Two Welshmen at Burston

What a pest of a day. Mr C found a CV joint on one of the car wheels was split (no I don’t know either) and the garage can’t see it for 10 days. It wouldn’t be good to drive it.

We were away on holiday when Mr C got a lengthy health form to complete for the DVLA which had a deadline. An example of the comprehensive information they need - he had to find the name of the surgeon who put in his pacemaker (8 years ago) and the name of the unit where it was done - which no longer exists. He walked off down to the Co-op where there is a Post Office desk to send it off - to find the desk not in operation “for technical reasons”. Having no car he has got a bus to Morpeth, 15 miles away to the nearest place he can get it sent by registered post. The buses are every hour so that’ll take all afternoon. That’ll be me tomorrow to get my hair cut.

Carol called for coffee. She’s very stressed because Phil’s back is too painful to allow him even to put on his shoes. She told me all about her visit to the Fringe - all billed as comedy though about half weren’t.

I went down a rabbit hole when Suffolk Carole asked if I still had the photo of her and Glenda Jackson at a Labour Conference. I still can’t find it but did find one of her dad and Neil Kinnock at the Burston Rally which we used to support every September when we lived in Suffolk. It was the longest strike in British history from 1914 till 1939. The children refused to go to the school after the church board dismissed the 2 teachers Annie and Tom Higden. The teachers were pressuring for adequate sanitation and for the farmers not to insist on taking the children out of school to work on the farms. (The parents lived in tied cottages so had no choice). They continued to teach the children on the village green, then a workshop until eventually an alternative school was built with the help of contributions from trades unions and individuals. There’s a lot to the history so Google if you are interested. It was make into a dram starring Eileen Atkins and Bernard Hill in 1985. Trades Unionists and politicians and those with sympathies to the left attend. We used to be allocated random Londoners to stay. It was a lovely occasion. Here’s Carole’s dad and Neil, (and his hot dog!) two Welshmen together. Early 1990s I think