I’m a little teapot
Saturday we went to an airshow. Well, no. Not an airshow, really. A small country show at a little airfield way out in the boonies. We ran ahead of a terrible storm the whole way getting there, paid our £5 to get in, just started a wander round and the heavens opened. I mean, pissing down with rain.
Uncle B and I got separated and I was zipped into a tent with a man selling WWII memorabilia. I passed over the spiffy Nazi dress dagger in favor of this teapot. It celebrates Victory over Hitlerism and it’s chipped so I probably overpaid, but it seemed like a thing I had to buy right then.
The media here is still losing their freaking minds over Brexit. Ditto the political classes. I don’t think there’s any way they can roll it back without facing a wall of torches and pitchforks, but they’re going to give it the old college try.
In and among the wailing and gnashing of teeth, there are some good articles, too. Like this one from the Spectator. I particularly like calling the opposition Remainders. Remainiacs sounds ooo scary and dangerous and powerful. Remainders sound like leftovers.
In the end, the rain stopped (for a while) and some planes got up. In the half hour before the heavens opened again, Uncle B got some spectacular shots of prop planes against enormous banks of cloud. And then it rained again.
I love heavy weather. Just as well, really.
June 27, 2016 — 9:28 pm
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