

There is a window for “Where were you when…?” questions, I think.
- Kennedy? Nope.
- Moon landing? Just about.
- Challenger? Yep.
- Princess Di? Yep.
- 9/11? Yep.
- Lockdowns? Whatever…
I think that I am drifting past that window nowadays.
There is a window for “Where were you when…?” questions, I think.
I think that I am drifting past that window nowadays.
I’m peripatetic - I move between 3 different offices in a typical week, plus occasionally WFH. So:
Beautifully shot and some fine performances all round. Very much a character-based one though. Don’t go into it looking for action or fast-moving plot.
Threads (1984). I was in shock for a week when I first saw that. No horror film has come close.
The 1983 UK general election.
However, since I lived in a Tory safe seat (taking boundary changes into account, the last time that location had been anything except tory was a Whig in the C19th) I spoiled my ballot - writing some pithy comment across it about how meaningless the process was. That showed them!
Checking now, I see that it has continued as a Tory safe seat up to the present day.
Beach with other people? Nope. No interest at all.
Deserted beach, where you can roam, explore cliffs and rockpools and so on? Well, they have an atmosphere, so maybe sometime.
Forest? Yes, definitely. Hiking will take you away from anyone else, and there will be plenty of opportunities for wildlife spotting one way or another.
I work for a national charity in the UK. The organisation’s policies have been dragged into the culture wars, but have not succumbed so far.
My role isn’t directly involved with that side of things though. When planning, I am considering things like potential future supply chain issues, security of/access to services, potential threats, likely changes in resource use, likely changes to legislation and so on, all of which can be affected by national and international politics but, day-to-day, politics doesn’t have a great effect beyond those.
During WWII, my dad was posted to guard a munitions factory in Worcester. Mum worked in that factory. Evidently dad was initially interested in one of mum’s friends, but they hit it off shortly afterwards.
After they married, dad brought her back to a smallholding in rural East Anglia, where he lived with his parents and three siblings. They apparently thought that mum’s Worcester accent was Welsh.
I don’t drink either - or any other hot drinks. I have never liked them.
There was a while when, every other year or so, in the depths of winter, I would get it into my head that my tastes might have changed and would accept someone’s offer of something: tea, coffee, hot chocolate or whatever. But I’d always end up taking one sip and realise my folly.
And, no, Iced tea or similar does nothing for me either.