The grinding wheels of progress going round in circles

There I was minding my own business pottering about attempting to draw 5000 legionaries (that’s the Roman ones that marched about in legions) in the margins of my history book. The one I am allowed to write in not the one from the library called ‘The Roman Legions and their place in the Development of the Ice Cream Van’, when I heard a noise. A sort of grinding spinning noise, the sort of noise that a twenty seven foot high mechanical clock might make prior to it going into the full Westminster chime at midday. So I looked up and low and behold what was staring me in the face but the grinding wheels of progress. Well I say progress, but I mean a twenty seven foot high full Westminster chiming clock made by Mr Progress one of the metalwork teachers, which he plans to put in pride of place on the school roof. Well he did until he was told it breaches planning consent.  Not normally a problem but because we are now an academy the headmaster is trying to do things by the book. That is not the book ‘The Roman Legions and their place in the Development of the Ice Cream Van’ because it has very little in it about large clocks. Although the ice cream vans in those days did have grinding wheels much like the clock, and the planning process.

Now being faced, sort of face to face by the grinding wheels of progress (Mr Progress’s name for his clock makes you realize that life ticks by dead quick, OK not dead quick because the clock is losing at least 10 minutes a day. But I realize I need to focus my diary on matters of great importance as the old History teacher said You can either sit and watch the wheels of life turn and go nowhere yourself or be one of the wheels, sadly in an attempt to prove the point the teacher was crushed by a large grinding machine full of cogs and wheels. Proving to all it is much better not to be one of the wheels. It is all this trying to be one of the wheels that has resulted in so many people just going round in circles. The only real advantage I have found so far for going round in circles is that it allows me to write absolutely loads about absolutely very little on days when very little has happened.

We are hoping our strange electrical fault is fixed and the Ghost writer says after a hard day in the office he feels like he has been trampled by a legion of Roman soldiers, then run over by a large object with grinding wheels that strangely sounded just like a large Westminster chiming clock.

And Heavy Harry the Cat  arrears to be not well, apparently my use of the defibrillator did not help although he did leap up and looked very perky for 10 seconds. 

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