Hurrah for those souls who pushed for women's suffrage, including Emmeline Pankhurst who fully understood the impact of a Grand Statement.
I was thinking of Emily Davison and her mad dash towards King George V's nag at the Epsom Derby in 1913 while I sat in the sun today on the beach at Broadstairs.
If it hadn't been for the stellar work of those people willing to put personal comfort and public ridicule to one side, I'd have had to BE IN WORK!!!!
I'm a massive fan of elections. We should vote on everything.... All the time. I think we should be voting next week on the colour of Gordon Brown's shoes. The week after we should be deciding on Yvette Cooper's neckline. Those ancient Greeks in Athens were true heroes.
You see, some of us are fortunate enough to work in an educational establishment that happens to be used, when necessary, as a Polling Station.
We are right behind the notion of 'Majority Rule'.
Even if I'd wanted to go into work today, I would have been sent home. BY LAW!
We cruised out of South East London with the air of kids who were bunking off and arrived at Broadstairs in sunshine. What a gorgeous day. We sat with our toes digging in the sand and watching the beach volleyball and, (I'm not kidding here), the surfers.
No news of course from the Valley. No take over. No new players. A couple of kids who weren't ever going to make it to the first team got released. That is all. Everything else is just conjecture and papertalk. It's all getting very frustrating. It's only a month until the first pre season game and it would seem that the club still haven't got around to doing anything other than washing the kits used in the game against Norwich City.
Casual Rating- Broadstairs.
A pair of vintage Adidas Forest Hills goes to the absolutely gorgeous cafe in Broadstairs called 'Connells'. The most luscious latte, made with 'illy' brand coffee and served in a beautiful garden at the back. A stylish establishment but not one where it's style over substance. Highly recommended.
A Primark novelty slogan tee shirt goes to the ghastly seafood / fish and chip place on the edge of the harbour, (pictured above). To be avoided. That is unless you fancy a deep fried, ten year old shin pad, masquerading as a piece of cod and a load of Lego bricks purporting to be chips. In truth, the mushy peas were fine, as was the friendly girl who did most of the work but the dozy boy who took the order seemed as if walking and talking at the same time was a multi task too far. I won't be back. Ever.