The week ahead is sponsored by yoyo as I will be up and down to London twice. Even Thursday’s train strike is not going to affect proceedings fingers crossed. Meanwhile I am consuming a cup of tea in the conservatory. My taxi is two and a half hours distant.
It is a Monday morning and the road in front of the house sounds very busy. The noise is exacerbated by the wetness of the road. Last week before schools break up here, unless you are rich and privately educate your children in which case they will already be on holiday.
The concept of a long summer holiday is a good one and has much to be recommended. Work is highly overrated anyway. I realise that someone’s got to do it. Who would otherwise attend to the estate. That ornamental lake doesn’t look after itself you know and the stone temple that stands on the island in the middle would soon lapse into a state of disrepair. It needs regular clearance of the jungle around it.
I wonder what chef has prepared for dinner tonight? Ah no, we are dining out. 🙂
…
The train has left the station, southbound for some metropolitan culture action. Urban sophisticates r us. The carriage is moderately full and has an excited group of what could be RAF types (clean cut etc) headed somewhere on holiday. They are loud but not intrusive. It’s a great feeling going off on holiday, especially with a gang of pals.
I have a table of four to myself. The couple that was due to join me at Grantham spotted a preferable place in the pod behind me. Result. These tables for four in first class are really only designed to take two people at most and ideally just me.
Hurtling we are, hurtling through the ripe fields of pre harvest England. Not a soul in sight. The end game for the agricultural revolution. Everyone has moved to the city and is now rushing around in the satanic factories of Empire in the grim shadows of smoke filled stacks. Either that or home working at their job in IT/accounts/marketing etc etc. etc.
In my phones I am listening to Perlman play Bruch’s Violin Concerto No1. One of my faves and the reason I am headed to the Royal Albert Hall tonight. Not Perlman playing. Not sure he is even still alive. Some Korean or thereabouts superstar violinist. Suretwillbegood.
Our kids were all educated in a state school. With four of them that probably saved me a seven figure sum of money, start to finish, assuming they went to Eton or simlar. Just think of what I’d have had to sacrifice in order to get them through school…