Red Cross initially she said she was thinking about going into teaching. So when she said a few days later that she had decided on working for Greenpeace I don’t mind telling you I was a wee bit disappointed. I swallowed my various prejudices and was quite proud of myself as I heard myself asking her how this was going to give her longer term options. “Oh”, she said to me, “Don’t worry, dada, in six months time you’ll probably hear I’ve been padlocked to an oil rig in the Arctic Circle. There’s no end of opportunities for me.”
What can you say about that? Manly enough??!
No comments:
Post a Comment