Life for Lola

During the weekend the Ladyfriend and I went to an old priory which had a Celtic open day, you know the sort of thing, people dressed up in itchy looking costumes whilst wearing Adidas trainers, buggering about grinding corn in reconstructed wattle and daub huts. We had a nice time and the weather was kind, we walked around the moat and I noticed how well behaved the children were. There were no tears, no shrill shouting to break the peace of the day and no swearing. They were all happy making clay animals, chucking pretend spears at wooden cut outs of invaders and generally carrying on in a nice way. Perhaps New Labour should encourage this sort of thing in deprived areas of London, bring mud huts to the masses. At one point I saw a mother and child bent down in the long grass, 'oh' I thought 'how horrid, she's going to let her go for a wee infront of us all and put us off our ice cream wafers'. But no, the mother said to her child 'look darling, can you smell that? It's wild garlic' Lola was pleased, perhaps there is hope after all.