Big Brother ain’t half watching you

Bizarre occurrence this morning. Having woken up at a normalish time for once, I decided to go out for a brisk walk in the Trough of Bowland, as part of my no-doubt-doomed attempt to lose a bit of weight. I drove a fairly complicated route to the village of Quernmore, about six miles away, and stopped the car outside the village post office. As I got out in order to tramp up the hill, a man who had stopped behind me got out of his car and addressed me. Though not aware of having given any cause for road rage, I braced myself for it. But the man addressed me with perfect courtesy, saying “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Mera” – how the hell could anyone in Quernmore, where I’d never been before, know my name? “but I have to give you this.” Of course, it was a set of legal papers served on me at the behest of the Bitch. You have to hand it to these process servers, they are bloody assiduous. He had clearly arrived at my home just in time to see me driving off, and followed me. It would have been a bit of a laugh if I had driven 160 miles without stopping to my mother’s, as I had done a couple of days before. Anyway, he got his man. Ironically, the papers were just copies of papers I’d already received through the post, so it hadn’t actually been necessary to follow me out into the Trough of Bowland to serve them. But heigh-ho, I’m not paying for it. I wonder how much all this overkill is costing her, and she still hasn’t been told that one of the documents was illegally obtained and could lay her open to criminal prosecution.