Footling, Farage and the falling pound

My footle tolerance is improving. I’m less and less bothered about having a low-key day after travelling and no longer experience this as a serious threat to my identity.

The day has not been without its charms, however. At Tesco, I discover (and by a supreme effort of will do not buy) hot cross buns (like Easter…) and raspberry flavoured ginger beer (the old place is not what it used to be…). I also make use of the Brexit-crushed pound to buy an electric toothbrush to be stationed in the UK (and wonder whether Farage has done anything else useful in his life apart from helping improve my oral hygiene).

Looking forward to tomorrow’s visit to Durham, a cathedral and university city a couple of train hours away to the north.

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