August Bank Holiday and at last there's some sun? At least that's what I think it's called, so long since we've seen it you could easily forget and, in the words of my mentor and great grump Mr Victor Meldrew... I don't bloody believe it! Any way, time to divorce myself from the humdrum of rural coppering and spend some time at the pub, reading a book or two, maybe have a meal at the local or, just spend time loafing in the garden with a beer and the paper? Anything has got to be better than doing battle with the great incompetent British motorist towing his tin home behind him!
There was a time when I would almost fight my mates to get the Bank Holiday overtime but even that holds no interest these days. I ask you, who would want to spend their weekend racing from one drunken brawl to the next, getting puked on, getting verbally abused, spending an hour or more trying to get through custody with the obligatory drunken bum prisoner who's just bopped his girlfriend for kissing his spotty mate, then spend the rest of the week with all the paper work? No thanks!
Don't know what you'll be doing but whatever it is stay safe. I'll be spending most of the weekend in the back room snug of the Aidensfield Arms avoiding the general public, hopefully!
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