Off my tits as I am on two weeks of lovely medication I am feeling somewhat better then when I last blogged. So much so that I've declared war in defence of my garden. The student led destruction of my garden continues unabated, a fridge, kitchen unit, drawers and umpteen bags of rubbish have now been dumped atop my poor plants and seedlings.
It's hard to say exactly what ended my state of defeat, prescription drugs were part of it but the outrage of some of my neighbours at the state of my garden spurred me and them into action. I spent the afternoon fighting off flies and transferring the rubbish on the path in to the empty bins. I then agreed with my neighbours to write to environmental health, all the local property managers and local councillors about the frightful state of the place. After all that I felt I couldn't really tell my neighbours that I had in fact abandoned the garden -not when they were being so complimentary about my begonias. I'm off to the garden centre in the morning for summer bedding, a selection of self seeders and something thorny -let them try to pull that out.
Elsewhere I see the government has descended into farce. That said am I alone in thinking Gordon Brown would be as well staying in the top job until the election? Everywhere I go on the internet people are demanding he resigns. I honestly can't see the point, I very much doubt he's significantly worse than anyone else in the Labour Party. What difference will a new face make at this late stage? Everyone knows the tories are getting in at the next election no matter what happens, who cares who leads the Labour Party into defeat?
The tories though, it's a sobering prospect. I remember them last time. It was grim. Bearing in mind I was a mere child for most of it and I must confess I did enjoy the miners strike but other than that my memories consist of absurdly high interest rates, my parents being skint, my dad on the dole for six months, Thatcher cheating the Brighton bomb and an education that would insult the intelligence of a dead dog. Mind you if it wasn't for the tories we'd never have had the experience of a Religious Studies essay being confiscated by the police at our school. Apparently the police reckoned the essay was promoting homosexuality, happily the essay got off due to lack of evidence and was returned to it's somewhat surprised author who co-incidentally was the first woman I ever slept with.
As far as I can tell we'll merely be exchanging being fucked over by people with mortgages for being shafted by folk with moats. Anyone fancy joining me in a nice Passport to Pimlico style uprising?
UPDATE: In addition to the above my garden is now home to what I thought was a dead body until it asked me what I was looking at and called me a cunt.