There’s a new bottleshop down the hill called David’s Cellars. How stupid is that!?
It should be called Peter’s Cellars, surely.
Maybe in the sick, shallow pond that passes as Australian capitalism Peter Sellers is already taken. That’s not my dog.
It’s been a dismal week or two here. Our navy doesn’t know where Indonesia is. We don’t know where our navy is. Or what they’re doing. We don’t know whether we’d rather see asylum seekers a) drown or b) be murdered. Vote now. Our lines are open. Our hearts are closed.
What a thing it is to be in our prosperous, girt land.
The empty, aggressive, bitter coalition – Skullface and Hairdo – never apologised to the stolen generation but this week they apologised for a union crook. And I say to myself what a wonderful world.
I can’t bear it. Here is our old claw foot bath now in the garden and full of basil, tarragon, sage, beans, cucumbers (finished, alas), parsley and radish. I’ve just planted leeks. Coincidentally, Wallington is Welsh and lovely.