Stormy times.

I went running before the rain set in this morning. However, a friend of mine commented, quite justifiably in my opinion, that my picture of Autumn colours would look much better in the sunshine. 

It's still not raining properly but more is predicted. The builder who lives next door has promised to put a sort of cap on our chimney-pot to prevent crows from falling down the chimney. Two things are preventing him from getting on: the need for a a new ladder, due to be delivered any day now, and the windy weather. According to yesterday's TV weatherman, today's stormy weather is down to Hurricane Ophelia, following on the heels of Hurricane Nate. Ophelia is the tenth storm/hurricane in a fairly short time. I am growing rather bored with them.

But at least we are not homeless. The National Audit Office reckoned that 4,100 people were sleeping rough in the UK in Autumn 2016. Crisis, the homelessness charity put the figure at 9,000. That's like the population of a good-sized village or very small town. And this doesn't include the homeless who sleep on sofas in the homes of friends and family. Herriott-Watt University in Scotland estimate that if government policy remains as it is now, that figure could go up to 575,000 by 2041. And already it's hard to walk around the centre of Manchester without seeing evidence of the rough sleepers. 

Much of this homelessness is blamed on people being evicted from rented accommodation for rent arrears. This is added to by private landlords' unwillingness to accept tenants in receipt of Universal Credit. Considering the shambles that Universal Credit seems to be in, I am not surprised by that reluctance. Another solution to the housing problem is called for.

Yesterday there was a ring at our doorbell. Phil opened the door and there he found a young man trying to sell stuff door-to-door. I listened in to the conversation, the list of stuff he offered - tea towels, chamois leathers, dusters, oven gloves - a load of stuff all apparently priced at £14.99, although he was prepared to haggle over price a little. In the end Phil bought a pair of scissors, which we don't really need, labelled as the only scissors you will ever need!

We wondered if such young men going round selling stuff are similar to the men, usually African immigrants, who go round the bars in Spain selling stuff no-one wants, and "controlled" by an overseer who takes the majority of the profits. How did we come to this?

Back when I was a child, we used to have regular visits from the "Bettaware man", an itinerant salesman with a battered brown suitcase full of samples of his wares - polishes, cleaning products, dusters and so on. Was this the same sort of thing? I always had the impression that the Bettaware man was properly employed. After all, he came back again and again. And, checking on the Internet I discovered that you can still get Bettaware products. The difference is that nowadays you order online: another type of employment gone!

But at least - here I go with another "but at least" ... - we don't have a President causing further problems by removing the possibility of poorer people getting healthcare subsidies.

 Well, not yet anyway!