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One of my tenants died several months ago; leaving a widower with a young daughter and younger twin sons. I have done my best to help, but it is an economic relationship. We have signed a new contract, but there were repairs as needed attending to.

My brother recently suffered a TIR; and while he insisted I didn’t visit him in hospital, and seemed to recover, I wanted to see him.

I’ve been meaning to revisit Peterborough for decades. I used to break journey there regularly in the early 80’s, before it became a Poundshop Milton Keynes. Bradford City were drawn to play there last weekend.

So three things came together to send me on the trip. The fact I couldn’t carry tools, into the game, and couldn’t get to my brother’s Abbey soon enough after the game, meant I decide to stay in a bed & breakfast.

Train times were decided by the cheapest available. So 06.30 from Bradford and 11.42 from Peterborough the next day.

It was hard work, I reckon I ended up carrying over 20 kilos, and was stopping every 25 steps on the last climb to the Monastery but it was a successful and joyous trip.

On the 24th June 2016 I, literally, lost all hope. Read the almost suicidal blog from then. Economic collapse and civil war was all I could foresee.

Bit by bit though my faith in England as a nation based on freedom has been seeping back. The vile Daily Mail and Rupert Murdock zombie cur pack that too many people think represent England have nothing but anger and envy. The grime truth of economics,  the glorious truth of human kindness, and this nation’s glorious tradition of allowing anyone to come here and say what they like, has seemingly been working to, pray God, save us from ourselves.

Today the Parliament of the mother of parliamentary democracy stood up for itself, again. The link is to the Financial Times, the only totally politically neutral British newspaper (although it’s attitude to wealth means it’s unlike to be read by many on the hard left, and it’s price means almost nobody else can afford it): FT report on day of Parliamentary glory and Prime Minister’s shame

Even angry, ignorant, tosser Brexiters who’d guess Magna Carta was a new flavour of cider, are failing to scream now.

How May can still not be shamed into resigning, and all that follows, beggars belief.