I think I must be at the end of a rainbow.
I am on the taxi rank, where despite the brilliant sunshine, the rain is lashing down in shimmering cascades.
If there is a pot of gold it must be in somebody else’s taxi.
I have been sitting here quietly for ages, listening to stories on the telephone, and knitting. Life is very much nicer now that I can’t switch on the BBC any more. I am not tempted to listen to the news, and it has improved my taxi afternoons no end.
I can still find out about the shenanigans of the rest of the world, because I still have the online newspaper, which I do read occasionally. Hence I have been very pleased to learn that despite the general pig’s ear the government seems to have been making of its current reign of terror, this week they have achieved one thing that has made me want to stand up and applaud, loudly.
They are going to insist that the stupid fashionable idea of unisex lavatories in public places is outlawed.
Everywhere is going to be obliged, by law, to have proper Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s bathrooms, and a jolly good thing too.
I do not know if they are going to be allowed to call them Ladies and Gentlemen. It turns out that we may not be supposed to say this any more, after somebody on a train felt excluded when the guard said it last week.
I do not know what sort of person might feel excluded. I am prepared to accept that a person might be undecided about which one they want to be. You might even be one sort of person, and then change your mind and get some bits cut off to be the other sort, but presumably the range of options is still limited to one of the two.
I once read a science fiction story which involved a third sex. It wasn’t very good. The author clearly couldn’t think of very much that the third sex might do that wasn’t already adequately covered by the first two, and it stretched credibility rather disappointingly. I have occasionally contemplated a story on the subject myself, but the same applies. Ladies and Gentlemen seem to have it pretty well cleaned up between them.
Anyway, it seems that we are not only going to be allowed to have our own bathroom facilities, but our right to do so is going to be enshrined in law. I am very pleased. I do not like gentlemen’s public bathrooms. They smell of incontinent gentlemen and tend to be uneasily sticky.
Also I do not want gentlemen listening to me wee. It is quite bad enough that we can all hear one another, and we are all ladies. To include gentlemen in that mix is just beyond the pale.
Hence I am happy to be able to tell you that today I am cheering for the Government. They have done something sensible.
About time.
I am going to buzz off in a minute, because I want to get on with my knitting. I am not making very much money, and am only going to stay here until Mark comes home from work, after which we are going to buzz off to the farm for our weekend, which starts tomorrow.
We are going to do some repairs to the camper van. In a very short time we will be making the long trail north to collect Oliver from school, and Mark says that he needs to look at the camper van to make sure that it will get there again.
It has always managed it so far, but we have had one or two troubling moments.
He has bought some hooks to fasten the exhaust back on again, and he keeps going on and on about the brakes, which make a very loud rattly noise. This does not matter very much, apart from being a bit embarrassing, because they work anyway, but he says that he would like to know what it is and stop it.
Hence we are going to spend the next day or two at the farm, patching up the van, and repainting some of the pictures, if the weather is dry.
I have got gate fever.
I took the picture because somebody said they did not know what swifts looked like, but I don’t think it is going to help very much.
The swifts are the black dots.
I might not be a natural wildlife photographer.
