Last night I started the horrible task of reading the biography of Margaret Thatcher by John Campbell. It's a prodigious two book gargantuan funeral for the working class of the UK, it's a requiem for much that was good, and I have to read it despite the fact it's depressing as all hell. The reason I am reading it, is because I am trying to make sense of my life, and unfortunately that horrible woman had a greater affect on me than even my worst lover and/or enemy. The Uk was not great Britain, or even averagely good Britain before her, but after her, and her criminal legacy it was almost unrecognisable. She paved the way for her love child masquerading as a Labour Hercules, Blair the demon of Bosh. The present re incarnation of "humans without conscious" Mrs May is almost made in her image.
6 routes for me today, 3 new, and all good. The 3 new, all have a short section on grit, or rough sandstone, so unexpected on my island, but so sweet. My favourite is one called Mr Magoo, you feel really dumb at the top as you struggle with an overhanging crack, which if you have the courage to climb it correctly, is easy! It is very exposed, and a must do.
The sea was fairly calm, but the cave which we visited, was hard to access, and even harder to escape from. Indeed I was a bit careless with my traverse to explore the right hand side, and a big wave got me, I anchored my self by two prickly jug handles, and was in the dishwasher for a while!