So, armed with my new resolve to blog a little more often, I'm on a train to London. I put it off for as long as possible as it's far more pleasant in Bristol with the balcony doors open and the seagulls making the sort of racket only seagulls can make. I have an early start tomorrow - although that only involves sitting indoors waiting for someone who might turn up at any point between 7am and 1pm to deliver some documents - so have to get down to London tonight. The train is absolutely packed, mostly with Australians on their way back from the cricket in Cardiff, being rather loud and drinking lots of beer, and making jokes about pornography and homosexuals and generally behaving in the way one might expect Australians to behave.
The ones across the aisle from me have an inflatable sheep in their beer bag; I can just see its hoof sticking out. (Not that I've been able to identify it as such just by its hoof; they've been talking about their failure to produce it during the match. Not sure if they have a sheep because they're Australian, or because they were visiting Wales, or perhaps both?)
As I'm sure I've told people before, I once attempted to buy an inflatable sheep online for a 'Farmers for Europe' stall, which Britain in Europe was having at one of the big country shows. Not a wise move. The choice basically narrows down to whether you want two or three orifices, and whether or not the sheep is wearing lipstick, and I didn't think Lord Sainsbury - who more or less bankrolled BIE - would have approved. But who knows, the farmers might have been rather impressed, or at least distracted enough for me to be able to lure them into a conversation about the Common Agricultural Policy and the effect of fluctuating exchange rates on farm exports.