The Middle Of The Night

 My mother called me at around two in the morning, waking me from a dream in which I'd been walking round an enormous hospital trying to find- well, I'm not sure what I was trying to find. 

"You called," I said.

"Ah yes. What did I call you for?"

"Only you can possibly know that."

"Something about tender loving care."

I don't know what she meant,  but I think she was asking me to complete the quotation or tell her its source.

"You do know it's the middle of the night?"

"What?"

"It's the middle of the night."

So she apologised and I said it was fine and went back to bed. Five minutes later she said out loud to herself or whoever she thought was in the bedroom with her, "It's the middle of the night."

Wishful Thinking

 From the way the birds are carrying on I think they think it's spring. There are long-tailed tits in the mix; a species I'm always happy to see..It's not spring, of course, not by a long chalk, but I'm willing to grab at any sign that it's on its way. 

This time last year we were seeing daffodils in flower on the roadside verges on the way to Romney Marsh. This year we haven't yet been to Romney Marsh but I doubt that there are daffodils to see. All the winter storms with silly names will have held them back. Our own daffodils are just beginning to push their snubby little green noses through the soil.  I've just looked through the window to see if there are any snowdrops on the bank where snowdrops grow and there are- one at least. Hooray!

The New Diplomacy

 The new fashion in international diplomacy- as set by the USA's refreshingly unconventional president- is really rather exciting. No more beating about the bush, no more empty courtesy.  If you think a particular nation's a shit-hole just say it loud and proud and no doubt they'll thank you for being so open with them. 

Lets hope it catches on. I can think of no better way to get the Brexit negotiations moving than for us to imitate the action of the tiger and tell the Huns, Wops and Froggies exactly what we've always thought of them.

I don't know what the slang term for a Luxembourgeois is but If one doesn't exist I'm sure we could think of something appropriately colourful. Perhaps the Daily Mail could run a competition...