Thursday, July 29, 2004

Sleepin' in the woods by a fire in the night, drinkin' white rum in a Portugal bar....

Yes, tomorrow, the family Piper will be heading of to Lagos in Potugal for the annual bookfest and steady intake of alcohol that is otherwise known as a holiday. This could be the last time... (as Mick and Keef once wrote), because eldest one is off to Liverpool University in September, and you never know what happens after that.  The brother-in-law has packed his cases and is coming up to stay in our house in sunny Sandwell... I'll think of him (but not often, I suspect...) oh, and if you're reading this mate, mow that spare patch of grass outside we call 'the lawn'.

I think I'm going to be sick. There can be few more disgusting stories in the news than this.  At least (I assume) they will not be pursuing Paddy Malloy's family with an invoice for his porridge whilst he was being tortured and abused at Her Majesty's pleasure. These people were held hostage in degrading and inhuman conditions for 18 years by the British Government. Those responsible should be begging for forgiveness on bended knees instead of behaving in this way. Whatever next... perhaps Bush could charge Cuban holiday rates to those imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay, and the people who kept Terry Waite chained to a radiator in Beirut for nearly five years should pursue the Archbishop of Canterbury for the outstanding board and lodging fees. Have we all gone bloody mad?