My overwhelming impression of the media's handling of the new coalition government is that it wants it to fail. I have yet to come across a story that is not hinting at splits, or the impossibility of delivering manifesto commitments or indeed, the last gasp of those whose beloved party is no longer in power and believes, quite incredibly, that Ed Balls will save us.
All I know is that some of the worst excesses of the last lot are to be reversed, which to me is good news. HIPs for example, the universally despised Home Information Packs - an unnecessary and useless bit layer of expense tacked on to the buying of a house. It never delivered information that was going to displace buyer surveys, building society surveys or solicitor's questions. Instead, it created a sad bunch of mickey mouse jobbers who are now presumably looking for another job in the real world. So that, at least is good news for would be home buyers.
The BBC still cannot believe that the old regime is gone. Question Time still stacks its audience with braying and credulous liberals, whose shirts and shoes give away the fact that they owe their livelihoods to the Public Sector. On last night's show, they were all plainly in favour of protecting the human rights of avowed terrorists and of allowing them to remain here to plot more atrocities. What does the BBC think we are? Fools? The QT audience is sifted and stacked to reflect their own agenda. My only question is, will this change now that Cleggameron is in charge?
There are rumblings that Nick Robinson, the BBC's Political Editor may go soon. Laura Kuennsberg is up for it apparently. I love to watch her face when she reports. Her mouth seems to have declared UDI.
Older people like me are supposed to worry less. And do you know, it's true! A few weeks ago, when I had a problem with a neighbour who is now gone, I faced him off. Given that he weighs twice as much as me, is a foot taller, and behaves like a stereotypical truculent Scot, I came out of it rather well. As he literally held his bulging Cro-Magnon fluorescing head about an inch from mine, spluttering expletives and threatening mayhem, mostly at me, my overriding thought was one of mild disdain and curiosity. I was curious as to how this man lives the rest of his life and if he will make his new neighbour's lives a misery, as he threatened to do mine. (Never fuck with the Weasel. I have seen plenty off in my time. It is a skill, inherited from my awful father who in quiet moments was sweetly sentimental, like Kim Jong Il, and in drunken ones was a bit like Russel Crowe, but without the charm)
As for money, which I suppose we all worry about, even if we have lots (especially if we have lots) I have been around that block too many times to let it consume my life.
So, if you are under fifty, and worried about getting old, don't. It is quite nice really. The only thing I will say, is... don't mock old people for moving slowly. They move slow, not because they are infirm or stupid, they move slow to avoid accidentally bumping into things, which is, I am afraid, a bit more painful and damaging for an oldster.
This weekend, I shall mainly be buying a new motor and pottering in the garden. I managed to hit some concrete with the mower yesterday and now it vibrates like hell, which I suppose means a new spindle and/or a new blade.
I have to get my passport renewed. I only mention this because not having a passport makes me feel very uncomfortable, as if I will be severely inconvenienced when MI6 sends me my next orders, to see a man in a white suit, known only as Clive, at the Cafe Ouvre on the Boule Miche.
Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are, and don't forget the Sun Tan lotion.