Cross on the Paper

I exercised my democratic right this morning to take part in deciding who should run the country. For the first time I can ever remember, at 0730 this morning, they were queueing outside the door. I wonder if that is a new found enthusiasm encouraged by the leadership debates or that people have been so bombarded by publicity about politics and politicians in the last couple of years, that people really want their say about how they've been treated and how they really want their future to look perhaps.

Is it the meteoric rise of anonymous Clegg, the puffy-eyed under-pressure Brown or the sterile sound-bite Cameron who has attracted you or is it pure politics that informed your decision to place your cross on the ballot paper where you did? Perhaps because of what they've been sayingand doing they've persuaded you NOT to vote.

At least we have the freedom to choose.

Today's story has a theme of 'taking responsibility', something politicians don't (sadly) readily do.

Jack decided to go skiing with his friend, Bob. So they loaded up Jack's camper van and headed north to Scotland. After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. So they pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night. 'I realize its terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I'm recently widowed,' she explained. 'I'm afraid the neighbours will talk if I let you stay in my house.'

'Don't worry,' Jack said. 'We'll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we'll be gone at first light.' The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night.

Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way. They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing. But about nine months later, Jack got an unexpected letter from an solicitor. It took him a few minutes to work it out, but he finally determined that it was from the solicitor of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend.

He dropped in on his friend Bob and asked, 'Bob, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up north about 9 months ago?'

'Yes, I do.' Said Bob.

'Did you, err, happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?'

'Well, um, yes!' Bob said, a little embarrassed about being found out, 'I have to admit that I did.'

'And did you happen to give her my name instead of telling her your name?'

Bob's face turned red as a tomato and he said, 'Yeah, look, I'm sorry mate. I'm afraid I did. Why do you ask?'

'She just died and left me everything.'

(Did you think it would have a different ending?)

Chat soon

Ta-ra.