The Walk Home

I didn’t go in. I wasn’t even tempted. I wasn’t. It’s Monday after all. 
Earlier I’d spent an age cleaning windows. That was before I went and picked up a goodly supply of beer. For the cupboard I should add. For an unspecified period of time - though the weekends come around surprisingly quickly. Oh and I did other things too - like glumly watch the Rangers v Hearts highlights. Ninetieth minute - did VAR spot a shirt being pulled? Oh and nine minutes added time. That's quite enough watching that. 
So off I went with my magazines to sit and have a coffee or two. The Israel v Hamas thing is heating up. Much calling for a ceasefire, which Starmer has resisted. Given our collective inability to actually sort this mess which has dragged on for decades, letting off steam at Sir Keir seems to fulfil a need in certain sections of our populace. Does anyone know what the leader of the opposition in Italy or Denmark thinks about it? More important is what the leader of the opposition in China, or Russia or even Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Iran or Lebanon thinks. Oh, there isn’t one. 
And for the record, I may call for a ceasefire. I may call for the hostages to be released. For peace and love to win the day. For the implementation of the Oslo accords. For everyone to play nice. Or maybe I'll call for a beer.