I have the day off work today, while the school is overtaken by a polling station. I don’t normally take any notice of politics, so was surprised to learn last night that the poll is not for the local council - it’s for the police - to choose a new “Chief Inspector”, I guess. That’s probably the wrong title, but you get the idea. (postscript - its the “Police Commissioner”)
A part of the reason I didn’t know anything about the poll is because the Police are not allowed to canvas support in the same way political parties are; they have to remain impartial, and therefore objective. This means they told nobody about the poll, and nobody knows who the candidates are, or what they stand for. Isn’t that great? The only meaningful result of the polling day is that I’m at home with a day booked off work, and so are Miss Seven, and Miss Eight.
Somehow it’s already lunchtime. Jam sandwiches (Jelly, if you’re in the US). I have no clue where the morning went. First thing this morning the builder who lives opposite came to have a look at our wreck of a back garden, to quote for “fixing” it. We used to have wooden decking across the back of the house, until my better half got bored in the summer holidays, and armed with / encouraged by the pretty blonde lady that lives nearby, decided to wreak havoc and destruction. I came home to find half a ton of wooden planks with rusty nails that needed to be moved to the front of the house, and a quagmire.
The planks all vanished one day after we advertised them on the internet for free. The junk you can get rid of if you list it for “free” is amazing. We once advertised old pieces of carpet, and a gardener wearing a woolly hat appeared within the hour to take them away, muttering something about frost cover for his vegetables.
Somebody once took my mountain bike from the back garden for free, even though we hadn’t listed it. The police took a very detailed description on the phone, and then I never heard from them ever again. Somehow I cannot imagine a policeman spotting a stray bicycle, and pulling out a list of “lost bikes” to compare all of their identifying features…
Maybe if one of the prospective Chief Commissioners has a campaign pledge to find my bike, I’ll go and vote for them.
Anyway. I promised to take the kids to the corner shop after lunch to get a comic. They’ve forgotten about it for the moment, but will soon remember.