It was a reasonably old episode of Midsomer Murders on the rerun Channel 10 last night. Dad and I missed the first three minutes despite me driving back to Shipston at what he terms breakneck speed, that is to say 50 miles per hour. We'd been at an impromptu party at the hospice.
My youngest sister N had pitched up from Oxford. and So Dad and I stayed on far later than planned as my step mother said we should have a party. I had actually brought in a few bottles for my step siblings to cheer them up. And so we all talked a bit of family holidays in days gone by. Was Pelion 1989 or 1991? Heaven only knows but we played along with the game my step mother suggested of matching years and places.
On best behaviour and not drinking ahead of the drive home, I resisted the urge of teasing my sister about the leadership contest in the People's Party. She takes these matters very seriously. Like me, she and her husband, are loyal members of the Labour Party, albeit from different wings. That is to say they are on the wing that wants Labour to win whereas I am on wing created last summer whose members signed up with a rather different goal. My sister does not regard the future of the movement as a matter for jest, ridicule or banter.. She and her husband both work for the State and, well put it this way she gave him his membership as a Christmas Present. Gosh how romantic.
Suffice to say, neither regard my membership and writings about who should lead our great party (over the precipice) as a matter of amusement whereas my father regards the whole debacle as a real source of joy. Anyhow, N will be over on Thursday as it is her day off. Well one of here three days off in a seven day week. When's my day off in the private sector I wonder. Er...December 25. Yup that's it.
So tomorrow we will take this matter forward. As I explained HERE, an Eagle vs Corbyn contest is a win/win for my wing of the People's Party but the early signs are that N and her husband will be supporting the Blairite, Iraq war fan, Kulak Eagle. From Sheep Street Shipston last night a great cheer went up last night as the news said that Comrade Corbyn needed no nominations at all to enter the contest.
My father is happy that there is a summer of internal strife ahead, to keep him amused. I too look forward to this but am beginning to think that our wing of the party will be swinging behind Corbyn if only to annoy N and her half German husband who, I gather really disapproves of my wing of the party with a passion. To the barricades Comrades, Jezza we can!
Now back to Midsomer where it was Bergerac Barnaby in charge with Sergeant Dan Scott at his side. That tells you - as all Midsomer groupies know - that we are at series 7 or 8 out 18. Dad and I arrived two or three minutes in with Scott in a pub having wagered £50 on a horse race involving the nag Bantling Boy. At this point, as I prepared supper, I outdid my father in not only predicting the first victim of four, who at this point was still alive, but also the killers. My father agreed with my assessment and we concluded that we were indeed great detectives. Of course,after the spilling of large amounts of blood, old Barnaby eventually came to the same conclusion as we knew he would, having both seen the show several times before. Naturally we watched gripped to the very end.
Even the panto in the Labour Party can't beat a good episode of Midsomer.