Browned off

So, the dying walrus of British politics finally chucked in the towel today.  There's been a few articles recently describing Gordon Brown as a tragic hero, a fascinatingly tortured character and the like.  I think that's over-egging the haggis a little - being both very clever and socially weird is unfortunate but hardly unusual.  There's plenty of grumpy men in jobs they're not quite up to being mean to the staff.  Still, he's been part of the political furniture for so long (a large wardrobe perhaps?), doing that goldfish gulp and talking about prudence, that it's going to be strange without him.

I voted for the Pidgeon but she didn't have quite enough to carrier over the finishing line.  Hopefully she'll use some of her free time to get that crick in her neck looked at.  In a moment of election fever I also bought the cupcakes below from the lovely cake stall girl at the Oval Farmer's Market.  She's great.  Little smudge of flour on her nose, red cheeks from hours spent at a hot stove.  Sometimes I think I should run away with her to her gingerbread house and just eat hundreds and hundreds of cakes.  I mention this fantasy to my girlfriend most Saturdays but she doesn't seem overly concerned.  She thinks a relationship based on my appreciation of someone's buns is unlikely to flourish.

Anyway, I picked Brown (raspberry) for the missus and Clegg (passion fruit) for me.  I rejected Cameron on both ideological and taste (blueberry) grounds.