Wake me up when September ends …’.  The words of Green Day in 2005.  I remember it well and loved it then – and now.  For some reason, it has come into my head more than once of late.  Mournful, it just seems to mirror the mood.  It’s a song about loss and, as summer fades, we are hurtling towards the end of a year which never was.  The seasons were a blur, one month ran into the next and I defy anyone to know which day it is!  Back to the genius that is bears and the whole hibernation thing.  Forget waking me up when September ends, leave me until at least May next year!  I could catch up on all my beauty sleep (yes, I know, I know, no need!), lose any excess fat (yes, I know, do need!) and, moreover, I wouldn’t be able to spend any money.  Win-win!

When I grow up, I want to don a fluorescent tabard and hard hat, lay out loads of traffic cones and install a set of temporary lights, thus indicating that some road repair work is imminent.  Hang on!  Bear with!  Bear with! (Almost 200 words so far …) Then, having ensured maximum disruption, I shall disappear, procure myself a greasy’ butty’ and coffee and enjoy the unnecessary, enforced delay from a safe distance while all around self-combust!  Ah, that little bit of sadistic humour which lies dormant in us all – more dormant in some than others.  Anyway, suffice to say that there is a main stretch of road coming into St Andrews – the back way, as I have always called it – and it seems it is a magnet to roadworks.  Lights and cones seem to come and go with increasing frequency and, only yesterday, I was one of many cars sitting waiting, patiently, for nothing!  No sign of any bodies modelling yellow tabards, we were little more than sitting ducks.  How stupid are we?  Made me think what it would feel like to have that kind of unquestioned control over others; the power to determine the timing of someone else’s day and, consequently, his/her mood.  Potentially, the power to mock!  Funnily enough, I think there are a few people who find themselves in positions of authority who could enlighten me …

On the subject of government ministers, my blood pressure was raised – as ever – by the appearance of Jacqui (with an ‘i’) Smith on ‘Good Morning Britain’, today.  Appearing onscreen to offer her tuppence worth with regard to the furore over Matt Hancock’s defence of former Australian PM, Tony Abbott, as a potential UK trade envoy – despite concerns about previous homophobic and sexist remarks – I knew I recognised her but couldn’t quite place her.  ‘Sexy’ new image!  Of course.  No surprise.  Who wouldn’t attempt to deem themselves unrecognisable as the former Labour Home Secretary under Gordon Brown who, in 2009, was the most high-profile figure in the parliamentary expenses scandal claiming a total of £157,631 in taxpayer-funded allowances?  She alleged that her sister’s ‘spare room’ in South London was her main residence while her, owned, family home in her constituency of Redditch was her ‘second home’!  Her long list of expenses beggared belief, including a barbecue, patio heater, two washing machines, a stone sink and an antique fireplace but the pièce de résistance was the cost of the two rented porn films for the husband she paid £40,000, annually, out of public funds, to be ‘her adviser’!  My question is how did she ever escape prosecution for fraud?  Moreover, did she ever pay the money back?

Not worked up at all!  Honestly, to see that woman on my screen being given any credence whatsoever – let alone money – is nothing short of insulting!  Who is interested in the opinion of someone who was happy to use her position as a public servant to defraud the very people she was elected to serve?  Heinous woman.  Honestly, I feel as though we are swimming in a sea of sharks rendered all the more dangerous by our own utter stupidity.

… and breathe.  You’ll love my next topic!  How about one-year-old Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor being listed as a joint claimant with his mother in a case heard for the first time, yesterday, in the High Court in London?  I jest not.  In ‘The Telegraph’ online dated 3rd September, Royal Correspondent, Hannah Furness, enlightened me as to the fact that The Duchess of Sussex and her baby son, together, are suing a photo agency which “papped” them while out walking near their rented home on Vancouver Island, Canada in January.

The case is being brought by the Duchess in her own right, and she is listed as a “litigation friend” for Archie, a legal term meaning she is appointed to make decisions about the court case for her child.’

Did I miss something?  Has the world been taken over by the little green men?  No, that’s insulting.  Don’t pass the buck.  It is they who are boldly seeking intelligent life on our planet and, quite obviously, to no avail.  ‘”Litigation friend”’?  Meghan Markle ‘appointed to make decisions about the court case for her child’?  Well, I’m sure the one-year-old Archie is very grateful for his mother’s assistance, granted he has not long escaped the womb, but forget assisting Archie, for God’s sake, and send the cavalry for Harry!

I am beginning to fear there are not enough hours in the day to digest the ludicracy which is increasingly permeating life today.  My head is spinning, my notebook full and it just keeps on coming!  On Wednesday, a hairdressing salon in Stroud, Gloucestershire placed an advert on the Jobcentre Plus website, the relevant part of which follows: ‘This is a busy friendly small salon, so only happy, friendly stylist need apply.’  Nothing wrong with that … except, apparently, there is.  Not an hour and a half later, the owner received a phonecall from the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) stating the advert could not be placed due to the use of ‘a discriminatory word’: that word being ‘happy’!  Seemingly, it implies that if one is not happy then one cannot apply.  Not even deserving of an exclamation mark.  Thankfully, the owner refused to comply but, of course, a DWP spokesperson has, now, apologised for the ‘error’ and offered to repost the original copy.  Funny that … except that it isn’t.

I wonder whether these little green men have room for one more on the flight home?  Forget intelligent life, I’d settle for sanity!  Actually, on second thoughts, the planet Org can wait.  I’m heading for Sweden where they think for themselves.  Let me just add Patricia Borg as a friend on Facebook …

Summer has come and past
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends.’

Green Day, When September Ends.

This is Trish, signing off.