Sunday, 12 May 2013

Weasel Weekend #1

It's been raining on and off so far. On the plus side I have finally sold my redundant brushcutter. What I really need now is a sure fire way to reduce moss in the garden and get some decent grass growing.

But never mind all that. The political weekend has been dominated yet again by Europe. And why not? It is rather important. Call me old fashioned, but I have taken to getting the newsprint edition of The Times (US: "The London Times") left in the bus shelter on Saturdays. The bus shelter is where all the papers are left because it would be a bit of a hike for the paper-boy to go around our hamlet. Well, the London Times has Matthew Parris as one of their long-serving and most able commentators and Matthew sums up the Europe question really well; he doesn't know! None of us really know what it would be like out of the European Union but some of us think we should prefer to be out and I am one of them.

One of the difficult issues I have at the moment is that I am very sympathetic to the Scottish Nationalist campaign for independence, but avowedly anti-EU. As Nigel Farage so helpfully pointed out recently, it is a bit daft shouting about independence from wicked England, only to embrace Brussels like a long lost and domineering auntie. (My analogy, not his). Ditto the Irish Republicans - a cause who I also sympathize with up to and excluding violence. It always puzzles me that the Irish spend a century battling British "oppression", only to replace it with EU oppression.

Elsewhere my mind wanders to lighter things. I have discovered a new and exotic source of beer. (Gee, I wish I was being paid for this). Go over to and take a look. I have had some really nice beer delivered, namely two from the Kona (US) brewing company called Longboard and Fire Rock and one of a Swiss Beer called 1936. I particularly commend the Fire Rock. It is full of flavour and just delightful.

I am giving Eurovision a miss this year. Yuichh! our entry girl is older than me!!!  Gone are the days of ABBA when you hoped for a glimpse of the girls' knickers. With Bonnie Tyler you just don't want to go there.

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