I am not a patient person; virtue is, therefore, in short supply.  I am waiting, now impatiently, for my OU documentation to arrive.  I have the bit almost within reach of my teeth and just want to chomp right in.  I even have some ideas for my dissertation.   So bloody, bloody hurry up.

I watched Fiona Bruce make a tit of herself with the Duke of Edinburgh last night.  Not very edifying.  Contrary to opinion over at the Guardian, I thought her interview was worse, infinitely worse, than Alan Titchmarsh’s, which I also watched.  Given that she rather lamely defended her career, she should have done a better job; or perhaps the beeb should have sent someone with a bit more nous.  Both interviews were agenda driven and somewhat prosaic but Titchmarsh, after all, is a gardener and has something of an excuse.

All my Wrens nostalgia seems to be driving me at the moment.  It’s ironic that I’m now able to look fondly back; for a long time I was fairly traumatised to the point that when a certain WOMAA (Warrant Officer Master at Arms) of my acquaint appeared on that Channel 4 morning programme where they did a live broadcast from somewhere interesting, I was left with flashbacks.  A bit like an old episode of Dr Who with no sofa to hide behind, not even a cushion.  To the gentleman in question, I wish you botulism, and I don’t mean Keith Chegwin.

It is lovely to see people moving on with their lives, and also lovely to see that I am apparently remembered fondly.  I don’t feel like the scourge I have believed I must have been for gone twenty years and that’s quite refreshing.  I’m sure that’s what’s given me this new vim and vigour.

Anyway, whatever it is, I’ll just welcome it.  It’s bringing with it a period return to Tannochbrae and an opportunity to extend myself again and that can only be good.


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