Monday. 8.45 a.m. Yet another bright and sunny morning. It seems almost spring-like, but, knowing the weather in this country, it's likely to change at very short notice.
As I'm sure I've mentioned in these blog posts at some stage or other, I am in the process of reading a set of books, although in no way connected by authors, which cover the history of Great Britain from around 1870 right up to, as near as possible, the current time. Of course, when such a book is being researched, the author has to allow some material, usually government papers, to be de-restricted, which is generally after 30 years, and in some cases, even more, usually where there is an element of secrecy involved, such as material which might be deemed sensitive, which might put the security of the nation in jeopardy.
I have now reached the 1980s, with the rise of Margaret Thatcher. During the 1970s we had endless strikes, which I remember vividly. Edward Heath and Harold Wilson and eventually James Callaghan met their match with the various unions in that period, which lead to each administration's downfall.
I was thinking, with the current crop of strikes which are happening at the moment, such as rail workers, N.H.S. nurses and others, as well as teachers (and possibly others, which I can't remember which or whom.), it does somehow seem we're in the midst of the 1970s 'Winter of Discontent.' The difference I can see is that there are acts of Parliament in place to keep control of such actions the unions took in the 1970s, such as mass picketing, and there aren't as many people in unions as there were then.
Tuesday. 6.40 a.m. Alfie insisted on being taken out at around 6.20. I think it was rapidly approaching an emergency. He kept poking me with his paw, so it seemed a good idea to do as he wanted. I put him in the lounge with the door shut and no sooner had I shut the door than he began barking. t then took me five minutes to get myself fully dressed and I took the small torch with me when we got out onto the grass alongside Strudwick Drive, I found a slight frost. I will now have to check that the car isn't iced over as a result of overnight frost before I drive off to Camphill this morning.
4.40 p.m. I had to scrape a certain amount of ice off the car's windows before I went to Camphill. It wasn't much effort and, even with the sun shining, it was quite chilly this morning.
At Camphill Terrie is absent (she's the leader of the theatre workshop.) as well as several other members of the gang. As 'Twelfth Night' has finished, we're beginning to get ideas for the next play. Paul, who is Terrie's assistant, was in charge of things, and he had a whiteboard on which other people involved with the play had come up with what they had enjoyed about 'Twelfth Night' and what they'd like to do as the next production. The general idea is to allow the Camphill theatre workshop gang to have their say on what is produced. We then watched a video, via BBC iPlayer, of a production of 'Twelfth Night,' which was on at the Shakespeare Globe Theatre in London.
Wednesday. 8.20 a.m. Quite a sharp frost this morning. I'm unsure whether there's ice on the car windows and I have to drive to Sainsbury's, so I'm likely going to have to scrape any off before I drive off.
I pay a service charge at Dexter House, and I have always paid it with my debit card online. It is usually a simple matter of going to the Milton Keynes Council website and entering my details, but it changed completely this morning, so I couldn't pay. I have made several attempts, but with no success. It seems someone has decided to change it, making things difficult. No doubt this will be resolved at some point in the next day or two, but why change something which works perfectly well?
10.45 a.m. The situation regarding the payment, as mentioned above, is now resolved. Paid and sorted out.
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