I've Finally Been To See My Mothers.

For the first time since Trump & Hegseth bombed Iran. To stop Iran from having Nuclear weapons.

This meant I also got to meet the new puppy!

It turns out that agreeing to train a service dog is very, very different from getting a new pet. Detailing all the ways in which this very much isn't my Mothers' puppy is something I would have liked to do this afternoon. Believe it or not there are Image Rights and a Social Media policy to consider.

However the Boss Cat of the house woke me up at dawn today. To remind me that I wanted to go Horse riding. On a Horse that really needs the exercise.

When I finished I got on a train to go home. Never in the history of rail travel has a train gone from Salisbury to Waterloo without stopping at Clapham Junction. Just in case I was suddenly, somehow unable to read departure boards on a route I'm very used to an overly helpful/bored staff member stopped me to direct me to the correct train.

The train was full but not overly full. The air conditioning was working, I had at seat and one of my identities was logged into the Wi-Fi to get some work done.

Then the train decided it wasn't going to stop at Clapham Junction after all, rushing straight to its Waterloo. Forcing me to get off at Basingstoke and get the next train.

As the five minute wait turned into a 20 minute wait I learned that, apparently, there was a signal issue just outside Salisbury. Eventually I and many, many others packed ourselves onto an overly full train without air conditioning. I apologise to Luke Combs if something about the experience put some the young men in his audience off their game. Even if some of young women were very excited, in such heat they were almost ready to faint(!)

This delay meant I arrived at Clapham Junction just in time for someone, possibly a protester, to climb the signal gantry on the platform I was hoping to use. Causing one of London's busiest interchanges to go into Lockdown. For three hours, the last time I checked.

This forced me to walk across Clapham to get a bus to Brixton. Then a bus home. Which is far too long to spend on a city bus. Even when your journey didn't begin with you discovering that you'd forgotten to charge your Mp3 Player.

With a two hour journey turning into a five hour journey I arrived home already an hour behind on my most basic of chores.

So I'm unable to give a full update tonight. I probably won't be able to do it tomorrow as I fully expect Saturday to deliver on its promise of sleep.

Anyone who thinks that Olympic and other Equestrian events aren't proper sports because the Human doesn't do any of the work has, clearly, never ridden a Horse.