Whatever that means
Still a little hungover from Thursday’s all-nighter and not really catching up yesterday. Today has been more unwinding and disentangling my brain from just thinking about the referendum all the time. Christ knows what it’s like for activists who’ve put their lives on the back-burner to campaign. The closest I can think of is the end of the Miners Strike, when I young.
Anyway, Ewan’s first day at the schools’ orchestra which he really enjoyed, which I’m really pleased about since he needed to be cajoled, almost press-ganged into joining. I sat for two hours reading post-match analysis then home and pottered, moving some beer on, tidying a little in the garage and playing with data. Still playing with referendum data. It irks. I knew this was going to happen except of course, I didn’t but the data mangling has been pointing to something in the low 40s for about nine months but only if you don’t believe what surveys say. Which is tricky if your business is to produce surveys.
* this photo is not a metaphor for anything. It was 6pm, light was fading but even from the sofa the sky looked good and the newly accessible tandem could be used to get me and Ellen to the harbour.