Fishermen and bombs

I've had a remarkably shit week.

The weekend was fantastic as we had some guests over from the UK, so lots of wine, food and looking round churches was abound. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Firat of all, have any of you ever heard of Operation Stack? Militaristic as it may sound, it is purely civilian in origin. The premise is that any time there may be a problem at Dover or Calais ports, the police close the M20 motorway and line up, or 'stack' all the lorries on it waiting for the problem to stop. This sucks. It fucks up my day every time.

Last week, I had the joy of hearing the words Operation Stack from my London base not just once, but twice. Thursday and Friday.

First, it was the fishermen. The French ones, of course. They went not just on strike, but they organised a floating roadblock in the English Channel (not English as an operative word there, I think this could even be a cassus belli. They blocked the port for 24 hours, causing enormous delays and making yours truly work a17 hour day.

Then, if this wasn't enough, on Friday once the strikes had finished and everything was beginning to get back to normal, some twat pulled off the stunt of the year. Whilst travelling on the Eurotunnel with his car, he decided to transport an old, and very real, World War 2 bomb in his trunk. A souvenir he said. You fucking idiot, say I. Closures, demo teams and controlled explosions later and Ribby works a 19 hour day. Needless to say I was a little tired on Saturday.