I have laryngitis. The doctor has told me to rest my voice. Not talk.
People pay to go on silent retreats. I’m getting this for nothing and it’s not my idea of a good time.
The family think it’s hilarious and say that nagging is down 100% in the neighbourhood. Lights being left on, food plates being left in bedrooms and towels on the bathroom floor are all up 100%.
It is pretty hilarious that I’ve been told to rest my voice, because I spent all of yesterday morning talking to people about the campaign I’m involved with on an information stand in a local shopping centre.
It was exhausting (that’s why there was no post yesterday), but worth it, because we had a really great reaction. People really stopped to look at and read the posters we’d put together.
I was very touched by the grown man – quite a rough, hard nut – who got tears in his eyes when he looked at the photographs of what has happened to the extraordinary landscape he played in as a child.
He’s been away from Hastings for years and his elderly mum brought him over to look.
‘How has that been allowed?’ he asked me.
That’s the question we have never been able to get an answer to.
An official Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty pretty much wrecked by a rogue caravan park owner, the local council who were supposed to protect it putting all their efforts into Bart Simpson style denials, rather than sorting it out.
It’s exhausting work, it has tested my belief in the political system, but I will never give up.
In other news, the lovely Natalie Joos who I blogged about recently and wrote today’s column about, sent me a message on Twitter. How cool is that?
More will be revealed in the Rules column next week, so I’ll keep schtum on the details, but it was such a nice surprise.