September's Here Again

A morning of chores.

Come afternoon I nipped out to the Packington Estate. It's probably ten years since I last snooped around here. I remember of that last visit, sheltering under a tree by the river as it absolutely tipped it down. Then, it eventually dawning on me that the river surface was as smooth as it had been when I last checked, and that the impression I had of it still pouring was owing to the large drips on my head from the leaves immediately above me.

Packington has two negative points. The first and obvious is the ever growing adjacent landfill. The summit is crowned with yellow trucks and diggers. The other is that Packington being the grand seat of the Earl of Aylesford, his noble lordship has erected a plethora of 'Packington Estate Keep Out' signs.

Speaking of nobs, in the evening Cath and I saw 'The Riot Club' at the cinema. It's based on the play 'Posh' by Laura Wade. I confess I did laugh at the first half pranks and during the second half too, when two club toffs burst into the gents each with a bread basket for a helmet and long baguettes as rifles, chucking in a couple of bread grenades on exit. But the film developed into an illustration of the club's collective disregard for person and property, astonishment that the oily unwashed should have standards or scruples, and from supposed leaders-in-waiting, full frontal mis-judgment. They were chicken too. The finale is insane yet reinforces how with the right tie and connections, 'minor misdemeanours' are appropriately swept under the carpet.

September