Autumn seems to have arrived while I was busy pondering other things. Well, it’s about three weeks late – another thing to blame on global warming, the greenhouse effect, Liberal Democrats and/or George Galloway and the war in Iraq, I suppose. These things don’t just happen nowadays; everything has to be blamed on somebody.
Personally I have chosen to blame the boiler man. He won’t come out and look at the boiler at the Athenaeum Club so I have picked him to carry the weight of responsibility for warmer winters and receding ice caps and all that malarkey. I blame him for the pelican that ate the pigeon in St James’s Park yesterday, too. (Not that it’s a slow news day or anything, but the pelican, complete with pigeon poking out of its bill got its photo on the front page of The Times this morning. I know that experts want us to cut back on consumption of North Sea cod, but that is ridiculous.
To welcome and inaugurate the new, appropriately seasonal weather, I seem to have developed a throaty cough and congestion. This is irritating and I suppose that I shall have to nip out to Boots to get something for it before it all develops in to a fully fledged cold. This is separate to the global warming issue and I blame our landlord. The causal chain of misery stretches through the years of zero investment in the Athenaeum Club, to the failure of the lock at the weekend and me getting stuck for two hours in the cold and damp that is Whetstone this time of year.
I’m off for lunch with a former colleague shortly. Pizza, I expect. So much for the diet.
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