Yuck! to all of that. This FB post from a friend and all round lovely guy sums up how the day should be marked, as far as I’m concerned…
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The thort of a tea party in the garden with no guests is dreadful simply dreadful
Some of us have better things to do than catch gerrummnms from our neighbours attempts to be friendly
I just want to finish my parrot before I go mad trying to keep cats and knitting seperate
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That’s what the dolls are for.
(In pathological cases, cats dressed up as dolls.)
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Remembrance isn’t rationed, of course, but we already have a perfectly good 11 November.
And I shall stop there (although we also have a perfectly good politics thread)
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What happened to ‘Protect the NHS’?
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Staying at home rather than presenting as bonkers seems to me as though it should save NHS resources.
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Ye gods! dollies too!!!
Is there a cellar boke bucket for them of us as hates the mawkish idea of dollies tea parties involving anyone over the age of 5?
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I was thinking more of the blood transfusions and stitching that would be needed by anyone trying that kind of thing on a self-respecting cat…
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I think it’s just “the Cellar”.
Feline Stockholm Syndrome…
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Blimey! Is remembrance ‘politics’? Not in my head it ain’t but then, I don’t ‘do’ politics - or read politics threads for that matter.
Still, I shall consider myself rebuked and not mention my take on this subject again, even in reply to what others have said about it in this thread.
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Not at all, TFM
It’s all slightly (!) surreal, isn’t it?
In another life, many moons ago, this was the busiest week of my year, as I was the volunteer responsible for fundraising for The Red Cross in Chesterfield.
I used to visit 10 Pubs per night collecting money & didn’ t have a drink in any ovvem…
Friday & Saturday were the Street Collections in the town.
If that wasn’t enuff, it was often the Eurovision Song Contest on the Saturday night… 
I may be found drinking Medicinals, & rocking gently this afternoon…
Carinthia.xx
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Remembrance isn’t politics, necessarily, but the moving of the BH this year and the whole subliminal narrative of the bunting-infested celebrations that were planned certainly is.
I wasn’t rebuking you, TFM, and I’m sorry it came across that way and very sorry indeed to have offended you.
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Not at all, just a bit pissed off - and a lot puzzled, tbh.
No problem though.
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The first I heard of any of this was the World Service suddenly having two minutes of not-quite-silence at eleven this morning – it started out with dead air and then gradually went to wind-over-mic noise and then very faint distant human voices, which weirded me out completely because what on earth was that about?
I didn’t understand what was being said last night, hence my question then.
Probably I simply missed there not being BH last week as there ought to have been according to my wall-calendar (purchased in January), since I ignore them anyway – except perhaps avoiding beauty-spots on BH Mondays.
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I hadn’t realised that your front hedge was waterborne, Armers.
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Ooh, that’s a good point, Fishers. Our house is, after all, grey.
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I took that as Gus meaning that her further comments would be political, TFM, while applauding your friend for doing it right.
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Definitely.
In only tangentially connected news, am currently wishing that our giant neighbourhood saxophonist could be translated to a mountaintop. Mt. Erebus would do nicely.
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Haha! Yes, whilst I do very much enjoy hearing Matt on the trumpet with a band or an orchestra, I am still relieved I don’t live next door to him.
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I am told that there are worse instruments than the self-taught saxophone. But I always remember a jazzman of my acquaintance describing the self-indulgent saxophone solo in one number as “pleasing only to the one doing it, and he ought to wash his hands afterwards.”
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