Way too late at night

Dickie Three

Richard III tomorrow. MiB tonight. They arrived with LPL at one in the morning. That's about four hours past my bedtime. We stayed up until after two talking. LPL had been to Brighton Pride as had MM, and we had to lot to catch up on with MiB. Still. Going to be tired early tomorrow. Probably grumpy too. Too old for this staying up late malarky.

Undernourished

A busy morning. Replaced the faulty security light. Picked up MM's parcel. Dropped LPL off at her mate's. Did other stuff that I've forgotten. Suddenly I was late for cricket, and I'd eaten a vitamin pill and joint-pain-easing pill, washed down with soluble vitamin C drink. Luckily I didn't have too much to do in the field other than stop a few and hold onto the catch that came roughly in my direction. Even so I was definitely starting to feel a bit dodgy when tea came at five-ish.

Grass roots sport

There's a double dip recession going on. Pay is tight and everyone is tightening their belt. Now, we are told, in not the time to put up your prices. It punishes those least able to afford paying more.

The Olympics, we are told, was a fantastic event. We've all got to jump up and down and wave flags and everyone should be proud and all sport is to be encouraged. Particularly at grass roots level.

Despite what we're told, last year our cricket club had to pay £50 per pitch and this year we're having to pay £56.66 per pitch. We're strictly smalltime. Just one side. No youth or colts or anything. Strictly not for profit. The £50 was with VAT (why are we paying VAT?) and now the £56.66 is exclusive of VAT. The local council were charging us the £50. Now it is a private company sticking us for the £68.

That's a 36% price hike. During a recession. In a year the politicians are singing and dancing about the Olympics and sport and all that.

It don't feel like it at grass roots. Down here, it feels like we're being well and truly stiffed.

Maybe it's just the way they do sums. Some sort of mathematical anomaly local to Westminster. Like when they vote themselves a pay rise and calculate their expenses.

Shadow

Whenever MM came home, she didn't know what to do with herself. She was overcome. She would run and get the old football he'd given her. This was uncanny, because she would leave it all over the house and garden, all random places. Then, in an instant, she was able to find it and start doing laps of MM with the ball in her mouth.

When a squirrel under chase conditions ran up a tree, she would sit there, looking up at the branches, as if she were questioning the fair play of the little beggars being able to scale trees when dogs can't. A “this can't be right” expression, “I'll just wait here, I'm sure he'll be back down soon”.