Ten days into Movember and my moustache is starting to itch. Every time I kiss Philippa now she pulls back with a repulsed look on her face. That’s got nothing to do with Movember, by the way, it’s just the state of our marriage.
I suppose I should mention the US election. It is, after all, the big news story of the week. Possibly the biggest news story of the year. Depends on what other strange turns of events we’re yet to face in this weirdest, most unpredictable of all years. I did sit up on Tuesday night and watch a bit of the election coverage. I was hoping that Hillary would sweep the first few states and I could go to bed happy, but no. When I turned in most of the results were pending, meaning it was closer than anticipated, so I quickly wrote this as a possible blog post for Weds morning:
“Sadly, the election is too close to call, so here we go with months of legal bollocks and bitchiness til we finally find out who won sometime in the New Year, and in the meantime we’ll be bored to death by yet more wrangling and accusations. I think they should just put them in a locked room together and the last one standing is the winner. I’m confident she could kick his arse. (Sorry, we’re talking about Americans - I mean she could kick his ASS.)”
I was hoping to wake up and hear about a Donald Trump landslide. By which I mean - that he’d been buried underneath one.
But as the Rolling Stones once said “You can’t always get what you want.”
Now let’s never speak of it again.
Let’s ignore it, and pretend it never happened.
RC 10-11-16
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