It's been a weird old week, no? Every morning the Today programme woke me up with more tales of global economic meltdown. I don't understand how banks work -- in fact several of us round a pub table with plenty of maths qualifications between us established that we had no idea what the FTSE numbers actually represent. I've always secretly believed that nobody does really, and indeed that all financial instruments more complicated than a biscuit tin under the bed have something of the Emperors New Clothes about them. And on the evidence of this week, I think I might be right.
I take no great pleasure in this, of course. I don't want thousands of people who earn honest livings to lose their jobs or homes, and I don't want to wake up one day to find that all our stuff are belong to China.
It's pretty gloomy at NGO X as well, as we are busy making ourselves fit for the future and that future has people giving less money to NGOs as they need it all to keep the heating on and buy cheese. There are days when I can see why people choose to be doctors or policemen or schoolteachers. *And* the mortgage has just gone up *and* we don't have a lodger at the moment *and* the weather has that 'I'm going to get cold soon' edge to it that normally I love but this year... this year makes me feel poor.
But I don't turn the radio on on Saturday mornings. Instead I sleep and sleep and sleep until I'm good and ready to wake up. I still have some residual exhaustion (emotional, probably) from the Hot Place, so I wasn't good and ready until nearly 11. M was still asleep too, and we woke up to a sunny, sunny morning, and more silence than you would expect at the end of Freshers Week.
The allotment needs attention. I'm going to pack up last night's leftover curry, make up a bottle of Ribena (we can still afford high-end cordial), get out the hand tools and go and get dirty. It will all, one way or another, work itself out.