Dig down a foot in our garden and you hit impacted sand- pure enough to build castles with. This means that not so long ago- just a hop, skip and a jump in geologic time- our part of South-Eastern England was under water. Wikipedia tells me that if one were lucky one might find plesiosaur bones in the mix- and that the proper name for the formation is The Hastings Beds.
She is shy, awkward, not good with people- but trying awfully hard to pretend otherwise. She wriggles and grimaces as if her flesh were a bad fit for her bones.
She has a husband who looks like Arthur Askey.
Questioned about who does what around the house she says, "There are girl jobs and boy jobs"- which suggests emotional immaturity and an old-fashioned approach to gender.
Talking about values she speaks of the need to see a job through. And, yes, that confirms what I feel about her- that's she's a political carthorse- unimaginative, dogged, inflexible- not someone who has ever really thought for herself or questioned authority. If there's a burning deck and she's been told to stand on it she'll continue to do so until ordered otherwise- which is an odd trait in a leader.
Banksy is "not her thing". Well, what a surprise!
