1 February 2023
(Wednesday) - A Poggered Cordyline
Last night I am reliably informed that “er
indoors TM” made a point of making sure that Treacle got onto the
bed as quietly as a quiet thing, and of ensuring she didn’t stomp all round the bed.
Consequently I stayed asleep until after five o’clock this morning when the
backache finally woke me. I then dozed on and off until a cold wet
Bailey-sized nose shoved itself into my armpit at seven o’clock. I got up, and being the first of the month I had
a shave with a new razor blade, then made toast and had a look at the
Internet. There was quite the squabble kicking off locally. Someone locally
had run over a dog and was trying to get the dog’s owners to pay for the
damage done to the car. Opinion was divided into two schools of thought;
there were those who felt sorry for the dog and its owners, and there were
those who I don’t think I like very much. I then sent out birthday wishes to those having a
birthday today, leaded up the dogs and we went for a walk. We didn’t go far today, really. Yesterday I’d
come home to find one of those “we tried to deliver” slips left on the
doormat by the postman. In the past I’ve found that they aren’t so much “we
tried to deliver” as “we couldn’t be arsed to knock on the door”
but to be fair we had been out when postie called yesterday. So today we
walked up to the collection office to get the parcel. The walk there was
relatively uneventful; mind you a lot of people did cross the road or back up
against the walls in terror as we passed. Are the dogs *that* scary?
They aren’t the biggest or scariest, are they? Or is it me? We got to the collection office and got the
parcel and headed home. As we came home the puppies had woofing fits at two
other dogs. I blame the leads. When all the dogs are all off of the leads
they greet other and have a little game. When all the dogs are all on the
leads it is one big shouting match. We came home past Brian’s house… I say “Brian’s
house”, “where Brian used to live” is a more accurate description.
But bearing in mind he did a runner last June I was rather amazed to see the
disabled parking signs still up. Once home I harvested a crop of dog dung from the garden. As I pootled
I saw that my cordyline was in a rather sorry state. I had a look on-line and
found as many opinions as there were people to give them. I asked on Facebook
and found that maybe I should have covered the thing up in the autumn. Mind
you “My Boy TM” says his has gone the same way. And he is
the family font of knowledge on all things horticultural now Dad’s gone.I shall leave it until the weather chirps up in the
spring and hope for the best. If all else fails I will give it a serious
pruning; that has worked wonder with other ailing plants. I spent a few minutes doing some of my current
Coursera course, emptied the dishwasher, then watched some telly before
settling the dogs and setting off in the general direction of work. I stopped off at the co-op to get a sandwich.
Every time there I end up wishing I hadn't. The parking is an absolute
nightmare, and the place is full of normal people swarming. That isn't normal
people "shopping", or "wandering about" or
"blindly blundering". People in that shop really do swarm. I tried the radio; there wasn't much on which was
worth listening so I sang along to "Ivor Biggun"
as I drove west-wards, making far better time that I did yesterday. I'm not
sure about the first part of my journey, but the bit from the Lamberhurst roundabout which took me twenty-five minutes
yesterday only took nine minutes today. That's the advantage of going to work
later. Having done that which I couldn't avoid I made
better time coming home as well, but with the best will in the world, after a
late shift at Pembury I'm not going to get home before ten o'clock at the
earliest. |
|
2 February 2023
(Thursday) - A Friend Request
Treacle
was again brought to bed last night under strict supervision and again I
wasn’t woken ridiculously early. I was eventually woken about six o’clock by
an odd sound which was either Treacle growling or “er indoors TM”
snoring. I poked both to be sure and went back to sleep. I
had my usual mooch round the Internet as I scoffed toast, and was rather
surprised to see a woman with whom I used to work had announced on Facebook
that she was retiring. She claimed to be retiring after thirty-one years of
work having started at age eighteen. Leaving aside the fact that I always
suspected she was the same age as me (if not older!), how can anyone
in an NHS job afford to retire aged less than fifty? Presumably she made
sound investments over the years? Something I might have done? I
had two friend requests on Facebook this morning. Both from young ladies, but
one had substantially more clothes on that the other. The clothed one made me
wonder why she was sending a friend request. Two of the people on her friends
list had one mutual friend with me; someone with whom I used to work twelve
years ago; a rather tenuous connection? The more “natural” one (pictured
above; claiming to be called “Joe”) should have known better. I
took the dogs round the block for a quick walk. We didn’t go far. In a few
months we’ll be going back to Orlestone before the
late shifts, but right now the place is just a swamp. As
we walked I continued something I started yesterday. Every time we cross the
road Treacle knows to sit before we step off the kerb. I had hoped the
puppies would have started to copy her, but they hadn’t, so yesterday I was
making them sit before we crossed any road. There is still a long way to go,
but Morgan is beginning to get the hang of it. With
walk walked we came home and did “sit” to have our leads taken off,
then I set the washing machine going as I watched more “Star Trek:
Discovery”, then wrote up a
little CPD. With
the dogs settled I set off on a little mission before work. The parcel that I
collected from the post office's collection depot yesterday contained the
latest bits I need for my Lego pirate ship project, but I also needed some
black yard/thread/string stuff for the rigging over the sails. I knew of a
haberdashery shop in Willesborough (just up the
road from where the snake shop used to be), so I went there only to find
it had closed down years ago. Ho hum... As
I was in the area I went to the Willesborough
co-op. Am I being over-sensitive in thinking that when serving a customer (i.e.
taking my money) the old bat behind the till shouldn't carry on squawking
at her cronies as though I wasn't there? Needless to say I won't be going
back there in a hurry. I
drove round to Hobbycraft hoping they might have some black
yard/thread/string stuff. The first assistant I asked wasn't already
squawking with cronies, but she was equally disinterested. She told me they
might have some up the back of the shop, and (rather rudely) carried
on with what she was doing. With
time running out I went up toward the back of the shop and found another
assistant who was incredibly helpful. After ten minutes we got some stuff
that should do the trick. And
then I headed off to Pembury singing along to "Ivor Biggun". Even though it wasn't quite mid-day, as
is so often the way on a late shift, the best bit of the day was done by mid day. All
the rest of today was rather dull… |
|
3 February 2023
(Friday) - Rostered Day Off
As
I peered into Facebook this morning I saw I had yet another friend request
from another rather dubious young lady. I’ve now created an
album on Facebook into which I am going to put pictures of these people,
and a description of their antics. I won’t put up any links they send me. One
thing I have established is that it is quite acceptable for them to advertise
their filth, but my posting their link when flagging it to the Facebook Feds
contravenes Facebook’s so-called “community standards”. I
walked the dogs round the block, then settled in front of the telly and
watched “Star Trek: Discovery”. As we watched so there was a knock at
the door. The bits for my CPAP machine had arrived. But they had taken longer
to arrive from Canterbury than Lego had taken to get from Chicago earlier in
the week. With
the puppies settled I took Treacle to the vet for her annual check-up and
vaccinations. She wasn’t at all keen on it. The
vet took an age going at her chest with his stethoscope, and eventually
concluded that he wasn’t sure that she didn’t have a chest murmur, but said
it was nothing to worry about. He also said she needs proper teeth brushing
and should see the nutritionist for “weight control dog food”, but
other than that she was in good shape for a dog of her age. I
dropped Treacle back at home then drove down to Folkestone where I spent five
minutes Munzing. What with today being the start of
the Clan War I really wanted to get a Qrate. I got
two. And then I supervised “Darcie Waa Waa TM”
whilst “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” had a driving lesson. Mind
you when I say “supervised” I really mean “got slept on”. She
was asleep the entire time. There
was talk of McDonalds after “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM”
got home from school, but I gave that a miss, headed home, collected the pups
and took them up to Kings Wood where we walked our usual circuit. We had a
good walk; Bailey disappeared at one point, but I gave three quick blasts on
the whistle and she came running. There
was an odd incident just after the half-way point. Morgan started barking; there
was a chap and his dog about fifty yards behind us. With a long straight path
we would have seen them coming from quite a way away. They weren’t walking
very fast, and there were no other footpaths from which they might have
appeared. So how did they creep up on us so fast? After a couple of minutes I
turned round expecting to see them about to overtake us, and they weren’t
there any more. There were no footpaths off of the
track we were on. Had they decided to stomp through the woods we would have
heard them. Where had they gone? What
was that all about? Had we seen a pair of ghosts? Equally
odd was something we saw when we were just about three-quarters of the way
round. About half a mile from the two car parks was a rather large pile of
rubbish which had been fly-tipped. Bearing in mind the vehicular access to
the place is only open to those with keys, someone had presumably carried all
the rubbish about a mile into the wood. Why
would anyone do that ? We
came home and settled in front of the telly. With the puppies somewhat
subdued I took a photo to send to the nice lady from whom we got them. I send
her little “pupdates” from time to time. As
the dogs settled and snored I made myself comfortable watching drivel on UK
Gold… “er indoors TM” woke us up when she came home. She
then boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching
more “Junior Bake Off”; a good show, but (just occasionally)
you can see it gets a little too much for the contestants. They are only
little kids… Today
was a day off – I’m worn out. |
|
4 February 2023
(Saturday) - Early Shift
Last
night Treacle got to bed before “er indoors TM” could take
a firm line, and she made a point of stomping all over the show and trying to
shove me out of the warm spot. When I say "she made a point of
stomping all over the show" that was Treacle. “er indoors TM”
just fought with her and told her off and generally made a racket. Finding
myself wide awake at one o'clock I then lay awake for much of the night. The
new CPAP attachment giving me a sore nose didn't help much either. I
eventually got up just after five o'clock and took the puppies outside. Again
there were several lights on in houses round and about. So many people are up
and about far too early. As
the puppies mobbed “er indoors TM” I scoffed toast whist
watching telly, then had a quick look at the Internet. It was still there. On
one of the groups I follow there was a religious argument kicking off in
which some half-wit was advocating the power of prayer, and claiming that no
matter what the outcome, it was all proof of the existence of his god.
Whether of not your prayers get answered depends on
god's holy plan for the universe... obviously (!) Others were arguing
with the half-wit, and during the "debate" (for want of a
better word) this half-wit constantly changed his stance on no end of matters
and effectively claimed that black was white and shit was sugar. They
let these people vote and do jury service, you know... Leaving
“er indoors TM” and the dogs asleep I set off to work. As I
drove there was an interview with someone who used to be in the band Chumbawumba
who now runs some sort of extreme choir. From what I could work out this
bunch go out and about singing whilst fell-walking and whilst swimming in
rivers and ponds. The chap made the claim that when they were famous, Chumbwumba were paid to appear on all sorts of TV shows
internationally, and they never played live. They always mimed to a
recording, and so the band rarely actually turned up. They would send
friends and family members on the all-expenses-paid outings. Friends and
family would stay in hotels and appear on foreign TV shows and get paid, and
(so this chap claimed) no one was ever any the wiser. I
wouldn't mind some of that... There
was also in interview with an ex-potato farmer who has been getting no end of
abuse from all sorts of people because he has stopped growing potatoes and
now grows bird seed. Why does he do this? He used to grow potatoes at a loss,
now he grows bird seed at a profit. As he said, he isn't running a charity...
and people pay more for bird seed than they do for their own food. Funny
old world. I
got to work where I sulked. Usually rather than cracking on with blood tests
on a Saturday morning I go to dog club. But being unable to swap shifts, that
wasn't happening today. I also sulked because in years gone by the first
weekend in February was one of the highlights of the year: Dover Beer
Festival. But the Maison Dieu in Dover (the venue) is being renovated
and so the event is on hold for a couple of years. I
wonder if it will start up again? It was always fun; if a tad messy at times. I
came home to an empty house. “er indoors TM” and the dogs
were out with Cheryl and Ro-Ro so I ran a bucket of water and sloshed the
grime off of the car’s windows. It has to be said there was a lot of grime to
slosh. As
I then headed in I saw movement next door. On one side of our house is “not-so-nice-next-door”
with whom relations are slowly improving. On the other side is “new-next-door”;
a house occupied by a succession of people who never seem to last very long.
The latest “new-next-door” is a young lady about the same age as the
fruits of my loin. She seems nice enough, but bearing in mind that she is the
sixteenth person to take up residence in that house in the last thirty-two
years, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before she’s off. “er
indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner, then we set off for
an evening out. Jimbo’s band were playing at the
New Chimneys, and the clans gathered. I must admit I went along thinking that
it might be something to round of an otherwise dull day, and we had a really
good time. Jose and Maria gave us a lift and we arrived to find Steve and Sarah
sitting in what I can only describe as the “band’s groupies area”; a
little part of the pub just behind the band with the speakers pointing away
from us. We were soon joined by so many old friends. Denver and his new lady
friend. Alan. Sue and Chris. I’ve
spent a lifetime making such good friends that I so rarely see these days. It
was so good to catch up with people, but such a shame that with the loud band
we couldn’t hear each other speak. I might suggest they do an acoustic set;
does any pub band *really* need amplifiers? Nevertheless
we had a very good evening listening to Neon Street playing music from the
eighties (when music was good!). Mind you I can’t help but think that
the perception of the eighties from forty years away is probably somewhat better
than the actual eighties were… |
|
5 February 2023
(Sunday) - Family Day
I
woke feeling like death warmed up this morning. Back in the day I used to
shift ale by the gallon. Three pints last night gave me such a headache this
morning. The
dogs were funny this morning. Once the puppies had tiddled they both ran up
the stairs to the big bed, then both whimpered and came back to me. Treacle
was standing at the bottom of the bed glaring at them daring them to see what
would happen if they came close. I told her to shut her rattle and helped the
babies up. Whilst the dogs get on all right, Treacle does bully the smaller
ones from time to time. I
made toast and had a look at the Internet. Having had two rather dubious
friend requests yesterday I had another today. Did I mention I’ve started an
album of pictures of the sort of “ladies” who want to be my
friend. I wish they didn’t. Who on Earth would want to be seen on the friends
list on someone like that? And
I saw that Netflix are making a series of “The
Three Body Problem”; an excellent book… I wonder how they will
transfer that story to the screen? Here’s hoping they make a good job of it. I
drove round to the petrol station to fill the car up. I went to the one at
Sainsburys, and the cantankerous old bat I’ve met before was again behind the
till, but in a novel break with tradition she had a go at being civil. From
there I drove down to Folkestone to collect “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”,
“Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM”, “Darcie Waa Waa TM” and Pogo and fetch them all home.
I had planned on fetching the pressure washer back as well, but where
yesterday had been a warm day, today was freezing. I left the pressure washer
in Folkestone. We
came home and went for a walk round the park. Viccie
Park used to be a rather pretty park, but over the last couple of years the
council has embarked on a rather ambitious project of renovating much of the
park. From what I can see this scheme involves digging up much of the park,
fencing off the dug-up areas and then leaving them alone for months. Such
a shame. As
we walked so “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” bleated
constantly about needing the toilet. He bleats constantly about needing the
toilet when none are near, and when there is a toilet within a few yards he
goes for hours without needing one… With
walk walked I pootled in the garden for a bit. I had hoped that “Stormageddon
– Bringer of Destruction TM” might help me, but he soon lost
interest. He and his grandmother mucked about with craft stuff and getting
dinner ready whilst “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”, “Darcie
Waa Waa TM” and I watched “City of Ember”;
a rather good Netflix film. We
then had a rather good dinner. “Darcie Waa Waa TM”
particularly liked the sweet potatoes and chocolate cake and the cream. She
and her mother then had a little sleep on the sofa, her brother and Gran had
a go at following crochet videos on Lube-Tube (as “Stormageddon – Bringer
of Destruction TM” calls it). Have you ever watched crochet
videos on You-tube (or “Lube-Tube”)? They certainly look far easier
than they actually are. I
did the washing up. As
it was getting dark so “er indoors TM” took them all home.
One has to be up promptly for school tomorrow, and the other two looked as
though an early night wouldn’t hurt. We
then cracked open the port, cheese and crackers and watched today’s episode
of “Lego Masters: Australia”. Today was all about building huge Lego
bridges and testing them to destruction. There
is something strangely satisfying in watching someone else’s Lego models
getting destroyed… |
6 February 2023 (Monday) - An Easier Drive
Unusually
the alarm woke me this morning; that never happens! I woke feeling rather
rough which was either the port yesterday evening, or the stress of having “Stormageddon
– Bringer of Destruction TM” about the house. Much as I love
him, he can be hard work at times. I
am reliably informed that today he made a new verse for that classic song “The
Wheels on the Bus” which goes “the weapons on the bus go bang bang bang…” I got up and took the puppies outside, and in a
novel break with tradition new-next-door's boiler was making noises.
That has been silent since the ex postie with the
motorbike (that never went anywhere) moved out three months ago.
Having tiddled, the puppies went and harassed a sleeping “er indoors TM”
and I made toast for brekkie and a sandwich for lunch. I scoffed the toast
whilst watching the last episode of the current season of "Star Trek:
Discovery". It was rather good, but I now need to find something
else to keep me occupied. I
set off up the motorway to work. Much as I whinge about the motorway now
being a dual carriageway, I far prefer driving up it than along the country
lanes to Pembury. Even the antics of two lanes of slow-moving lorries forcing
all the cars into the fast lane is better than the twists and turns through
the -hursts and the -dens. As
I drove there was a lot of talk on the radio about the earthquake that hit
Turkey overnight. The earthquake was felt thousands of miles away, and
the death toll is in the thousands. Looking at the map it would seem the
epicentre of the earthquake was only a few hundred miles from where we went
on holiday a few years ago. This made me think... did you know that no one
has ever successfully forecast a major
earthquake? You'd
think that being able to do this might be a priority, wouldn't you? Much
of the rest of the news was about the strikes in the NHS which were happening
today. A good thing or a bad thing for the future of the NHS?... I can
hardly claim to be impartial, but I'll just make the observation that a lot
of hospitals these days have a section in their staff newsletters advertising
where the local food banks can be found. Does anyone think that people are
going to take up a job knowing full well that it won't pay enough to feed
them? I
had planned to go on a little wander round the streets Munzing
before work, but I thought better of the idea. Instead I just took a little
detour and did a SleepZee as you can do them from
the comfort of the car without having to get up. I got to work and parked up, and just as I realised I'd forgotten my sandwich so “er indoors TM”
sent a message telling me I'd forgotten my sandwich. I suppose that is why
God (or blind chance) put a branch of M&S just down the corridor
from my bit of work. I
bought a sandwich, got to work, set myself up at a microscope and (realising
I would be staying put for some time) phoned the probate people. I got
through in a far shorter time than I had expected; it only took half an hour
to get a reply. After a little to-ing and fro-ing it appears that the reason
for the delay on getting probate on Dad's house was that there was a trivial
question that I hadn't answered when I emailed them on 18 November. The very
helpful (!) woman said that they had realised the oversight on my
part, but didn't see why they should tell me about it. She implied that had I
not chased them up then I would have probably waited for ever for them to
contact me... as they in turn waited for ever for me to do something about
which I was utterly unaware. I
asked how long it would be before we got the probate done. She (I thought)
rather sarcastically replied that it all depended on how long I took to send
them the information they wanted. I told her they would have it by email
within ten minutes, and she seemed genuinely surprised about that. She then
made the schoolboy error of saying that once they'd got my email, it should
all be done in a few days... and on realising what she'd said immediately
tried to back-track. It
must be wonderful to work in a place with no urgency whatsoever. I
got on with work, and with it done I came home just as it was getting dark.
The view from the car park was rather pretty this evening. “er indoors TM” boiled up some pizza then went
bowling. I ironed shirts, then settled down on the sofa underneath a pile of
dogs and
watched a film on Netflix.
Jung-E was… What can I say? I think the best word to describe the
film would be “tedious”. Without giving the plot away the film is a
sort of Korean prequel to “Terminator” which loses an awful lot in
translation. I
suppose if nothing else it was something to watch whilst the washing machine
worked its magic on my smalls, though the view through the washing machine’s
port hole was probably more interesting. |
|
7 February 2023
(Tuesday) - Early Shift
Once
I'd done the usual morning nonsense and the dogs were all settled, I too
settled. I sat down in front of the telly and watched the first episode of
"Physical: 100" I
rather thought it would be like "Squid Game", but it
wasn't. It's a Korean reality TV program in which it is claimed that a
hundred people of all races, creeds and colours compete in contests of
strength, agility, and strategy until only one is left; that one winning two
hundred thousand quid. However the reality of it was that there are ninety
musclebound blokes all openly leering at ten women in leotards. Ninety-seven
of these people are Korean, two are American and one is German. But the non-Koreans
have all said (quite categorically) that they identify as Korean. The
first episode featured all one hundred competitors blathering platitudes (which
lost a lot in translation) and then they all hung from a bar until they
all eventually fell into a pond. Some sooner than others. It
has to be said it was rather tedious; even with fast-forwarding through the
drivel ("the drivel" being most of the show) it was half an
hour of my life I'm not going to get back. I’ve deleted it from my “Continue
Watching” list, and that is something I rarely do. I
got dressed, made a point of picking up the sandwich I made yesterday and
then walked miles to where I'd parked the car last night. It didn't
take *that* long to scrape the ice from the windscreen, and once I'd avoided
being deliberately run off the road by the HGVs coming up the motorway I
listened to the radio. There
was a lot of talk about the earthquake in
Turkey and about the major international aid effort that is happening.
There was also a lot of talk about the effects of the same earthquake in
Syria and about the lack of an international aid effort. Whilst you have to
have pity for the Syrian victims of this tragedy, I suppose that if you have
a regime supporting those actively conspiring against much of the rest of the
world, the rest of the world is going to tell you to piss off when you
realise that you actually need them. Which is why so many people flee from
the area hoping to settle in somewhere that isn't still operating with a dark
ages mentality. I
got to work despite the fog. The fog was odd; my journey alternated between
thick patches of the stuff with visibility of maybe a couple of dozen yards,
then being perfectly clear again. I got to work where the chap who'd done the
night shift was glad to see me. I'd arrived early as I like to let the person
who's been on all night get away promptly. When
no one was looking I chased up the probate people to check they'd got the
email I'd sent yesterday. Was I being impatient? The automated reply I
received yesterday said that if they wanted any more information then they would let me know. But the automated email
they'd sent me in November had said the same thing... even though (as I
discovered yesterday) they *did* want more information and had no
intention of asking me for it. After
a lot less farting about than I had to fart yesterday I was assured they've
got all that they need from me, and that because we've been waiting for more
than sixteen weeks they are going to "escalate our case" and
we should get probate in three weeks' time. I
bet we don't... Being
on an early meant I was out before the shops closed today. My work shoes have
become incredibly painful recently; the insides of the soles have collapsed,
so I went to Cotswold Outdoors at the Notcutts
Garden Centre to get some more. The nice lady there was incredibly helpful,
and when I came to pay she asked if there was any way she could give me a
discount. I told her where I worked, and she knocked fifteen quid off of the
price of the shoes. Result. I
then drove down to Hythe where I deployed sixteen briefcase Munzees and opened a Qrate (obtaining
a Sloth Cubimal!) before meeting Jose and going
on to Lego club. We had a good hour building things. Lego club has improved
since I was last there; the brats who (quite literally) did nothing
but run in circles screaming have been given the heave-ho. Mind you
attendance was down somewhat. Perhaps
we need to have a big push to get more people along? I
see this evening I have one less Facebook friend than I had this morning.
Someone has decided to de-friend me… and in doing so has automatically become
my Facebook enemy (I don’t make the rules…) And
it is now two days since any young ladies of dubious morals have been in
touch… |
|
8 February 2023
(Wednesday) - This n That
As
I stood in the garden at half past five this morning shivering as the puppies
"did their thing" I found myself wondering. As they are
getting older they are quite capable of going into the garden on their own to
tiddle. Why do they insist that I go with them? They aren't happy if I don't
go with them; if I don't, they both come back to find me. After what seemed to be an age, eventually they both
found the exact spot on which to tiddle, and I took them up to bother “er
indoors TM” , then made toast. After
yesterday's debacle of Netflix's "Physical 100" I've started
re-watching "Downton Abbey". The mansion that was used for
Downton Abbey is the same one that was used for Totleigh
Towers in the 1990s version of "Jeeves and Wooster", and I
keep expecting to see Hugh Lawrie bumbling round the corner to utter a chirpy
"What-ho". And I'd forgotten just
what a nasty bunch most of the servants in Downton Abbey were. I
also found myself wondering just how long shows like this will work. Who has
servants these days? How can anyone relate to that lifestyle? And... the main
thread of the show's plot is much the same as that in another favourite of
mine; “Price and Prejudice”, and is based
on an antiquated law that has long since died. Basically the problem
faced by the denizens of Downton Abbey (and by those of Longbourne in “Pride and Prejudice”) is that the
ownership of the mansion, stately home or palace follows the male line of
inheritance. If the owner of such a property dies with no sons, then the
whole lot goes to the oldest and closest male cousin; no matter how distant.
And so if the male owner dies with no direct male descendants, his wife and
daughters may well find themselves homeless, or dependent on the charity of a
very distant relative. This is rather laughable in today's society but was a
serious consideration back in the day. With
this in mind, look at Shakespeare's plays, the plots of many of which
hinge on an understanding of the society of the times (which is why so few
people understand what the Bard was on about). Or look at Chaucer
wittering on about nun's priests. (What's one of those?) I can
remember in Latin classes at school having to have several lessons in ancient
history before any of the stories of Virgil or Pliny made any sense at all. For
fiction to work, it has to be in a setting to which you can relate, and most
people can only relate to the society in which they live. Look at how the
society portrayed in the original Star Trek (made in the 1960s) is so
different to that of the new Treks (made far more recently) as the
societies making the shows changed. Once
I'd scraped the ice from my car I set off up Brookfield Road, and took a
little diversion to cap some jewels (it's a Munzee thing) before
heading up the motorway to work. As I drove the pundits on the radio were
interviewing Ozzy Osbourne who said he was stopping touring due to health issues,
but said that a ballet inspired by Black Sabbath is in production. Heavy
metal ballet, eh? And
apparently John Cleese is bringing
back Fawlty Towers. I wonder how it will pan out? I'm reminded of how Red Dwarf was
brought back after a hiatus of many years when on 13 April 2009 I wrote
“…I was vaguely disappointed. I can’t help but think that over eight
seasons, the whole premise of the show had been done to death. Last night’s
special was obviously just trying to milk more money out of a tired formula.
Whilst it was watchable, it reminded me of the latest movie version of the
Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy. “Red Dwarf – Back To Earth” was OK, but I’d
seen it all before. There was nothing new or original about the thing - it
was just yet another tired re-make.” Am
I being cynical in thinking that a Fawlty Towers re-boot will just be more of
the same? There
was also a lot of talk about how Microsoft are launching their AI... everyone
has one these days. Would I want one? I'm quite happy with Alexa. I
got to work and did my thing... from a seated position. The new shoes are far
better than the old ones, but my feet were still very painful. I think I
might be developing
flat feet so I've sent to Amazon to get orthotic insoles for the new
shoes. Alexa says they will arrive tomorrow. “er indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit
of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching “Ghosts” and drinking a
rather grim bottle of “Cotes du Rhone”. Not that I’ve much experience
(!) but you have to go a long way to beat the Sainsbury’s cheapo
wines… |
|
9 February 2022
(Thursday) - Some Ranting
I
woke this morning with something of a sense of "do I have to?".
I don't dislike my job; I work in a far better place than where I was ten
years ago. But still I'd rather have my days to myself, walking the dogs round
the woods, pootling in the garden, doing the laundry whilst watching drivel
on the telly, and building Lego. I expect one day I will get my wish, but...
not today. I
got up, chivvied the puppies into the garden, made brekkie, and watched more
"Downton Abbey" in which the dowager countess was being a
total cow-bitch. As were the other ladies of the house. And many of the
servants. Much as I'm enjoying watching Downton Abbey from the start again, I
don't actually like many of the characters very much. I
set the dishwasher going, scraped the ice from the car and spent a moment or
two looking at the pretty sunrise. The photos I took weren't very good, so I
shamelessly blagged “My Boy TM” 's and Tracey's for today's
piccie. I wonder if they will notice… As
I drove to work this morning my piss boiled as I listened to the drivel being
spewed by the pundits on the radio. The
General Synod of the Church of England is meeting today to discuss whether or
not churches can conduct blessings on gay marriages. They
are going to, but in making that decision they have utterly undermined any
respect they might have had from anyone. Their
bible is perfectly clear that it feels homosexuality is wrong. So how can
they even consider this? There was some idiot woman being interviewed on the
matter. Having been a member of the Church of England for forty years she
feels let down that her church doesn't recognise her marriage to her (now)
wife. Is
this woman stupid? Seriously? Has he not listened to a thing the church says?
Does she not read her bible? What
she's advocating is akin to me joining the local running club then demanding
they all take up sitting on the sofa watching telly and eating cake. I'm
reminded of a woman with whom I used to work who was an ardent supporter of
the Conservative party because her father once said she was a "true
blue"... even though she didn't agree with a single thing the
Conservatives stood for and would spout pure socialism to anyone who would
listen. She claimed to be a Conservative through and through, would
distribute pamphlets for the local (Folkestone) Conservative
candidates, would put up posters for them... and then spend an age arguing
with Conservative councillors and the local Conservative MP (who was once
the party leader) that they should abandon pretty much all that they
stood for, and should take up all that which they opposed. There
was also a lot of talk about how the Ukrainian president is touring Europe.
He met the Prime Minister and the King yesterday, and there is talk of the UK
giving Ukraine a squadron
of jet fighters... Bearing
in mind those things cost over eighty
million quid each and a squadron consists of twenty-four of the things,
if the UK hand over a squadron, that's over two billion quid.... just to give
the Russians something to shoot down. Which they will. Let's not
pretend the country is any kind of financial hardships, shall we? If
I was President Putin I'd find out which squadron was due to be handed
over, send in a missile strike, and blat the
planes before the things even took off. Let's
not pretend to be surprised when this happens, eh? As
I worked so my phone pinged. We've reached the first stage of this month's
Munzee Clan War. I say "we"; sadly there's not that many of
us in the clan this month. The head honchos at Munzee HQ have made this
month's Clan War rather difficult for those who opt to play the free version
of the game, and that has gone down like a lead balloon. Bearing in mind the
paid version of Munzee (which I have) sets you back the grand sum of
fifty pence per week, you'd be amazed at the bitter tirades coming from those
who don't want to part with their money. And then my phone pinged again. Due to an unforeseen
family emergency (about which I shall be rather vague) “er indoors TM”
and I had to zoom home from work to supervise “Stormageddon – Bringer of
Destruction TM” and “Darcie Waa Waa
TM” for the evening. We started off with a KFC dinner and sang
the chips song (a musical masterpiece), then “er indoors TM”
and “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” played vinyl
records and audio tapes whilst “Darcie Waa Waa TM”
farted impressively as me and her watched “Bebefinn”.
We all then went upstairs to the video recorder and watched Taz-Mania on VHS.
“Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” was as
good as gold (bearing in mind some recent ”episodes”); he is
fascinated by the ancient technology. I can remember when all of that lot was state of the
art… |
|
10 February 2023
(Friday) - Bit Dull
I woke in a cold sweat this morning after a nightmare
in which I’d been appointed Member of Parliament for Hastings with the
manifesto promise of “You’ve had the sugar, here comes the sh*t”. I did the puppies, and with them snuggling into the
big bed before “er indoors TM” woke, I spent an age trying (unsuccessfully)
to find my sandwich box. I eventually gave up, made toast and scoffed it
whilst watching another episode of “Downton Abbey”. In today’s
installment Lady Emily took her prospective paramour to church whilst Lady
Mary porked the Turkish attaché to death. Quite
literally. This caused quite a lot of consternation; what does one do with
the corpse of a Turkish attaché who has been porked
to death? Once
I’d scraped the ice from the car I set off to work. As I drove, the pundits
on the radio were talking about how courts are stopping the power companies
putting those who can’t afford leccie and gas onto
pre-payment meters. So rather than shivering in the dark, those who can’t
afford leccie and gas are to be allowed to run up
debts they can’t repay? The
obvious answer is to seriously review how leccie
and gas are delivered to the public. I don’t have any answers, but I’ll make
the observation that now that the government have put a cap on how much they
will pay for Russian oil, Russia has put a cap on how much oil it
will supply. Not
having been able to find my sandwich box earlier, I took this as God’s way of
telling me to get a sarnie from Sainsbury’s. So I did. And a croissant for
second brekkie too. There
was a minor hiccup when I came to pay though. The self-service machine froze
up. I smiled hopefully at the three members of staff standing nearby
gossiping, but it took an age before one of them took the hint and did the
job for which they are employed. Unfortunately I had the bad tempered old
harridan with whom I’ve had previous run-ins. As we both stood staring at the
broken self-service machine I made the observation (in a spirit of
helpfulness) that had she been working at the proper tills, then we
wouldn’t have been staring at a broken machine. That
really cheered her up… Work
was work… a rather good day today. I spent the day teaching one of the
trainees the wonders of microscopy. Viral conditions, iron deficiency…
all good stuff. Once home I scoffed the last of yesterday’s leftover
KFC whilst “er indoors TM” boiled up dinner. She boils up a good
dinner. We then scoffed dinner whist watching more “Junior Bake Off”
in which the children cooed up bread which was far better than anything I
could ever do. I think the leftover KFC might have been a mistake… |
|
11 February 2023
(Saturday) - Before the Late Shift
Being wide awake far too early I gave up
trying to sleep, saw to the puppies, and scoffed toast whilst watching more
of my Coursera course. This morning I revised lymphoproliferative conditions
before having a little look at the Internet. It was still there and squabbles
abounded. The atheism Facebook page I’ve started
following was good for a laugh; there were no end of religious crackpots
coming on to either spread the good news of their particular religion, to
warn the godless that they are all going to burn in hell fire, or to confuse
atheism with satanism. There were also no end of very aggressive atheists all
laughing at the unsubstantiated arguments made by the believers, seemingly
oblivious to the fact that their arguments abut the
non-existence of a god are all equally untenable. But it all makes for
entertaining reading. There was also some amazing drivel about how prayers
are more likely to be answered if they are directed via the Middle East. I
can’t help but wonder how you send a prayer on such a little diversion. For myself I’m rather embarrassed that I
really did use to believe in all that rubbish. These days I find myself
thinking along the same lines as
Sir David Attenborough, and he gets hate mail from the righteous. I
remain an apathetic agnostic… there might be a god, there might not. All the
evidence I have is that if there is one, it is completely indifferent to us. I loaded up the washing machine despite
Morgan and Treacle trying to steal grubby socks, and then we all loaded
ourselves into the car and set off to Saturday morning dog club. The actual
name of Dog Club is “Ashford Dog Socialising Group”, and much as the
puppies love it and have a whale of a time, surprisingly the dog who is
perhaps benefitting the most is Treacle. Despite always having had other dogs
around her, she’s never much cared for other dogs. In the few months we’ve
been going she’s got noticeably more tolerant of other dogs. She still don’t
like them very much, and we still have little “episodes” (like we
did today) but slowly we’re making progress with her. Whilst she mostly kept herself to herself and
grudgingly tolerated the other dogs so Morgan and Bailey had great fun. It
was a shame that Morgan had to try to pull lumps of fluff from Fluffy Luna,
and it was also a shame that I found one of the other dog-keepers trying to
fend Bailey off so that she could gather her dog’s poo before Bailey ate it.
But on the whole, dog club was a resounding success. As the days are getting
warmer so attendance is increasing, and as spring is in the air, so the boy
dogs were all getting “fruity”… mostly with other boy dogs. And the little pug Sharkey tiddled up a few
legs too… I
took a few photos whilst we were there. As we drove home Steve was on the radio doing the Mystery Year quiz
thingy. I got it right… 1988. “er indoors TM” said I’d guessed
right. It wasn’t a guess; it was skill and expertise (!) We got home; “er indoors TM” took the dogs inside
whilst I popped up the road to the corner shop for a couple of pastries to
scoff with a cuppa. Eventually I got to hang out the washing when the washing machine
finished. That machine is strange. Several times each week I load it up on
setting number two and press the “go” button”. The numbers “1:50”
appear on the thing’s screen and count down. But what do these numbers mean?
Today the thing took just over two hours to finish; other times it is done in
just under an hour. With laundry hung out I set off to work and
had a rather busy day. When I first started professionally testing blood,
half a dozen blood samples all afternoon would have been thought excessive.
Today I (quite literally) didn’t stop at all. Certainly not how I’d rather be spending a
Saturday afternoon and evening… |
|
12 February 2023
(Sunday) - Lazy Day
By
the time I’d got out late from work, taken an age driving home and one thing
and another it was after midnight before I got to bed last night. I was
pleased for a bit of a lie-in this morning. I eventually woke just before
nine o’clock to find a bed full of dogs. As they and “er indoors TM”
snored I put a load of washing on, made brekkie and had a look-see
at the Internet. I
had another two friend requests on Facebook from rather dodgy
looking individuals. The first claimed to be called “Noah” and
hailed from Los Angeles where she “works at Mistress”, and judging by
some of the photos on her Facebook page would be far better employed working
at more hygienic activities. The
second one (Alexandra) comes from Fresno and claimed to be “domina, sadistic, classy” (is that good
or bad?). She lists “dogs” as one of her interests so I suppose we
might have that in common, but judging by her Facebook profile she would seem
to be far more interested in running round in the nip with a very saucy
expression whilst odd looking people in even odder bondage costumes look on. So
far not a single one of these “ladies” (if that is the right term)
have offered me any cake… If they did I might be a bit more interested. I
sent out a birthday wish to a young lady who once did offer me cake, and got
dressed. Call me old fashioned if you will, but even with absolutely nothing
on the agenda, jim-jams is for the evening, not the morning. I
set the washing machine loose on a job lot of my undercrackers and went up to
the attic where I carried on with my Lego pirate ship. On 8
November last year a colleague gave me a little pressie. Her mother had
acquired a Lego pirate ship set for her children, but on finding some bits
were missing they weren’t able to complete it. Did
I want it? Yes
please !!! It
has been a
rather fun project - it has taken me three months, and I’ve had to make
serious use of my spare bits. I had to send to BrickLink
(it’s a Lego thing) in Germany and America for an anchor, masts,
plastic rigging and steering wheels, and to Hobbycraft for the black yarn
rigging. Now
it is built I need to find some space to display it… I have a vague idea of
building a Lego harbour round it… With
it finished “er indoors TM” (and the dogs) came to
have a look. “er indoors TM” then misplaced something or
other, and announced that the attic might be haunted as things keep going
missing from there. And
then the missing thing turned up. Where it had been left. I
then slobbed on the sofa with the dogs for a bit
then, seeing the earlier drizzle has eased up, we took the dogs for a little
walk round the roads. As we walked I carried on the dogs’ walk training.
Treacle always sits when we come to cross a road. Morgan is learning to do
so. And Bailey shows no interest in doing so and flatly refuses to do so. We
came home, and I made myself comfortable in front of the telly wand watched a
load of episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which again the people running
the worst bed & breakfasts were by far the most critical of everyone
else. One of the places being visited today came in for a lot of criticism
from everyone; every breakfast they served was absolutely smothered in
pepper. The woman brandishing the pepper pot claimed that if anyone doesn’t
like pepper then they should say so *before* she empties half a pound
of the stuff on their plate. What is that all about? As
I watched telly there was a minor hiatus as the power suddenly went off. We
had a five-minute power cut. Apparently a mile or so away “My Boy TM”
had a power cut which lasted for an hour. With power restored and telly watched I spent some
time fetching and carrying whilst “er indoors TM” dusted dragon
ornaments. They needed some dusting, and we only did about thirty of so of
her six hundred dragons. With
one set of shelves dusted we set about a very good dinner whilst watching
today’s episode of “Lego Masters”. In this one the teams made dragons which
then flew (attached to drones) round a slalom course. Three crashed
catastrophically. Having
just worked six days on the trot, I quite enjoyed having a lazy day… even if
there was so much more we might have done. |
|
13
February 2023 (Monday) - Before the Late Shift
With no
alarm set I slept to over eight hours last night, finally waking as a wet
nose thrust itself into my armpit at quarter to eight. I got up, I put eleven
things into the washing machine (as the clothes horse has eleven rungs),
and set about some toast as I looked at the Internet. Or tried to. The laptop
said it was connected to the Internet, but nothing internet-related was
happening at all. I could understand the lap-top’s reluctance to go on-line;
when it finally did I saw I had two more “friend” requests on Facebook. The one
with more clothes on (and the scarier chest) claimed to be called “Harriet”
and claimed that someone has set up a fake Facebook account using her picture
and I shouldn’t accept a friend request from that account, though she was
rather vague why I shouldn’t. The
other one was called “Dominatriz” and
amongst the people listed on her account as her friends was “Peculiar
Peter”. I reported both to the Facebook Feds for being extremely
un-moral. It’s not often that I can claim the moral high ground, is it? I sent
out a birthday request to an old friend from primary school who I haven’t
seen in person since 1975, rolled my eyes at various petty squabbles… and
gave up trying to look at the Internet. All three dogs were having a serious
play-fight, and if any one dog was feeling victimised they would jump onto me
for support. As the
dogs were full of beans I took them out. It was too late to get to Kings Wood
and back. Orlestone is a swamp at this time of
year. So (against my better judgement) we went to the park. We got
there and I let the dogs off of their leads, They immediately went to bother
the normal people so I blew the whistle and they came straight back. I was
impressed. As we went round the park so the puppies would charge up to random
normal people, and immediately come back to the sound of the whistle. As we
walked some old chap (about my age) told me he must speak to me. My
heart sank as I expected the worst. But I was wrong to be pessimistic. This
bloke said that he’d seen us coming into the park and watched me letting the
dogs off of the leads. He admitted he thought I must have been mad to let
such small dogs loose, but he said he was really impressed at how the dogs
responded to the whistle, and wanted to know how I did it. I explained the
principle of whistle training (feeling rather smug). Whistle training
is incredibly impressive to watch – when it works. When it doesn’t it is
frankly embarrassing, but we are probably up to about an eighty per cent
success rate with the puppies. With
walk walked I popped to the corner shop for pastries to have with a cuppa. I
get those when “er indoors TM” is working from home. We
scoffed them with a cuppa as I paid a bill. We had the boiler serviced
exactly a month ago (on 13 January) and the nice lady at the plumbers
(one of my ex-trainees) posted the bill right away. It arrived this
morning. A second class letter took a month to get to me… I wrote
up a
little CPD, then set off to work. With
nothing of note on the radio I sang along to “Ivor Biggun”
songs as I drove up the motorway. Having seen the price of petrol in Ashford
I drove up to Aylesford where it was twelve pence a litre cheaper, and so I
saved myself five quid. As I walked to the kiosk to pay so the chap parked at
the pump in front of me stopped me and pointed out we both had the same sort
of car. He was amazingly excited about this. To me,
any car which is beige in colour is that same as my car, but apparently our
cars were both Skoda Fabias. And being next to each
other was really something… according to this chap. Bless him. But
much as I mock, that was pretty much it for my day… A dull one really. |
|
14
February 2023 (Tuesday) - Valentine's Day
It was
incredibly foggy as I took the puppies out this morning, but they didn't seem
at all bothered. Did they even notice? All they were interested in was
emptying out as quickly as possibly because then they are allowed up to the
big bed. With
them settled I made toast and watched more "Downton Abbey"
in which Lady Mary having porked the Turkish
attaché to death is now looking set to do the same thing to Mister Matthew. As I
watched telly so I sorted undercrackers. This certainly wasn't the life I had
in mind all those years ago... As I
drove through the fog to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing
journalist Wiebke Hüster.
Fraulein Hüster had published a review of a ballet
directed by Marco Goecke. Herr Goecke
didn't like the review, and so when Fraulein Hüster
next came to the ballet, Herr Goecke publicly
harangued her, and rubbed dog shit in her face whilst dozens of people looked
on. Hanover State Opera (who own the actual ballet) have said that
Herr Goecke has been suspended with immediate
effect, as his "impulsive reaction" went against its rules
of conduct. After
that, the rest of the day's news rather paled into insignificance. Just as I got to the works car park so my phone beeped. It was “er
indoors TM” telling me that (yet again) I'd left my
sandwich box at home. It is just as well that there's a branch of M&S at
work, but four quid a day gets a tad pricey. I also
had an email. His Majesty's Courts and Tribunals Service had agreed that me
and my brother can have probate on Dad's house. That was something of a
result... now to sell the thing. According
to the Internet (so it must be true) there are seven steps of selling
a property:
So... in the first instance can any of my loyal
readers recommend a good estate agent? “er indoors TM” boiled
up a rather good bit of dinner this evening. Chicken and spinach thingies. We
scoffed them whilst watching “Junior Bake Off”. I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I’m feeling washed out. I really
should go to bed… bet I don’t. |
|
15 February 2023 (Wednesday) - Ironing For Three Hours
I woke in a
cold sweat in the small hours. This happens with annoying regularity. This
time it was after a nightmare in which I'd been invited to a party to
celebrate the retirement of John Le Mesurier (who was Sergeant Wilson in Dad's
Army"). Nobody but me thought it odd to have a retirement party for
someone who'd died forty years ago. It was foggy when I took the puppies out into the garden. They did
what I wanted them to do, and then squeaked in excitement as I let them
upstairs and helped them on to the big bed. With them settled I made toast
and watched more "Downton Abbey" in which Lady Mary was
causing consternation (and that was without anyone knowing about the poor
Turkish attaché that she'd porked to death
last week) Remembering to pick up my sarnies (that I forgot yesterday) I
set off to work through the thick fog. Despite visibility being down to only
ten yards at times there were still idiots on the roads flying around at
breakneck speeds. As I drove to work the pundits on the radio had quite a lot to say for
themselves. There was a lot of talk about whatever it is that the
Americans had shot down over the weekend. Last week they brought down a
Chinese balloon. Whether spying or on meteorological research is anyone's
guess, but having brought one down, flushed with success the Americans
brought down three more last weekend. However "three more what"
is the question everyone is asking. The Americans have obviously potted three
"things", but no one knows precisely what. No government or
commercial company is complaining that they have had anything shot down. There was talk about a male contraceptive pill
which stops the little tadpoles from swimming about. Our old friend science
has been hoping for a male contraceptive pill for years. Call me puritanical
if you will, but I can't see what's wrong with a cold shower and a firm moral
stance. And my piss boiled as a self-styled expert started talking about blood
transfusions. Apparently during the massive blood shortages of last year
hundreds of thousands of people volunteered to be blood donors. Only a
quarter of these people have actually given any, and there were calls for all
the other volunteers to stump up what they had promised. What boiled my piss
was the oh-so-simplistic talk of "universal donors" and
"universal recipients". If it were really so simple why
would we spend so much effort in compatibility testing? Here's a tip - if you
ever encounter anyone using the word "universal" with regard
to blood transfusions, rest assured you are dealing with someone who knows
absolutely nothing about the subject. I got to work for the
early shift and go on with it. But an early start made for an early finish,
and I was glad to get home early and walk the dogs. We didn’t go far; just
round the block, but they liked the outing. And with a short walk walked they
settled down. “er indoors TM” was off out with her work
pals this evening, so I got the ironing board out and spent three hours
emptying the ironing box. There’s never a dull moment in my life, is there? As I ironed I watched
more “Downton Abbey”, and paused only when the puppies asked for their
dinner. They really did ask for it; both dabbed at me, then ran to their
empty bowls, then ran back and dabbed at me, and kept on until I sorted their
scran. I sorted my own scran
too; “er indoors TM” had left some scoff and instructions
on how to operate the new oven. It took some operating… |
|
16 February 2023
(Thursday) - Dull, So Dull...
“er indoors TM” and Treacle came to bed about half an hour or so after I nodded off
last night. I pretended to sleep as Treacle stomped all over the place whilst
“er indoors TM” argued and fought with her, and then I lay
awake only dozing on and off for much of the night. It
wasn't foggy when I took the puppies outside this morning, but it had been
raining. Usually we have a refusal to go out when the ground is wet, but they
charged out, did what they had to do, and charged back in again. By the time
I'd closed the back door behind them, both babies were throwing themselves at
the door to upstairs, squeaking and squealing in excitement. I
made toast and scoffed it whilst watching the first episode of the second
season of "Downton Abbey" in which the porked-to-death
Turkish attaché is now just a sad memory. I've said before that I like any
kind of TV show (or radio show or book) in which I can relate to the
characters, and the makers of "Downton Abbey" have got it
nailed. As I watched this morning I realised that "His Lordship"
is a dead ringer for one of the doctors with whom I work at Tunbridge Wells.
The cow-bitch-from-hell ladies maid could have been based on someone
with whom I worked fifteen years ago who would deliberately alienate herself
from absolutely everyone she could. The dowager countess could have been the
twin of an old duck from the church from my religious days… Remembering
to pick up my lunch box I set off for work. As I drove up the motorway
I found myself being grateful for small mercies; the fifty miles per hour
dual carriageway bit has been reduced to only eight miles long. But despite
having this restriction so that road works can be done, there is still no one
actually doing any road works. You'd think that having someone getting on and
doing the road works would be a pre-requisite for closing a road for
road works, wouldn't you? As
I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how Nicola Sturgeon has thrown in the
towel as First Minister of Scotland. There
was an interview with the leader of the Scottish Tories who claimed that she
was leaving on a high as she'd pretty much exhausted all avenues available
for the Scottish independence campaign and had nowhere else to go. He also
claimed that the complete hash she'd made over the
entire trans issue probably hadn't helped her, and he's probably
got a point. Interestingly he claimed that he had a bet with Ms Sturgeon that
she would be out of office before he would be, and I got the impression that
he was more interested in collecting the hundred quid he felt he was owed
than he was in anything else. Work
was work; as I did my bit I had a text from the dentist. They have cancelled
my appointment with the hygienist next week. This isn't the first time they
have cancelled at rather short notice. As I have said before, if the place
wasn't just a hundred yards down the road I would have parted company with
them years ago. I
re-scheduled but have been told I won't be seeing the usual hygienist. I
thought about making the observation that I see a different one every time,
but thought better of upsetting them. And then an hour later they
phoned me again; seemingly utterly oblivious to the fact that we'd already
booked another appointment. “er
indoors TM” boiled up dinner… we watched telly… today was one of
those dull days. |
17 February 2023 (Friday) - Thinking Of Mum
Finding
myself falling asleep in front of the telly at ten o'clock last night I had
an early night... and was wide awake at twenty past two. Perhaps I should go
back to the hospital's sleep clinic? Mind you the last time I went they told
me to keep going with the CPAP machine and not to drink coffee before going
to bed. Perhaps enough people do drink coffee before bed so that telling them
not to gives the sleep clinic a reasonable success rate? To be honest apart
from the CPAP machine, when I saw the sleep specialist last time he didn't
tell me anything that my grandmother didn't fifty years ago. I
dozed on and off for a bit, but eventually gave up, got up and did my usual
morning ritual. I really should chuck a bucket of bleach over where Morgan
tiddles; I have no sense of smell, but it might be getting a tad whiffy? As
I scoffed toast I watched more "Downton Abbey". Lady Mary's
peccadilloes are history; Lady Sybil is causing consternation and the
chauffer has gone so far as to plight his troth. At Lady Sybil. The beast(!)
Mind you, I think she’s up for a portion… I
picked up my sandwich box and made my way to my car. As I left the house I
dodged the wheelie-bin being carelessly flung in my direction by the bin-man.
He half grunted / half mumbled an apology. I made the observation that God
forbid they should put the bins so as not to deliberately block up the entire
pavement, and the chap had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed. Back
in the day the bin men would pick the dustbins from your garden, empty them
into the lorry and put them back where they found them. These days they won't
touch them unless they are out on the pavement (as they aren't insured to
step into your garden!), and having emptied most (but not all) of
what's in the bin into the lorry, they just randomly fling them somewhere out
of their way. I've whinged about this before; I've complained to the council
before but have been told that "we must all appease the contractor". Being
up and about ridiculously early I thought I might take the opportunity to run
a little geo-errand. A couple of years ago I put out a series of geocaches in
the back of beyond. In their first few months they proved rather popular, but
within the first year pretty much everyone who was anyone in the geo-world
had been out and done them. Over the last few months it has become very clear
that they've run their course. Bearing in mind that the area is alive with
pheasants and so a pain to walk with dogs (Treacle ran off the last time I
was there - and that *never* happens!) maintenance is an issue for me, so
I had good reasons to archive the series, and none to keep it going. A
fellow hunter of Tupperware walked the series yesterday and gathered up all
the film pots from under the rocks, and so with a little time on my hands I
drove out to where he'd stashed them all for me. I
drove off northwards, but after fifty yards an alarm went off on the car's
dashboard. The boot was supposedly open. I stopped the car, opened and closed
the boot, and the alarm shut up. What was that all about? As
I drove there was a lot of talk on the radio about the missing woman Nicola
Bulley. The local police have come in for a lot of stick for releasing
details about her struggles with alcohol and the menopause. Her family have
asked for an end to speculation in the media about her. Whilst I sympathise
for the family, I can't help but wonder just what it is about this case that
has caught the public's interest. After all, on average each year over five
thousand people in the UK have been reported as having been missing
for over a year. Where
do these people all go? And why is there no public outcry about them? There
was also an interview with the head honcho of Britain's radiologists on
radio. He (again) made the observation that the current NHS strikes
aren't just to feather the nest of those in the NHS; they are to try to make
the NHS a more attractive place to work. Yesterday there was an interview
with the manager of a GP practice who pointed out that you can't force anyone
to be a health care professional. He was saying that they have had no
applicants for advertised jobs at all, and wondered what you do when
there is a clear and present need for a job that no one is willing to do. He
actually said on live radio that perhaps the only way to recruit a GP was to
kidnap one from elsewhere. It might well come to that. All the time you earn (on average) nine
hundred quid a year more from being a dustman than you do from being a nurse,
who's going to want to go into healthcare? I
collected my geocaches from where they had been stashed; I drove on to work.
Work was much the same as ever. As I worked I had an email from the bosses. Have
a look at this. I
try not to talk too much about work, but I will make the observation that I
work in the fifth best NHS Trust out of one hundred and twenty. I'll also
make the observation that where I used to work was once rated the best but is
now in position seventy-five. And
then my phone beeped to tell me it was going to update my watch's software. I
wish it wouldn't do that sort of thing, but by the time I'd found out it was
already on the case. It has been my experience that any kind of IT upgrade
actually renders that which is being upgraded less able to do the job it is
intended to do. After an age my watch told me it had been updated. Apart from
the battery power level being a lot lower than it was I can't really see much
difference. So far... “er
indoors TM” boiled up fish and chips which we scoffed whilst
watching the first episode of the new season of “Star Trek: Picard”.
It reminded me very much of a predecessor series “Star Trek: Enterprise”
in that once the show’s cancellation was announced it suddenly started
getting rather good. Oh
- and today is the second anniversary of my mum’s passing… It rather preyed
on my mind today… |
|
18 February 2023
(Saturday) - Busy Busy
I
slept better than I have done recently, but finding myself wide awake an hour
or so earlier than I would have liked I got up and did my usual morning
things. As I scoffed toast I watched more “Downton Abbey” in which
Lady Edith was looking set to get jiggy down on the farm. And then after
completely unrelated shenanigans, Carson the Butler had a funny turn. God
only knows what he will do when he finds out about Lady Edith. I woke “er indoors TM” and the
puppies, and as they did their things I had a look at the Internet. This
morning my Facebook feed was heaving with the most odd adverts. Among other
things I had adverts for “Goose Island” – a Welsh company making
ladies clothes and the “National Organisation
for Marriage” – an American crackpot religion. These people pay for
targeted advertising – they really should ask for their money back. Pausing only briefly to get cake from the co-op we
drove round to the Repton estate for dog club. Morgan and Bailey were very
soon in the thick of things, and after a couple of early grumbles Treacle
walked a circuit of the field with me as she tolerated the other dogs. She
then played with Morgan and Bailey as they played with other dogs. Treacle
didn’t actually engage directly with the other dogs, but she was putting up
with their presence, allowing sniffing to happen, and even letting other dogs
come up to “er indoors TM” and me. Even when treats were
involved. She’s slowly improving; bless her. I
took a few photos whilst the dogs ran round. As
we drove home we listened to Steve on the radio… the mystery year was 1970 –
or so I thought. It turned out I was right. Once
home the worn-out dogs snoozed, and then we saw movement outside. Someone was
doing the geocache in the garden. We went outside to say hello… and it was
one of the young ladies from dog club. That was something of a surprise for
all of us. I
then spent a few hours working on geo-plans for the future. I’ve rather given
up on hunting Tupperware recently, but it isn’t a bad way to spend some time. We
then went round to see Steve and Sarah… and the kittens. They were rather
sweet, but they are on the sharp side. Puppies are far more blunt. It
would have been good to have stayed longer, but there was a family gathering
in honour of Fred’s birthday. A couple of hours scoffing buffet scoff and
washing it down with mild… Can’t
be bad. Not
a bad start to a week off work… |
|
19 February 2023
(Sunday) - Bluebell Hill to Nashenden (and back)
I slept rather well last night… perhaps the fourth
pint of light & mild had some bearing on that. “er indoors TM”
let the pups up at early o’clock, and we all dozed contentedly for a while. Over
toast I had a look at the Internet and rolled my eyes at the squabbling about
Friday’s episode of “Star Trek: Picard”. There has always been
squabbling about Star Trek by the fans, but it is getting out of hand these
days. Thirty years away the only way to interact with other Trekkies was via
the fan made newsletters and magazines. I used to subscribe to one; there’s
an archive of the
things here. But if I disagreed with what someone had said I would have
to write a letter, get a stamp and envelope and post it. All that took time,
and so I would think about what I was saying, and re-write and re-draft so
that (hopefully) what I was saying was clear and to the point. These
days with the instant communication of the Internet people misunderstand what
others write, respond (in less than a minute) with “you are a cock”
and it all goes downhill from there. Such
a shame… It
was at that point that Morgan and Bailey appeared on either side of me and
started to use me as a battleground. I saw that as a hint to get up and get
on. We
got ourselves and the dogs organised and drove up to Bluebell Hill. A new
series of geocaches had gone live up there. What used to be a regular weekly
outing has become something of a novelty. We were all soon together and off
on our walk. It was a tad breezy across the top of the hill, but the views…
beautiful. We’d never have seen them if not for this silly hobby of ours. It
was a shame that both puppies had to roll in something disgusting about a
third of the way round, but that’s the way dogs roll in the shire. As we
walked we found a little stall selling jam for a greyhound charity, so I got
some. Perhaps I paid too much, but it was all for a good cause. You
can see some
photos of our walk here. Geocache-wise
it was a rather good series. Some hides were trickier than others, all
reasonably spaced out on a route which was pretty and easy to follow. I would
certainly recommend it. I (and the dogs) slept all the way home. “er
indoors TM” took a little diversion to Tesco (for dog food)
and we all slept through that too. Once home the smaller dogs had an
obligatory scrub; if you don’t want to be forcibly bathed, don’t roll in fox
poo. A little maxim which is just as applicable to people as it is to dogs. “er
indoors TM” boiled up a very good curry which we scoffed whilst
watching this evening’s episode of “Lego Masters: Australia”. A
Hallowe’en themed episode… maybe we might have themed evenings at Lego club? I’m
feeling worn out – I’ve got out of the habit of going for long walks… |
|
20 February 2023
(Monday) - Bluewater
I slept for nine hours last night, and was rather
aching when I woke. Leaving “er indoors TM” and the dogs
asleep I got up and made toast and had a little look at the Internet. I had
yet another dubious friend request, and added it to
the album. This one was ostensibly from a young lady who claimed to have been
born in London but who has since emigrated to the southern highlands of Papua
New Guinea where she has cultivated a rather impressive chest. She’d sent me
a photo of it. I must admit that had I such an epic pair I too would brandish
it with such abandon. I
also found myself faced with adverts for tropical fish shops from
ridiculously far away. Just recently I’ve found I’ve had amazing service from
the branches of Maidenhead Aquatics in the local Dobbies
and in Notcutts garden centre in Maidstone. I shall
stick with them. We
got ourselves ready to go out and settled the pups, and just as we were about
to walk out the door so my phone pinged. A new geocache had gone live which was
about fifty yards off of our planned route. So we set off and took a fifty
yards diversion, and within a minute had the new geocache in our hands. First
ones to find it too; it was only a shame that in my hurry I managed to fill
my hand with splinters and thorns. We
then drove out to Charing where “er indoors TM” collected a
bargain she’d got from Facebook Marketplace, and from there went on to
Bluewater. On
arrival we had a little wander around; as we saw what was what and what was
where we did a geocaching Adventure Lab cache. Whilst it made us notice all
sorts of things we otherwise would have walked straight past, we rather
struggled with finding the actual locations as the GPS really didn’t want to
work indoors. By
then we were hungry so we decided that a spot of lunch would be a good thing.
And you can’t go wrong with a cheeky Nando… or so I thought. To be honest the
service was excellent. The food was brought out with a minimum of waiting
around, and it was *really* good. However all of that was let down by
the background music; mind you “background music” wouldn’t have been a
bad thing. What Nando had was a frankly awful repetitive chanting caterwaul
played at deafening level. I suspect it was the dreadful background noise
which made the small child (three tables away) scream constantly the
entire time we were there. The
resulting headache lasted all afternoon. We
came home, woke the dogs and walked them round the co-op field practicing
whistle training. As we walked round the field I couldn’t help but look at
the trees which have been planted and have ruined the fied.
Last year the council announced that they were going to plant over a hundred
and thirty thousand trees as part of the “plant
a tree for the jubilee” initiative. I can’t help but feel that it
would have been better to have had a “plant a tree and look after it”
initiative rather than a “plant a tree, forget all about it, let it die
and get overgrown with brambles” initiative which is what would seem to
have happened While
we were in Bluewater I’d got us some Whitby buns. We had them with a cuppa
after our walk as we watched episodes of “Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins”,
We spent half the time in frank amazement at the physical tasks faced by the
contestants, and the other half of the time wondering just who these
so-called celebrities were. Over
a light tea of pizza we watched some of the episodes of “Hancock’s Half
Hour” that UK Gold has recently restored. I know some might regard me as
a heretic for saying so, but Tony Hancock is up there with Woody Allen and
Lenny Henry in that I honestly believe the only reason that they are famous
comedians is because everyone thinks that everyone else thinks they are
hilarious, and no one wants to admit the truth. With
“er indoors TM” off bowling I made myself comfortable om
the sofa underneath a pile of dogs and watched a couple of episodes of “Downton
Abbey”. Ethel is in disgrace having got tubbed off of Major Bryant.
Things were very different a hundred years ago… |
|
21 February 2023
(Tuesday) - A Rather Lazy Birthday
I would have had an excellent night’s sleep had “er indoors TM”’s
alarm kept quiet. Mind you it didn’t go off before a wet nose had thrust
itself into my armpit, so I shouldn’t grumble. For over thirty years I would be woken at exactly twenty past seven on
my birthday with a phone call from my mum who could never wait any longer
before wishing me “Happy Birthday”. I miss those phone calls. I made toast and had a look at the Internet. Nearly forty people had
already wished me a happy birthday by the time I’d scoffed brekkie. Seeing
the time made me think… it was just after nine o’clock. Fifty years ago I’d
have been standing in a classroom with the rest of the class howling the “happy
birthday” song at me and the two other classmates with whom I shared a
birthday. I wonder whatever happened to those two. One of them (Johnnie
Walker – he really was called Johnnie Walker) I’ve never seen since we
left primary school in 1975, and the other (Leslie Marriott) I last
saw in 1982 when he was on his way to a job in an insurance agent’s office in
Brighton. After a little farting around spent blagging
MP3 files from YouTube we went round to “My Boy TM” and Cheryl’s.and from there we all walked out to Great Chart.
As we walked I felt myself wilting; I really wasn’t feeling on top form. But
we had a good walk. We came home, and with the dogs settled, “er indoors TM”
drove us up to the Beefeater in Hothfield. A mixed grill, a peanut butter
sundae and two bottle of “Rocking Rudolph” did it for me. With scoff
scoffed we came home and I fell asleep in front of the telly. I went to sleep with Bailey on top of me, and woke up (two hours
later) with Morgan where she had been. We settled the pups and went round
to My Boy TM” and Cheryl’s. Cheryl had made loads of
pancakes and waffles and we scoffed ourselves silly before slobbing in front of the telly. Not a bad way to spend a birthday… over a hundred and twenty people
sent me birthday messages. I’m rather pleased about that. I still feel under the weather though. I’m absolutely worn out even
though I’ve done very little other than a short walk, eat far too much and
sleep… |
|
22 February 2023
(Wednesday) - A Lazy Day
I
woke with backache this morning. This seems to happen if I stay in my pit for
too long. I don’t get the backache when I get up silly early. I’m thinking
I’m getting used to the new mattress. If any of my loyal readers would like a
used king-sized mattress, do let me know, or I shall have to get the council
on the case. I
made brekkie and peered into the Internet. It was still there. Squabbles and
trivia abounded, as they do. Ironically while I’m having a week off work a
new geocache had gone live about two minutes’ walk from work. The
dog-hater brigade was out in force on the local Facebook page, but (to be
honest) dogs was but one topic about which people were quarrelling this
morning. I swear if I was to post on there saying “Ashford is a town in
Kent”, not one person would agree. I
got the dogs together and we went out for a walk. We drove up to Kings Wood
and walked round. We met a few other dog walkers and the meetings passed off
without incident. We saw a herd of deer and the dogs gave chase, but all came
back to the sound of the whistle (to my amazement). At about three and
a half miles into the walk (two miles from the nearest car parks) we
found a port-a-loo. What was a turdis doing in the
middle of the woods? The
only problem we had today was when some brat (who should have been in
school) charged at Bailey screaming “DOG DOG
DOG” and tried to grab her. Poor Bailey ran in
terror. Mother loudly announced that if the brat asked nicely then the brat
might be allowed to pet the dog. I announced equally loudly that I didn’t
think that would happen as the poor pup was terrified. You’d
think children would be taught how to behave round dogs, wouldn’t you? I’ve
had other children grab Pogo by the ears and scream in its face because (as
the mother told me) the child doesn’t like dogs. We
came home, and as I so often do I slobbed on the
sofa watching episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which some Angolan chap
slagged off all the opposition until it was his turn to play host at which
point he suddenly fell ill. Strange,
that… “er
indoors TM” sorted a rather good dinner which we scoffed whilst
watching more “Junior Bake Off” in which the poor child with the
miserable expression got chucked out, and then we watched Paul Merton driving
a motorhome round Minehead. The Baptist minister of Minehead was one of my
best friends fifty years ago and so I followed that show like a hawk just in
case he appeared. I’m
quite enjoying these lazy days… I’m rather good at them. |
|
23 February 2023
(Thursday) - A Muddy Walk
I
woke when a wet nose shoved itself into my face this morning. Rather than
getting up I let the puppies have ten minutes on the big bed as they really
do love it. I
made toast, and as I scoffed it I had a look at the internet just in case
anything much had changed overnight. It hadn’t really. I glossed over the
petty bickering in the hope of finding something work looking at, and was sadly
disappointed. I
sent out two birthday messages, and got the dogs ready for an outing. As
we drove the pundits on the radio were wittering on about someone or other
who was some big cheese in the world of cinema. God only knows who it was,
and after they’d wittered they then apologised for having got whoever-it-was’
name wrong. They didn’t apologize for getting Star Trek confused with Star
Wars though. It was at that point that I turned the radio off and sang
along to my rather odd choice of MP3s. We
got to Kings Wood and went off for a little wander. Two of my geocaches up
there had reports which made me think they’d gone missing, so I replaced
both. And while I was at it I hid a new one. As
we walked we had a shock… some woman and her cart-horse-sized dog jumped out
at us from behind a tree (not ten yards away) and she started
shrieking about how her dog was scared of other dogs. My three stayed with me
as we walked by. I made the observation that next time she might like to
shout from a hundred yards away rather than hiding until we were almost on
top of her, but there is no reasoning with some idiots. With
walk walked we came back to the car. I opened the boot, said “boot dogs”
and helped Bailey in – she is too small to do “boot dogs” on her own.
I then blasted the whistle and gave them a treat each… and then another idiot
bustled over. She’d seen me with my three dogs before; she was impressed with
how I handled them (that was nice!), but she had a word of advice for
me. She also has “multiple dogs” and finds it far easier to walk them
one at a time. She’d just walked one dog round the woods, and was going home
to swap the walked dog for another. She seriously felt I would get on better
by making the fifteen-minute drive to the woods with just Treacle, going four
miles round the woods with her, then having half an hour’s round trip to drop
Treacle at home and collect Morgan… and then with Bailey. I suggested that if
I started at nine o’clock I would finish at four o’clock, and that wasn’t
allowing for dinner. Does
anyone else attract these looneys? As
I drove home I was mystified by an odd beeping sound. I think it was “Hannah”;
my GPS unit, but I’m not convinced it wasn’t the car whinging about something
or other. We
got home and went from “boot dogs” to “bath dogs”, and once
they were scruubed I got some KFC for us all to
share for lunch. As
we scoffed I watched an episode of “Downton Abbey” which was rather
sad as William the footman croaked. However in a triumph for puritans
everywhere, Mister Matthew’s injury has put paid to any nudey
prod games, so Miss Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief. I
then wrote up the geo-admin for the geocache I hid this morning (that took
over an hour) and sent it all off to the geo-feds. If it gets the
thumbs-up it will be the five hundredth one that I’ve hidden. And
then I slobbed in front of the telly underneath a
pile of dogs… I do that a lot these days. My
face feels rough… I’ve not shaved today. I *always* have a shave. How
did I forget? |
|
24 February 2023
(Friday) - Dentist, Walk, Writing a Wherigo
Some
mornings my lap-top is a wonder of technology. Other mornings not so. This
morning I turned it on and there was a twenty minute delay whilst the browser
window farted about doing absolutely nothing at all. In the task manager it
was obvious that it was doing all sorts of things, but doing whatever those
things were had rendered it utterly useless for the tasks it is supposed to
do. Eventually
it got going, and I saw I had two friend requests on Facebook. The first from
a woman in a leather leotard with a haircut that looked like her mum had done
it, the other from someone who looked like she was playing dressing up at
being a vampire. I
also saw that the closest beach to me has been declared unsafe for swimming
for the rest of the year due to the high levels of bacteria
from raw sewage that is floating round the place. I
had an email from the geo-feds. The Wherigo geocache I hid yesterday had got
the thumbs-down. Could I please replace the word “Garmin” in the
written description with “hand held GPS devices”. Bearing in mind that
I’d copied and pasted from a geocache description that had been accepted a
year ago I took a deep breath and did that which was asked of me, and the
thing went live ten minutes later. I
downloaded bank account statements and had my monthly tot up of how much I’ve
squandered. The fish and chips we had at the seaside on 22 January didn’t
appear on my credit card bill, nor did whatever it was that I got from Tesco
on 23 January. That’s twenty quid in my back pocket. Result. And
so to the dentist. All was mostly OK… it took him maybe thirty seconds to
determine that. I’ve got a chipped tooth which he suggested I got fixed. I’m
booked in to get it done in three weeks. Mind you I had an appointment with
the dental hygienist yesterday that got cancelled. I reckon two out of three
appointments I make with them get cancelled so I doubt they will keep
this one. I
took the dogs up to Kings Wood where we explored somewhere different. The
pups seemed to enjoy being out, but unlike yesterday they didn’t come home
smothered in mud. Which was another result. Shortly
after getting home I had an email telling me that the Wherigo geocache I’d
hidden yesterday (that went live this morning) had been found. Flushed
with enthusiasm I spent the afternoon writing another Wherigo. It is nearly
ready for testing… “er
indoors TM” boiled up sausages and chips for dinner which we scoffed
whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Picard” which was
rather good. My
nose really hurts; it feels like I’ve been punched in it. What’s that all
about? |
|
25 February 2023
(Saturday) - Sorting Dad's Stuff
Treacle
was rather restless in the night. “er indoors TM” took her
outside at four o’clock and came back up with the puppies. After a couple of
hours Bailey got off the bed and ran downstairs, but by the time I’d followed
her there was a bit of dire rear by the back door. At least she’d tried to
get outside. As
I was up anyway I made toast and watched another episode of “Downton Abbey”
in which His Lordship tried to pork one of the maids, and Lady Sybil eloped
with the chauffer. It all happens in Downton Abbey, you know. Whilst I waited for “er indoors TM”
and the dogs to emerge from their pits I made a start on my latest Wherigo
project. Being a GPS based game there is a lot of latitude and longitude co ordinates involved, and it really doesn’t help that
geocaching uses one format (N 51° 08.135 E 000° 52.920) and Wherigo
uses another (51.1355388128128N 0.881931358029555E). Converting
between the two gives great scope for stuffing it all up. You have to wonder why they don’t use the same
format; after all it is the same company. I
put the bedding in to wash; for some inexplicable reason it was covered in
dog sick. Being
Saturday we drove round to dog club. As always the dogs soon realised where
they were going and got incredibly over-excited. The whole idea of dog club
is rather simple, but there is something rather good about standing in a
field whilst a couple of dozen small dogs charge around having a whale of a
time. With
dog club done we drove home listening to Steve on the radio. We couldn’t
listen in on the way there – the controls of the car music thingy don’t work
when it is cold. As we do on the way home from dog club we strained our
brains on the mystery year contest. I had no idea about any of the music
played; the only thing which gave me a hint was the fact that the last part
of the M20 opened in that year… which (for me) narrowed it down to the
mid to late eighties. However according to Wikipedia
it was 1991. With dogs worn out from dog club and “er indoors TM”
off on a mission of her own I drove down to Hastings and Dad’s house.
Together with brother and nephew we carried on sorting Mum and Dad’s house… I
say “sorting”; pretty much everything that we wanted we took out a few
months ago. Today we bagged up all the stuff that needs to go. It was sad,
but as I said to nephew if we didn’t ding it, his descendants would just be
dinging it in fifty years’ time when he goes. As we dinged we found a box of lion poo (It
really was lion poo) that an aunt had given Dad to sprinkle on the
garden. Apparently it keeps the cats away. We also found some investment
certificates with which Dad clearly hadn’t been impressed, and a box labelled
“double b*ll*cks”
which contained enormous fishing hooks from the days when he used to dabble
in fishing for skate which weighed as much as he did. Sorting
the house didn’t take long at all. I came home and popped up the corner shop
for a sandwich where some bloke (pissed as a fart) was kicking off
because he didn’t want to pay five pence for a carrier bag. I
then spent the afternoon on the sofa underneath a pile of dogs, periodically
opening the back door for poor Bailey who has got a rather impressive bout of
dire rear. I have told her many times not to eat dog poo, but will she
listen? “er indoors TM” boiled up a very good dinner which we scoffed whilst watching the
final of “Junior Bake Off” which wasn’t so much won by one of the
contestants as lost by another. We had a bottle of Malbec too. Hic… |
|
26 February
2023 (Sunday) - At the Vet's
I
woke with a definite sense of déjà vu this morning. “er indoors TM”
had brought the puppies up whilst I’d been asleep, and all three dogs were
pushed up against me giving me about nine inches along the edge of the bed. I
though the idea of a king-sized mattress was that I could have some room.
Clearly I was mistaken. Leaving
them all asleep I got up and made toast. I rolled my eyes as I read
Facebook’s feed this morning. Leaving aside dubious friend requests (from
God only knows what), over the last few weeks my Facebook feed had been
filled with videos of crocodiles. However this morning I had seemingly
nothing but adverts for cruise holidays. Each advert offered a bargain price
with a huge price reduction. Sadly the actual reduction itself was far more
than I would want to spend on a holiday in total. Having
got up to glorious sunshine I had this naïve idea that we might go out and do
some field trials of my current Wheri-project.
However in the three hours it took everyone else to get ready the weather had
gone off somewhat. By the time we got to the woods the sunshine had given way
to (at various times) rain, sleet and hail. As
we walked we kept an eye on Bailey. She hadn’t seemed on top form earlier but
we thought she’d rather come with us than be left behind. But the walk was a
bit much for her; a combination of long walks in the week and the bout of
dire rear had taken their toll. But whilst keeping an eye on Bailey we
managed to miss seeing Morgan rolling in the fox poo. However we didn’t miss
smelling it, and once home he had a serious scrub. Once
home I did the final tweaks to my Wheri-project as
Bailey lay next to me whimpering and crying. After a few minutes I decided
enough was enough and phoned the vets for an appointment for her. I
carried Bailey to the vets and we had to wait for a while – the only vet on
duty was busy with an emergency. After a little while I was asked if I would
be happy for the nurse to do a triage. I was very happy; as we walked into
the consulting room Bailey did the most rank fart ever. “Oooh”,
the veterinary nurse remarked. “That ain’t right”.
The nurse then mauled Bailey about and found weaknesses on her left legs, and
asked if I would mind if she carried Bailey through to where the emergency
was going on so the vet could have a look. As
I waited I suddenly heard the most blood-curdling scream. Five minutes later
the nurse came out and asked if I’d heard Bailey scream. The
final diagnosis was that she has two problems; a seriously strained front
left leg and shitting through the eye of a needle (stop me it I'm getting
too technical); both of which were aggravating each other. We
left the vet’s with more medicine than sense, a load of special dog food and
orders that Bailey isn't allowed any walks for the next week... I carried her
home. We came home to find “er indoors TM”
had got busy trying to sell the china cups and
saucers that I’d fetched back from Dad’s house yesterday. Mum and Dad loved a
proper cup and saucer, and I’d brought home the decent ones. Looking on eBay
they seem to be worth something, but the true judge of their value is what
they sell for, not what they are up for sale at. “er
indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner which we
scoffed whilst watching this evening’s episode of “Lego Masters: Australia”.
I do like that show, though I doubt I’d do very well on there. It
has been a rather good few days off work… back to the grind tomorrow. I’d
rather not, but I’d rather go where I’m going tomorrow than where I’ve been
in the past. |
|
27 February 2023
(Monday) - Stuff
Having
had a week of half-way decent sleep (on my week off), with an alarm
set last night I woke at ten past two, and then looked at the clock about
every twenty minutes from then on. I
eventually gave up trying to sleep and came downstairs to find Bailey had
made a great improvement overnight. Yesterday I was carrying her to the
garden; this morning she sprinted to the back door the very instant I opened
the pup crate. Mind you I made a point of carrying her upstairs to the big
bed; she wasn’t going to be allowed to run up the stairs. With
the dogs settled I made toast and settled down for my morning fix of “Downton
Abbey” in which the chauffeur got his drink spiked and made quite the
exhibition of himself in front of the dowager countess. I think the dowager
countess was rather impressed. I
set off to work. As I drove I listened to the radio, as I do. I know the
pundits on their boil my piss, but if I don’t listen to them I find myself
utterly unaware of everything that is going on in the world. Apparently
we’ve had the driest
February ever. There was an interview about it… with a farmer from East
Anglia whose usually swamp-like field are dry enough to drive cars and
tractors over. The interview could have been insightful and interesting;
instead it was like.. well, like, erm like… The poor woman must had used the
word “like” at least three times in every sentence. You’d think that
whoever oversees the morning’s radio would vet the people they have on there.
Wouldn’t you? There
was also a lot of talk about customs arrangements in Northern Ireland. The UK
is in the frankly ridiculous position of demanding that there both be a
border *and* not be a border between Northern and Southern Ireland.
Bearing in mind that everyone saw this coming during the Brexit squabbling,
it is really a tad late to only now realise that voting for Brexit was voting
for Irish reunification… whether the D.U.P. like it or not. I
got some petrol before work; I got it in Aylesford at eleven pence per litre
cheaper than Ashford was knocking it out at. And
then I went to Sainsbury’s to get cakes for work (as it was my birthday
last week). I got what I needed, and then had something of a fight with
the self-service checkout. It was playing up rather spectacularly, and when I
asked why the tills weren’t in use, the old bat (in Sainsbury’s uniform)
told me there was no need for Sainsburys to have staff on the tills. If
only there was another supermarket within striking distance of work… Work
was work; it would have been a tad easier had I not been wrestling with the
intricacies of the N blood group (did you know there was an N blood group?),
but it could have been worse. And with work worked I came home. “er
indoors TM” sorted scran then went bowling. I’ve suggested that
whilst she is out she might like to look for the northern lights. Apparently
they are visible this evening… but not from our house as it is too cloudy.
Not that I could have seen it from underneath the dogs… |
|
28 February 2023
(Tuesday) - Rather Dull
I
found myself in a rather reflective mood this morning as I watched “Downton
Abbey”. Lady Edith had been left standing at the altar after her
prospective husband thought better of tying the knot. Understandably she was
a tad miffed. I know the thing is just a made-up TV drama, but the
ridiculously rich can be miserable too. Was it wrong of me to think that her
being miserable was in some way payback for being rich? I
sparked up the lap-top and had a look at the Internet. It was still there. I
sent out birthday wishes… and thought of someone whose birthday it was today;
someone I’ve only seen once in the last forty-eight years. When I was at Red
Lake primary school, Vivienne Barr was in the same class as me every year for
the seven years that we were both there. Her birthday was exactly one week
after mine, and every year the teachers would remark on it as though it was
of major significance, and so it has stuck in my mind. I’ve seen her once
since we both left primary school, but every year I think of February 28th
as “Vivienne Barr’s Birthday”. I wonder whatever happened to her? I
think her father was something big in Sussex Police? I
was also presented with an advert for wellington boots. You can get them for
less than a tenner on Amazon, but the ones in the advert were branded with a
particular manufacturer of fishing gear, and the going rate for those
was twenty-five quid – and that was second-hand. Fishing gear is a serious
rip off. The stuff itself costs far too much, and whoever makes fishing gear
then sticks their logo onto clothing and mugs and tents and all sorts of
stuff, triples the price… and can’t keep up with the demand. With
very little else of note happening on-line I got ready for work. I’d rather
not have got ready for work. I know that no one is overly keen on the idea,
but when I started working full-time all those years ago it was on the firm
understanding that I would get a full pension on September 14th
2021. That’s eighteen months ago and what with the vagaries of politician’s
lies, a full pension is (sadly) years into the future. The
radio’s “Thought for the Day” was interesting… in a strange sort of
way. Some vicar or other was banging on about ex-US President Jimmy Carter
who this vicar claimed was the last actively Christian president. He also
banged on about Tim Farron who packed in being
leader of the Liberal Democraps because he felt his
religious views were an obstacle to his political career. This vicar seemed
to think that religious people made better national leaders as (so he
claimed) a religious outlook was synonymous with a moral perspective. This
attitude from the righteous winds me up. Can’t people lead moral lives
without the imposed fear of eternal damnation? And as for the success of
religious leaders, just look at what’s going on in the middle east. To
think that forty years ago I was seriously thinking of taking holy orders
myself… Today
was one of the dull days… |
