The Danish news is that fewer than seven electric cars were purchased in dull, green Denmark in the first month of 2017. Since the tax mad politicooze demanded 150% tax on imported electric cars the market has not just died. The corpse has begun to stink! Never mind, eh? It's not as if any of the other empty, heavily diluted, environmental promises will ever be fulfilled. Fiddle their expense accounts today and sod tomorrow.
Interestingly [?] record numbers of asylum seekers, supposedly in mortal fear for their lives and that of their families, have voluntarily gone home. I suppose they simply became bored with wandering the department stores in traditional costume at Danish taxpayer's expense. Tempting as the free plane ticket might be, Gravely Blighted is simply too awful for me to be allowed to leave voluntarily. My unshakeable faith in tricycling would place me in immediate and deadly danger on British roads. So my exile continues unabated in far poorer living conditions than that bloke Assange presently enjoys. I bet he doesn't have to struggle with neighbour's smoke and loose chickens! I don't even have a treadmill. Except of my own making.
I'd better go for my morning walk before I dig an even deeper hole for myself. My computer niche, dormer window is covered in short streaks of wind-blown, wintry inclemency. So wish me luck. I had better remember my Alpine gaiters, LED torch [with built in SOS blink option] and emergency whistle. Those roadside verges can be quite quite treacherous in these wintry conditions. I could be simply avoiding the spray from a passing juggernaut and become trapped in the overhanging masses of dog roses. They throw long, vicious tentacles, like Triffids, to catch innocent, Blighted tricyclists and even rarer, walkers. It's lucky I have my yellow workshop glasses or I might never return!
Having reached the village and my habitual exit to the forest it began to snow and then turned to rain. The cold wind didn't help and my Thinsulate <cough> "Skiing Glove" <cough> clad hands were already aching. I chickened out at the thought of trudging through thin, wet snow for another half hour for so little reward. The rain didn't last long and what remained was just a few water droplets on my safety glasses and a vivid imagination.