don't you?
He sat in our drawing room sipping
gin and flat tonic... flat because we hardly ever drink it.
My first meeting with the man of the moment...
Nigel Farage.
I know in polite conversation you should never talk
race, religion or politics, however...
I've never been known to toe the line.
In those days I lived on the top of a hill, I still do; only another hill
deeper into Kent.
'I so love living on the top of a hill, it means you can look down on people!'
issued forth out of my motor mouth.
Simon, my then partner said in his fruity, public school voice
'Spoken like a true socialist Linda!'
Simon, I ought to say now, was a dyed in the wool Tory.
An unholy alliance one might think and across the dinner table we tried,
oh so hard, not to talk politics.
After cooking dinner in a Royal household in 1997,
I stayed up all night to watch the results of a victory for the Labour party.
Climbing into bed at 4 am...
the thought of getting up at 7 am to cook the full English held no fear.
I was one happy chef.
First thing in the morning Simon phoned to congratulate me on Labour's
landslide win.
Not sure I would have done the same?
Fast forward a couple of years; not too many as Simon died in 2000.
I can't exactly remember how, via Nigel's father I think, who lived half way down the hill, we met the man of the moment!
For the first time in our relationship, Simon and I had common ground re. politics.
We were unhappy about what was going on in the EU.
I seem to remember we both, for the first time ever,
voted the same way at the ballot box.
As I stood outside the Chilcot enquiry, on that cold January day,
I just hoped Simon could see me demonstrating against
Blair taking us into an illegal war.
He would have laughed so hard.
I don't mind admitting I'm in a political no-mans-land.
What with cross-party Liar-Gate...
you can't put a fag-paper between them.
I've always voted, it's me age I suppose?
And old habits die hard...
so who to vote for?
UKIP... that's the answer...
well that is...
until I'd read in the paper our Nige
was dining with Murdoch.
Oh dear...
Twang your suspenders Miss Whiplash,
I've got a horrible feeling, I'm now going to waste my vote on you.
He sat in our drawing room sipping
gin and flat tonic... flat because we hardly ever drink it.
My first meeting with the man of the moment...
Nigel Farage.
I know in polite conversation you should never talk
race, religion or politics, however...
I've never been known to toe the line.
In those days I lived on the top of a hill, I still do; only another hill
deeper into Kent.
'I so love living on the top of a hill, it means you can look down on people!'
issued forth out of my motor mouth.
Simon, my then partner said in his fruity, public school voice
'Spoken like a true socialist Linda!'
Simon, I ought to say now, was a dyed in the wool Tory.
An unholy alliance one might think and across the dinner table we tried,
oh so hard, not to talk politics.
After cooking dinner in a Royal household in 1997,
I stayed up all night to watch the results of a victory for the Labour party.
Climbing into bed at 4 am...
the thought of getting up at 7 am to cook the full English held no fear.
I was one happy chef.
First thing in the morning Simon phoned to congratulate me on Labour's
landslide win.
Not sure I would have done the same?
Fast forward a couple of years; not too many as Simon died in 2000.
I can't exactly remember how, via Nigel's father I think, who lived half way down the hill, we met the man of the moment!
For the first time in our relationship, Simon and I had common ground re. politics.
We were unhappy about what was going on in the EU.
I seem to remember we both, for the first time ever,
voted the same way at the ballot box.
As I stood outside the Chilcot enquiry, on that cold January day,
I just hoped Simon could see me demonstrating against
Blair taking us into an illegal war.
He would have laughed so hard.
I don't mind admitting I'm in a political no-mans-land.
What with cross-party Liar-Gate...
you can't put a fag-paper between them.
I've always voted, it's me age I suppose?
And old habits die hard...
so who to vote for?
UKIP... that's the answer...
well that is...
until I'd read in the paper our Nige
was dining with Murdoch.
Oh dear...
Twang your suspenders Miss Whiplash,
I've got a horrible feeling, I'm now going to waste my vote on you.
We've NEVER been known indulge in polite conversation - Yuk!
ReplyDeleteNo, LL, you always vote because you are a woman. Sometimes I think feminism is dying, so please don't forget how long it took for us to win universal suffrage and Vote, Vote, Vote.
But maybe not for Nigel...
Dear Nilly, I will ALWAYS vote; however disenchantment dogs my every step up to the polling station. Is it democracy when our chosen representatives vote on our behalf, the way the whips tell them?
ReplyDeleteLLX