As often pertains, it’s a bit of a mixed bag tonight. But you can rest assured that a great deal of human life is there.

We’ve had very strong winds here today, and this isn’t me going all Royal pronoun in reference to a high-fibre, high-beer diet. The winds blew much of the covering sheets I’d applied to the new veg patch into the next field. I spent an hour battling against the inevitable, which was a bit like trying to wrestle ether to the ground. I gave up after a while, vowing to try and reform the whole once the winds have died down. As I’m beginning to sound like David Cameron’s ‘relationship’ with the EU, perhaps we should move swiftly on.

I caught the term ‘Heaton Park’ trending this afternoon. I was brought up right next to Heaton Park for most of my childhood….a pre-yoof period that gave me the amazing advantage of wide open spaces directly alongside Manchester’s Big City temptations. These days the Park is a rock venue, and next year it will be The Courteeners venue for a concert. I had not the remotest idea whoTF the Courteeners were, but I’ve been listening to some of their tracks this afternoon. I’d rate their stuff the classic mix of Punk and Indie, but not what you’d call original new music.

When I used to hang around in Heaton Park in the early 1960s, trannies were portable radios, not people of indecisive sexuality. We chaps used to smoke Consulate in a worldly manner, adorned with Mod shorty raincoats in search of birds. Birds back then were girls walking about in Mod shorty raincoats in search of blokes smoking Sobranie Filter fags. It was a far more innocent age.

During those years when decency was still a genuine reality, you could buy light bulbs that were easy to remove from the packaging…and simplicity itself to fit. Yesterday, I bought two ceiling spots, and on getting them home discovered I needed a small garden axe to pierce the anti-theft bubble in which they were encased. As the plastic was pierced, one bulb shot out and smashed onto the floor below. The attempt to fit the remaining bulb into the ceiling took ten minutes of crucifixion, after which the bulb lit up for two seconds and then smashed onto the floor below in sympathy with the first bulb.

But there are huge savings to be had once one walks away from brand bullshit and globalist overheads. This afternoon, one Polish electrician not only got my motor home’s offside mirror working perfectly again, he also cured all the internal electrical damage that had resulted from it being smashed by a ridiculously narrow autoroute péage. It took him two hours, which came to €30. Mercedes wanted €3000 to do the same job.

Ed Miliband thinks that represents capitalist exploitation….but he supports the capitalist model under which the ordinary bloke can be ripped off to that extent. He is wrong on both counts: and that shows, yet again, why Britain has no real, focused Opposition to the nutters.

Earlier at The Slog: What a fine thing is globalist Black Friday