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1 November 2012
(Thursday) - Brabourne
I was rather late to bed last night. The
plan was that I would be getting home from work shortly after 10.30pm. When
about a mile from home my phone rang. Panic! Fudge had gone missing. So I
drove to where he had last been seen to join in the search. I could see the
torchlight looking for him, and I hollered his name. I could hear his collar
tags rattling and sure enough within seconds he appeared. "er indoors TM"
then appeared. She thought that the daft dog had somehow got trapped in a
nearby garden because she could hear what she thought was him in that general
direction. I had a different theory. The dog stank to high heaven. I think
he'd found something foul to roll in and had been rather pre-occupied with whatever
foul substance he'd been rolling in. By the time we'd eventually got home and
bathed him I finally got my tea shortly after 11pm, and eventually crawled
into my pit at half past midnight. I lay awake for much of the night listening
to the rain on the window. And wryly comparing it to was had been forecast. I
got up, brekkied, and "Daddies Little Angel
TM" soon arrived, as did Lisa. Despite the weather we set
off to Brabourne. We have noticed that organised
walks of geocaches are things which seem to be a long way away. There aren't
that many locally. Lisa had a plan to set up a series, I'd offered to help,
and "Daddies Little Angel TM"
came along for the walk. Today was the first sortie - working out a circular
route. We found a starting place, and started walking. After half a mile we
realised we'd taken a wrong turn. And then the rain started again. It was as well we'd got our waterproofs on.
It was damp and the mud was deep. But our spirits were high, and we pressed
on. Despite getting a poke off of the electric fence. Some of us pressed on
more than others: Sid gave up at one point, sat himself in the middle of a
ploughed field and refused to go any further. Fudge discovered the art of
clambering through hedges and got himself onto roads a couple of times; that
was worrying. Fudge also got himself onto a log floating in a pond which then
promptly sank under his weight. That was rather entertaining. But we achieved what we'd set out to do. A
route was found along which a series of caches can be hidden. And we even
slipped in a church micro for fun. After four hours we found ourselves back
where we'd started. We wrapped both dogs in towels and came home. "Daddies Little Angel TM"
treated her old Dad to KFC and after a quick bit of "Bottom"
on the DVD we went over some of her essays. A shame that two hours later we
managed to lose all of the work we'd done... |
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2 November 2012
(Friday) - Stuff
I had a really good day yesterday but by
the time the evening came I was feeling exhausted. I had the option of going
to Folkestone with friends in the evening but I knew I would wilt if I went.
So "er indoors TM"
set off and I stayed at home. I watched Aeon Flux; a film I'd put on to the
Sky Plus box a while ago. It was watchable but had quite a few plot holes.
For example how can someone who's only just escaped form the chokey suddenly be wielding
automatic firearms? I found myself nodding off at 9am, and so
decided that an early night would be a good idea. It turned out that I didn't
get quite the early night I had hoped for; I would have if little Fudge
hadn't kept barking. Ignoring his woofing was difficult, but he eventually
quietened and I was soon asleep. Perhaps I should have forced myself to stay
awake; I had an early night but then found myself wide awake at 2.30am. I
dozed fitfully on and off until 5.30am when I got up to find that Fudge had
disgraced himself on the kitchen floor. "er indoors TM" had
let him out last night when she'd come home, so he had no excuse really. I wonder what that poop was all about. I can only imagine it was a protest as he hadn't
wanted an early night last night. This morning was cold. As I drove to
Canterbury I saw that there was frost on the fields. I noticed berries on
holly yesterday - another sign of winter. Which reminds me
that I should shut the fish pond down for the winter. The news on the radio was alive with the
latest scandal about how last years' school exams had been marked. Apparently
these days a lot of the children's exam results depends
on the coursework that they do. As does the school's standing in league
tables, and even the teachers' jobs. And this coursework is assessed by these
very teachers working in these very schools. The allegation has been made that course
work is marked to generously by the teachers because it is in their interests
to do so. It may well have been marked too generously. It might not have
been. I don't know. But what twit devised a scheme with such a blatant
conflict of interests? As I drove home I heard that Freddie Starr
had been arrested, subsequently released, and then recalled by the police
following allegations of something that supposedly happened over twenty years
ago. If he's guilty of molesting small girls then he should face the wrath of
the law. If he's innocent then how is he supposed to remember details of an
innocent incident from two decades ago. How can justice be delivered from such a
long remove in time? Not that the public wants justice at the moment. With
the media having whipped up a mass hysteria over the entire Jimmy Saville debacle, what with Jim being safely dead the
public want a scapegoat. I wonder if Freddie has been set up to be just
that...? |
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3 November 2012
(Saturday) - Fireworks
A change to my normal routine this morning.
No shave. I've been persuaded to do "Mo-Vember"
with a couple of colleagues. I quite liked the mutton chops I grew a couple
of years ago. Last November wasn't really a good time for me, but this year I
quite fancy having another go. There's no denying that I quite like the morning
shave - I always shave, even when camping. I shall miss it, but in my new
mind-set of austerity I'm looking on it as another economy. I spent much of
the day conscious of the fact that I hadn't shaved. The itching will pass
after a few days. If any of my loyal readers would care to
support me in my efforts to raise money for research into prostate cancer please click here. Donations
have already started coming in. We then set off for a little outing. Fudge
needed a walk, and there were some geocaches in a nearby wood that weren't
going to look for themselves. We met up with Chris and The Hurks, and had a pleasant couple of hours wandering
about. We lost Fudge twice. Once he managed to get himself stuck in someone's
garden, and once he managed to hurt his foot. It was bleeding rather more
than I would like to have seen. I carried him for a bit, and then tried to
get him to walk. He wouldn't. I was worried. After a while he seemed to want
to get down, and immediately ran up to another dog to play. Then he saw a
squirrel, and it was as though there was never anything wrong with that foot. And then round to Sarah and Steve's for the
evening for the evening for fireworks. A wonderful time with lots of friends.
The time flew past too fast. We had a wonderful time, and despite coming up
the back passage to find that Steve was having problems with his sausage the
evening flew past too fast. I suspect that could have had something to do
with the success that was my attempt at banana beer (hic!) We came home to find that Fudge's limp had
got worse. I hope he's OK.... |
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4 November 2012
(Sunday) - Stowting
I had plans for
this morning. For some months I'd been thinking of being at Kings Wood at 8am
to go on a deer-watching session with the
tree huggers. But I woke to torrential rain. Having been out for
seriously long walks twice this week despite the rain I really couldn't face
it a third time. So we decided to stay in and sulk about the weather. I checked Facebook
over a spot of brekkie. I see my brother's doorbell
has lost its ding. I might get him a new one for Christmas. A ding, that is.
Not a doorbell. And then I did the ironing. I hadn't done any for a while, so
it took a little while to do. Fudge was still
limping a little this morning, and didn't eat his brekkie.
I was getting rather worried when "My Boy TM"
came to visit. Fudge promptly went mad, charged around the room as though
nothing was wrong with his foot, devoured his brekkie,
and was promptly sick. With the ironing
done Chris arrived. We drove round to Cressfield
for a quick spot of geocache maintenance (one of mine was leaking),
collected Lisa and drove out to Stowting for a
walk. The dreadful weather of the morning had given way to a bright
afternoon. Fudge seemed to
enjoy the walk - his limp seemed to have gone. We walked for a few hours
round the lanes following a series of Hallowe'en themed
geocaches. Very well done - and with only nine caches in the series the walk
took less than two hours. We then went on to Sellindge
and Smeeth for a stroll (and four more caches).
There was a dodgy five minutes when "er
indoors TM" reversed her car into a large rock. The sound
did make me feel rather sick. But on finding that very little actual damage
appeared to have been done we carried on until falling temperatures and
failing light meant it was home time. There's something
vaguely depressing about it being dark by half past five. Whilst we were out
my mobile rang. "Daddies Little
Angel TM" and the Rear Admiral (patent pending)
had been for a walk at Folkestone Coastal Park and had come back to their car
to find a parking ticket. That's thirty five quid that no one has these days.
They'd parked in the same place that they park every Sunday. There were
hardly any other cars around, and the ticket was timed two minutes after
they'd parked. The wardens had been laying in wait
for them. I've suggested they write to the council and ask where the notices
about parking restrictions are, as there certainly weren't any that they
could see. Whilst I must admit
I did gloat somewhat at their misfortunes (that's why there are other
people in this world) I can't say I'm happy with this state of affairs.
There seems to be a growth industry in ticketing cars which aren't actually
doing any harm to anyone. In the meantime cars are parked near my house
seriously obstructing the flow of traffic for hours and they go unpunished. In a novel break
with tradition "er indoors TM"
didn't go bowling this evening. Instead we had a glass of sherry, a rather
good bit of tea, and we watched some telly. Tonight was the last episode in
the current series of "Downton Abbey".
I do like that show. Can't wait for the Christmas special. And in closing
today, don't forget to spread the word. Click here and feel free to
spread the word. Post the link to your family and friends. Ask them to
sponsor my face. I can remember that last time it itched a lot more than it
does at the moment... |
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5 November 2012
(Monday) - Stuff
Today was a rather cold and dark morning.
Even Fudge seemed lethargic. I spent much of the day feeling vaguely down for
no adequately explored reason. However on the plus side the rain had stopped.
Thank heavens for small mercies. The news wound me up as I drove to work;
much as it does every morning. The other day I ranted about the farce that is
democracy. Nowhere is that farce more evident than in the upcoming American
presidential election. The news was mentioning precious little else other
than that ongoing battle. The American presidency
is probably the most powerful elected position on the planet, and the vast majority
of humanity don't actually get a say in that
election. And there isn't really much choice for
those who do get a vote. Two candidates are chosen by various alliances of
big businesses (who are the only people who have the money to pay for
presidential election campaigns) and the electorate gets to either select the
candidate they think will do the better job, or (which is probably what
really happens) vote against the one that they think will make a bigger hash
of it. Does anyone get to choose the candidate
they actually want? Of course not! How can this be considered
"democratic"? In other news (less designed to boil my
piss) I see our old friend science has had another look at the Fermi
paradox, and is coming up for another reason why there aren't any aliens. The
Fermi paradox is something I've lectured about in the past. The basic premise
is that given the vast scale of the universe, and the (probably) extreme
likelihood of life evolving elsewhere, there should be aliens all over the
place. However demonstrably there isn't. Science now conjectures that for any solar
system to come up with life, it needs to have an
asteroid belt. Asteroid belts would seem to be something of a scarcity in
outer space; hence no aliens. One lives and learns. Personally I suspect that
it will only be a matter of time until asteroid belts are found to be
ten-a-penny. What will science say then? Talking of aliens, it would seem that
flying-saucer-crackpot-ism is
on the decline. Fewer people are reporting seeing UFOs, and crackpot UFO
research groups are closing down due to lack of interest. Apparently with the
immediate availability of expert advice over the internet, mis-sightings of Chinese lanterns, weather balloons,
geese, military aircraft and Martians are being explained away before any
crackpot stories can be attached to them. The Association for the Scientific
Study of Anomalous Phenomena has called a crisis meeting to address the
decline in UFO sightings. They see it as a bad thing. But then their
president once claimed that King Arthur was an alien. One cannot help but
wonder what opposition he faced when he was elected. Mind you, personally I see the decline in
UFO-ism as a bad thing. The world is a better place for having harmless nutters running about the place blaming it all on aliens. And so home to find Fudge waiting for me.
He was asleep. For a dog that is always bouncing about whenever anyone else
is looking, he does seem to sleep a lot when he gets the chance. I was toying
with the idea of a walk, but it was late. We'll get a walk in the morning I
expect. Meanwhile my face fungus goes from strength
to strength. It's almost ready to be pruned into shape. Yesterday I mentioned
it wasn't itching. It's beginning to itch a little now. Which is even more
reason to get sponsoring.
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6 November 2012
(Tuesday) - Golf
I slept surprisingly well last night, nor
waking in the night, and staying in my pit until
gone 8am. That very rarely happens. The face fur was really itching this
morning. It was around the neck which itched the
most, so I got pruning. I'm not sure it's a good idea, but the shape of the
mutton chops is now there; it just needs to grow some more. Which my loyal
readers could help with if they were to get sponsoring the thing. I put some laundry into the washing machine
and took Fudge for a little walk. Through the park to have a third go for a
geocache I failed to find twice previously. I found it this time. And then on
to another cache on the other side of the town. Whilst it passed an hour or
so, solo caching was rather lonely. In retrospect most of the hobbies I seem to
take up are taken up for the social aspect far more than for the hobby
itself. Whilst out my mobile rang. An employment
agency with a possible job opening. I am trying not to get my hopes up, but
it would be exactly the job I want to do. Home, where I ironed some shirts and sorted
my undercrcakers. Never a dull moment. And with undercrackers sorted I went round to collect "My
Boy TM" and we went to the driving range for an hour's
whacking golf balls about. I can hit a golf ball maybe a quarter of the
distance that "My Boy TM" can clout them, but
today was only my third attempt. Actually making contact with the ball takes
some doing. But I shall get there eventually. Being Tuesday the clans gathered. After
listening to the AHBS show we watched "Merlin".
The show hs promise, but there is a definite theme
to the program. I cannot help but wonder which of the leading characters will
be taken ill next week... |
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7 November 2012
(Wednesday) - This n That
I set off to work
with a heavy heart this morning. It didn't help that I had a slight twinge in
my back - I blame yesterday's session at the driving range for that. Mind you
I expect it was more to do with a twinge of jealousy about those of my loyal
readers who at the same time were on their way to a kite festival in the
Canary Islands. I've sent a little geocaching trackable
with them, but there's no denying that I'd rather be going with them myself. Mind you, they have
all arrived safely. Contact has been made. It will be warm in Grand Canaria. It was cold in Kent this morning. Doubly cold as
I appear to have misplaced my astro club woolly
hat. I'm sure it's somewhere safe, but that is no use when my head is chilly
and I need the thing. I have loads of woolly hats which are all over the
place in the summer, and are all missing in the winter. I wish I knew where
they all went. As I drove to work
this morning the news was of the American elections. President Obama has been
re-elected. I am sure that on a global scale this is of major importance, but
in my rather insular frame of mind I cannot help but wonder what difference
it will make to me. The radio was broadcasting his acceptance speech. How can
anyone speak for so long without actually saying anything? In the national
news there are now calls for a seriously major review of British society to
look into the child protection failures by which the likes of Jimmy Saville (allegedly) got to have his wicked way with small
children. The chap on the radio was calling for a serious over-reaching
inquiry encompassing everything which ever happened in the UK over the last
thirty years. Whilst a lot happened that was wrong, a lot happened because
that was the society in which we lived at the time. "Groupies" were
a common phenomenon - morally wrong, but they were a sign of those times. We
can learn from the mistakes of the past, but can we go back and sort them
out? Hardly! If we could I would
seriously like to know how. I have one or two boo-boos of my own I'd like to
go back and put right. I did learn that it
is currently British Sausage Week. -
part of which is the pledge to give more thought to
pork, and the pork promise. Both of which (I suspect) will turn out to be
disappointments. More importantly
locally is the fact that the National Trust is buying up a large stretch of
the White Cliffs. The bit they are taking on goes from the port at Dover
round to the South Foreland lighthouse. It's a stretch of coastline that I
walked earlier this year. April 1st as I recall. No one believed that I
actually did see a small whirlwind that day. I can remember the outing
vividly, if only for the fact that grand-dog Sid was eating horse poo as we
went, and the most recent fruit of my loin went mental when she found out. I'm hoping that the
National Trust buying up the land will be a good thing. However I suspect one
of the first things they will do will be to close off the tunnels along that
stretch of coastline. Closing them would be a shame - they should make a
feature of them - a tourist attraction even. And Clive Dunn died
today. He was ninety-two. I think it fair to say that most people thought he
died years ago. The mutton chops
are now in shape. However despite many pledges the total actually fundraised
so far leaves a lot to be desired. Please click here and give whatever
you can spare. I read yesterday that most moustaches don't survive past the
second week. I need a good reason to carry on looking silly (or sillier
than usual). |
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8 November 2012
(Thursday) - Democracy, Space....
A relatively late start today being on a
late shift. I came down and set the washing machine to do a spin cycle and it
set itself off on a wash cycle. I checked what I'd done and it wasn't
operator error. I do hope that machine isn't on the blink. I don't need that.
Thank heavens for service plans. I then spent a few moments sitting on the
sofa with Fudge sprawled across me. The silly pup made himself
comfortable and dozed off. It seemed a shame to wake him really. For someone
who doesn't in any way claim to be a dog-lover, I've become quite attached to
that little dog. Which is why I never wanted a dog in the
first place... And so to work. I like the early starts -
it means I get to miss the rush hour. However the late start has me facing
busier roads than I usually do. In reality not that busy, but certainly more
traffic than I've got used to seeing. I stopped off at the farm shop for an
apple whilst I was on the way - they are closed when I go past on the early
start. Their fruit's cheap, but some of the other stuff they do (like the
cakes and cheeses) go for silly money. But they seem to keep knocking them
out to the punters. I expect there are those who like paying over the odds.
In retrospect I suppose that I used to do that. Still, I don't want cake and
cheese any more -there are calories in those. The other day I ranted about the farce that
we call "democracy". The radio had more on the subject
today. A week or so I ranted about the upcoming elections for the role of
police commissioners, and how the idea wasn't anywhere near as democratic as
it claimed to be. This morning's radio programme proved my point entirely. It
featured an interview with a candidate for one of the police commissioner
roles that are soon to be up for grabs. This lady was standing as an
independent candidate. Independent of any political party; and she was
griping about how unfair it was that candidates of political parties had the
political parties to help them. Financially as well as practically.
Apparently this woman had shelled out seventy two thousand pounds of her own
cash on election costs so far. I would like to have half that amount to
squander on something so irrelevant to my daily life. Another of the pundits
being interviewed admitted that funding such an election campaign was
expensive, and he said that he felt that (somehow) the costs of such
campaigns should be capped in such a way that they did not exceed one hundred
thousand pounds (!) How can democracy claim to give the people
a voice when the average bloke in the street can't afford to stand, and is
dependent on someone else to foot the bill. And how can politicians claim to
be impartial and independent when they are so clearly beholden to their
backers? Mind you, as usual important news doesn't
get mentioned. The first potentially habitable super-Earth planet has
been discovered. And it's only forty two light years away. I say "only"
- it's considerably further than the nearest chip shop and is certainly
beyond the reach of any current technology. However at the rate that this
planet is getting stuffed up it's useful to know that such places exist.
Humanity needs a fall-back option. All we need now is the technology to get
there. I'm sure it can be done if only we were to try hard enough. Which reminds me that I once wrote a short story on this very
subject. I wonder how long it will be until the copyright on that yarn
reverts back to me? And there's no denying that I had a sly
snigger at
this article about windy Uranus ! The sponsorship for my chops has doubled,
for which I am grateful. If any of my loyal readers would like to give a bit,
there is still time. As always, please click here and give
whatever you can spare. In three weeks I can shave the thing off.
Those three weeks can't go quick enough... |
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9 November 2012
(Friday) - Beauty and the Beast
In a novel break
with tradition "er indoors TM"
was off work on one of my rostered days off. Last
night we made plans, and decided to go for an early morning swim. I got up,
pruned the beard, brekkied, and found she was still
fast asleep. So much for swimming. Instead I brought forward phase two of the
days plan. and went to Wilkos
to get the makings of Christmas ale. My own is now on the go, and I have two
other loads to get ready over the next couple of weeks. In retrospect I
should have taken orders for job lots of Christmas ales; but I've left that
too late. Maybe next year. We gathered those
of the clans who were available today, and set off on a day's outing. Driving
and walking. Stopping off on the way; doing some hiking, enjoying the views.
A lovely day for a spot of geocaching through Ruckinge
and Bilsington. As time goes on more people have
found more caches. Of the twenty-odd that we went to today there was only one
that was new to all four of us. Mind you, I like re-visiting caches with
people who've yet to do them. There is something about the sense of smugness
that comes from watching others trying to find what you've already
discovered. And for all that we did go to quite a few caches I'd not
previously done, I increased my total of caches found by thirteen. It was a really
good day to be out with friends; just a shame it was so cold. Home for a quick
cuppa and a change of clothing and soon Steve and Sarah arrived. We set off
to Maidstone for a spot of tea in the Muggeton Arms
(which apparently is not a Wetherspoons). As
we scoffed so the rest of our number arrived. Once everyone was together all
eleven of us made our way to the Hazlitt theatre. The Stage Theatre
Society were putting on a show. We'd seen their
previous productions and they were very good. "Beauty and the Beast"
was every bit as good as we'd hoped. And during the interval both Beauty and
Beast posed for photos. Much as I enjoyed
the show, there's no denying that I spent quite a bit of time watching the
wonder on the faces of the littluns of our party. In closing I'll
bang the drum again - please
click here and give whatever you can spare to sponsor my face. And if you
are a tax payer you can give more for free by clicking the gift aid option.
Or so I am reliably informed.. |
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10 November 2012
(Saturday) - Rye Bonfire Parade
With nothing major planned for the daylight
hours we had a bit of a lie-in this morning. Whilst the lazing in bed is OK,
for me it does come with a feeling of precious time being wasted. So we got
up shortly after 9am to find heavy rain outside, and so wasted the morning in
other ways. Browsing Facebook over brekkie saw off
half an hour, as did doing a couple of on-line surveys. I then went round to B&Q. Fudge does
like his toys, but is destructive with them.. And
dog toys aren't cheap. So I had this stroke of genius that I might get a
length of rope from B&Q and plait it. Fudge could then have a cheap toy.
I got a metre of rope for ninety-eight pence and plated it. Fudge seemed
happy with the makeshift toy and set about it with a vengeance. It was
un-plated within five minutes and in several pieces in less than half an
hour. Mind you I stand by the initial brainwave.
It's a good idea in theory. If any of my loyal readers have any odd bits of
rope laying about (the thicker the better)
please send them in our general direction. With the rain showing no sign of letting up
I wandered up to the post office's collection depot.
I had a parcel that needed to be picked up. I got there top find the biggest
queue there that I have ever seen. People were queueing
out of the office back almost onto the street. And in a novel break with
their usual practice they were insisting on seeing I.D.
before handing over the parcels. Whilst this is a good thing in theory, in
practice I would question just how valid a Tesco clubcard
can be as a form of identification. But, like everyone else in the queue, I
vaguely waved a Tesco clubcard in the air and got
my parcel. It was a charger and two spare batteries for my mobile phone. That
will save me the trouble of having to lug my telescope's power pack about the
next time I want to use the GPS on my phone for more than a couple of hours. A spot of lunch,
and with no sign of the weather improving we put on coats and took Furry Face
for a walk. He needed to get out, and so did I. We went on a "round
the block" walk for a couple of hours; obviously calling in at a few
geocaches along the way. Once home "er
indoors TM" went for petrol, and I spent half an hour
with a smelly wet dog fast asleep on my chest. Friends soon arrived, and two carfuls drove round to the abode of "the man with
no alias (patent pending)" where we picked up three more carfuls of friends. We then went in convoy to Rye where
we eventually managed to park and met up with even more friends. With over
twenty-five people assembled we had chips and then cheered as the bonfire
procession came past. It was a shame that the Cliffe
bonfire group were missing certain friends; their absence was noted by
several people. With the procession gone past us we made
our way down to the bonfire area. Not as easy as it sounds. There were
serious crowds to get through, and keeping twenty-odd people together was
somewhat akin to herding cats. But with a little help from my scrolling LED
app we eventually got everyone together. "er indoors TM"
cracked open the mulled wine (very tasty) and we watched the bonfire
and fireworks. This year's Rye bonfire parade was great.
The procession seemed shorter than usual; the town seemed more crowded that usual. The fireworks were as good as any I remember
from the past. A great evening with friends. As always there are photos of
the event if you know where
to look. It's only a shame that this year's
bonfire's season is now over... |
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11 November 2012
(Sunday) - The Otham Ramble
I had my orders last night. "My Boy
TM" had instructed me to get his various foul fishing
baits out of the freezer and put them in the bath to defrost so he could
collect the quietly this morning at 7.30am. I love the first fruit of my loin
dearly, and will not hear a word said against him. But there is no denying
that "quietly" is not one of his more developed skills. Sure enough he came home with the full
force of an atom bomb at 7.45am. I'm sure my loyal readers in America and the
Far East heard him. We got up, dressed, had brekkie,
and got ready for the off. Fudge was getting over-excited as he does when he
knows we are going out. And then (for Fudge) it all went terribly
wrong. On the last few walks we've done Fudge has
got very wet. And very cold. By the time we got back to the car on our last
half-dozen walks he's been shivering. So yesterday we bought him a coat. I
thought it was a nice coat. Fudge didn't. It was clear that he hated it. He
stopped jumping about. All the excitement left him. Normally at walkies time he bolts to the door. This time he looked at
the open door with disdain, and wasn't interested in going out. He had to be
dragged. And once in the car, rather than being his
usual excitable self, he sat on my lap pretty much motionless. If ever a dog
exuded an aura of sulkiness Fudge certainly did this morning. Rather than
greeting the rest of our group with mad-keen enthusiasm (as would be usual)
he looked up, then went back to his sulk. We made our way to Otham
and having parked the car we set off on a little stroll. The Otham Ramble is a guided walk of twenty geocaches along a
seven mile circular route. Fields and bridges, footpaths and woods, lanes and
roads. It exemplifies what I like about geocaching; it's a guided walk around
some beautiful countryside where I would never have gone. We had a wonderful
time on a bright November day. It was a bit damp underfoot; positively swampy
in places, but it was a good day to be out. We saw hot air balloons and
biplanes. As the day went on the temperatures rose, and we even took Fudge's
coat off. He liked that, and promptly set off in pursuit of a fox he'd seen. As well as the seven mile ramble we took a
little detour to fit in a Church micro. We stopped off at the seventh cache
on the route for lunch. For all that we are in mid-November it was a glorious
day. So much so that as I sat in front of the telly in the evening my face
was glowing: I caught the sun. If any of my loyal readers are wondering
about this whole geocaching lark, or just want a walk with some rather
spectacular scenery, the Otham Ramble would be the
ideal thing. And, as always, there are photos
of the outing on-line. |
|
12 November 2012
(Monday) - Another Day's Geocaching
A week or so ago I went on a stroll round Brabourne helping to work out a circular route for a
series of geocaches to be laid. Last night I got notification that the series
was in place and was ready to be found. For all that I'd helped with the route, I had no idea on what the hides would be, so doing
this series could not be seen as cheating in any way. I posted on one of the geocaching groups
asking if anyone wanted to come with me and Steve to try to find these
caches. There's no denying that my piss boiled with many of the responses.
Perhaps people mis-read what I'd said. If I wanted
to know who couldn't come, I would have asked who couldn't come. What I asked
was who *could* come with us. A subtle difference. In the end there was only one taker to come
with me and Steve. But I was glad to have made the offer, and was glad to
have made a new friend. Sid drove down from Thanet and met us in Brabourne. It must have been quite disconcerting for him
to be faced with meeting me and Steve (and dogs) for the first time.
But it's more fun to go on a walk in the countryside with company than on
your own. And we had a great time. The weather was good, the caches were varied,
the company good and the scenery beautiful. Bearing in mind that the caches went live
last night there was the possibility to have been "first to find"
on some of them. Or so we thought. There is a chap locally who delights in
being the first to find any geocache, and as we went round and read the logs
we saw that he'd beaten us to all of the caches; having been out in the
deepest parts of the countryside shortly after midnight. Others, including
"er indoors TM"
and the Hose Beast, had also been along after dark. Personally I don't like night caching. You
can't see what you are doing, you look very suspicious, and you can't be sure
that you've hidden the caches properly afterwards. We found some that hadn't
been re-hidden at all well. One in particular was in plain view on the
roadside. Being in daylight we made sure that we re-hid everything properly
as we went. Having read the logs it would seem that no
one else had actually done the series of caches (what I would call)
properly. There are many ways to play the geocaching game. There is no right
or wrong. But, for me, I feel that if a series of caches has been laid out
then you should start at one end and work to the other following the route
laid out for you. We were the first to start at the beginning and to them all
in sequence. I think we can feel suitably smug about that. Steve had brought Sasha - his German
Shepherd dog - on the walk today. It was interesting watching Fudge's
behaviour around another dog. I have always said I would trust him with small
children but not with other dogs, and I think I would stand by that. The two
dogs were mostly fine, and when off the leads would play nicely. However
Sasha would get rather fractious when crossing stiles or bridges and would
whine. And that whining would make Fudge snap at her. The morning passed off
mostly without dog-incident; but it came close a couple of times. At one point Steve walked both dogs
together, and I think that improved Fudge's demeanour a lot. The series of caches had been billed as a
four hour walk; and that was what it took. But all too soon the walk was
over. As luck would have it we got back to the cars just as the rain was
starting to fall. We said goodbye to Sid (who had to go to work later)
and went back to Ham Street for lunch. Fudge helped himself to Steve's dogs'
lunches and picked a couple of fights. And then we drove across the Romney Marsh
clearing a few more geocaches off of the "to-do list". It
would have been nice to have done more caching, but by 4pm it was getting noticeably
darker and the rain had got so heavy that Fudge was soaked. And as a
consequence of Fudge being soaked so was I. So we came home where I showered
the fox poo off of Fudge. He does love rolling in that stuff. Fudge then spent the rest of the afternoon
and evening snoring. Lacey has told me off in that
past because she feels I walk Fudge too much. Perhaps I did today - he was
shattered. He slept on my lap whilst I watched some of the stuff I've been
recording onto the SkyPlus box over the last few
weeks... |
|
13 November 2012
(Tuesday) - Poorly Pup
Fudge slept a lot yesterday evening. When I
get up most mornings the sound of me coming downstairs wakes him and he looks
up so see me and greets me with a wag of his tail. This morning he carried on
snoring as I walked through the kitchen. that was
not like him. He was still asleep after I finished my morning ablutions and
was eventually woken by the sounds of me generally clattering about the
kitchen. He got up, pootled a bit, and then was
sick. Twice. I've been worrying all day about that little dog. I suspect that
he probably ate something yesterday that disagreed with him. Probably fox, sheep, cow or horse poo. To work where I did my bit, and then home
via the Chrisery where we watched another episode
of "Merlin", which is surprisingly good. Kenneth Cranham guest starred in tonight's episode, and we had an
entertaining ten minutes trying to work out how many films in which he
starred as a character without a full quota of limbs. And so home, to find Fudge hadn't eaten at
all. He even turned his nose up at yoghurt, which is quite unlike him. If
things don't improve soon there will be a trip to the vets for that little
dog. Here's
something to make you think. I've always maintained tha
the average man in the street is a bit of a thickie,
but now science would agree with me. It would seem that intelligence was
developed as an evolutionary necessity to deal with the rigours of a hostile
world. But now with modern society things are somewhat easier than they were
when we had to out-smart sabre-toothed tigers. The theory is that humanity
reached its intellectual peak some four thousand years ago. Which probably explains why I think that rummaging in the
undergrowth looking for tupperware containers is a
good thing. The sponsorship for my chops is moving on
apace, for which I am grateful. If any of my loyal readers would like to give
a bit, there is still time. As always, http://uk.movember.com/mospace/184961
and give whatever you can spare. In just over two weeks I can shave the
thing off. Those three weeks can't go quick enough... |
|
14 November 2012
(Wednesday) - Walkies
In my life hobbies and crazes come and go.
At the moment hunting for tupperware is all the
rage. A year ago I was mad-keen on dieting. In retrospect being focussed on
dieting had made me far more aware of what I stuff down my neck. I no longer
religiously document every single thing that I eat, but I am far more
sensible about what I eat. And I weigh myself regularly as well. This morning
I found I'd lost another pound since the last weigh-in. Possibly due to the
amount of walks that Fudge has been getting lately. Talking of which he did seem a little
better this morning. We'd left his tea down overnight in case he got hungry,
and he'd eaten some of it. Not much, but some. The front door bammed
open - "Daddies Little Angel TM"
and Sid had come to visit. I'd not seen her since I started growing the face
fungus. She wasn't impressed, for all that I've been told that the new look
suits me. She sorted out Sid's breekkie
- watching Sid eat his breakfast encouraged Fudge to eat some, and then we
took both dogs for a walk. Through Viccy Park,
round by Singleton Lake, through Great Chart, up to the Environment Centre,
and then home. It was a good bright day, and we were out for a couple off hours. Both dogs seemed to like the outing, and played
together very well. We came home, and I spent a little while
tidying the garden. It's rather a sorry sight at the moment. And then it was
lunch time. Only toast, but I was able to feed the crusts to Fudge. Normally
I don't feed him my food, but it was good to see him eating. "Daddies
Little Angel TM" then set off for an hour to see her
mates, so I did some dull chores. In between chores I had a little look on
Facebook. An interesting development in one of the geocaching groups. In the
past I've blogged about the need for kite fliers to have public liability
insurance. It would seem that geocachers need such
insurance too. Folkestone council have refused permission for geocaches to be
hidden on their land unless the cache owner had public liability insurance. If anyone hurts themselves looking for a
cache that I've hidden am I liable? Should I add disclaimers to all of the
caches that I've hidden? If nothing else, this is a sad sign of our times. As "er
indoors TM" went out for the evening I settled in front
of the telly to catch up with stuff I'd put onto he SkyPlus
box, and Fudge was promptly sick again... The sponsorship for my chops is moving on
apace, for which I am grateful. If any of my loyal readers would like to give
a bit, there is still time. As always you might like to click here,
and give whatever you can spare. In just over two weeks I can shave the
thing off. Those three weeks can't go quick enough... |
|
15 November 2012
(Thursday) - Dull
Yesterday was
bright and sunny. Today was dull and foggy. Over the last week or so I've
done so much; walks with friends, been to places I've never seen before,
watched new TV shows with some of the best people I've ever met, time with my
daughter, time with my dog. Today was dull. I was planning to
have gone to a party this evening; my nephew is eighteen years old today.
There was a surprise party planned for him. I had hoped to get along, but the
intricacies of swapping my shifts made it rather impractical. Which was a shame. With "er indoors TM" off to the
gathering I had resigned myself to coming home to an empty house. But I came
home from work to find my dog waiting for me. He was chomping on a chew stick
when I came home which was a good thing. Once we'd had a little fussing he
then ate some of his tea, and once I'd had my tea he helped my finish my
yoghurt; something he'd not shown any interest in for the last two days. He
then sat on my lap and we both slept through a film the description of which
was a lot more interesting than the reality. I had something of
a shock with my chops today - some colleagues didn't understand the whole Mo-Vember thing and thought I was growing it seriously. They
have now said they will sponsor it. If any of my loyal readers would like to
give a bit, there is still time. As always, please click here and give
whatever you can spare. In two weeks and
one day I can shave the thing off. The time can't go quick enough... |
|
16 November 2012
(Friday) - Busy
My phone rang at 7am this morning. Usually i would have been out of bed a couple of hours before
then, but today I wasn't. It was my brother. He's splitting up with his
girlfriend of the last ten (or more) years. A great shame - I just
wish there was something I could say or do to make it all better. But of
course there isn't. "My Boy TM"
came to visit and told of a funeral he is attending next week for a friend
who committed suicide. I was feeling profoundly depressed when I took Fudge
for a walk. With nothing much on the agenda for this
morning I took Fudge for a little walk. Past the International station, up
past the rugby club, Simone Weil Avenue to the Cows roundabout and home via
Chart Road, Viccy Park and Bowensfield.
A pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. Once home, over a spot of lunch I
watched the docu-drama I'd recorded from UK Gold
about the early days of Morcambe and Wise. I quite
liked it. I then got busy in the kitchen. The five
gallons of stout I'd started fermenting last week needed putting into a barrel, and five more gallons of best bitter needed
kicking off. Whilst beer went from bucket to barrel and from ingredients to
bucket I got laundry done as well. I was quite busy for a few hours. With chores done I had planned to iron
shirts. But I sat down for five minutes and with Fudge having fallen asleep
on my lap I didn't have the heart to move him. So I watched the last episode
of "The Stand" which I'd recorded from the Horror Channel. A
televisation of the Stephen King book - it didn't
work. It was rather like the Harry Potter films in that you needed to have
read the book to understand what was happening in the program. And now having
seen the last episode I realise that I have wasted eight hours of my life. There was talk of going to Folkestone this
evening, but what with "er indoors TM"
not finishing at work until late we would have been setting off to Folkestone
about the sort of time we should really have been coming home. So we knocked
that idea on the head. Which was a shame. Whilst
waiting for her to come home I watched Star Trek on the SyFy
channel. Before the program started there was a warning that the program
dealt with adult themes and emotions. What was that all about? And with "er
indoors TM" home we had fish n chips (oh yes!) and
watched telly. All the time conscious that I am working all weekend... |
|
17 November 2012
(Saturday) - Dull
Whenever the topic
comes up in conversation I always say that I don't mind working at weekends.
However it is easy to say that. I got up this morning with a heavy heart
knowing that everyone else would be up and about and up to mischief whilst I
was not. And I certainly sulked whenever I got texts about what I was missing
throughout the day. Mind you I had a sly smile at 2pm when the storm came
over less than two minutes after I'd received a text message telling me that
the picnic lunch I was missing had just started. As I drove to work I felt vindicated when I heard the news. Regular readers
of this drivel may recall how in the past few weeks I've ranted about the
farcical elections for the posts of police commissioners. It came as
something of a surprise for me to realise that I actually missed the vote,
which took place last Thursday. Had I remembered would I have voted? Somehow
I doubt it. We only had any information through on one of the candidates, and
I couldn't bring myself to vote for him on principle. Knowing nothing about
the other candidates meant that had I voted it would have been sheer
guesswork. I suppose I might have spoiled the ballot paper as a political
statement, if could I have been bothered. But I couldn't. And nor could
eighty five per cent of the electorate, according to the official figures.
There's apparently going to be a formal review into why the turn-out for this
election was so low; the lowest of any election in history. The sad thing about
all of this which really boils my piss is that there is to be a formal review
into the bleeding obvious, whilst something which is patently wrong (someone
takes office with only the support of seven per cent of the electorate) is
allowed to pass unchallenged. I would suggest
that all of my loyal readers click here and
have a look at this e-petition. The plan is to give the electorate the option
to say "none of the above" in elections. Given the scenario that half the voting
electorate gives the standing candidates the thumbs-down, these candidates
are automatically disbarred. The election (whatever it is for) would
then be re-run with a new gaggle of candidates. This has the
advantage that the electorate can say no to candidates they don't want. But
it doesn't actually do anything to ensure that the electorate get better
candidates. I suspect the petition hasn't got a hope as it will certainly
give standing politicians something to worry about. And here's something
which made me think. A devout Christian (alarm bells ring!) has
won his court battle. He got demoted from a position in a local housing trust
because of his views against gay marriage. He's now shown in court that his
dismissal was unfair. Something of a pyrrhic victory as the legal costs have
left him all but bankrupt But he has proved his right to say what he thinks.
Regardless of how wrong he might actually be. Personally I think
that gay people should be able to get married if they want to. Let me qualify
that... as a civil ceremony - yes. Not as a Christian ceremony - becuse the Christian teachings are quite firm on the
point. I don't join a snooker club and insist they play darts. I don't join a
political party and insist they all go pot-holing. It's the same with a
religion. If you take it up, you go with what the religion teaches. You don't
pick and choose what parts of the faith you want and ignore the rest. Or if
you do, that's fine but you don't then apply the name of that religion to
yourself. This Christian
bloke explained his position by saying "I don’t understand why people
who have no faith and don’t believe in Christ would want to get hitched in
church. The Bible is quite specific that marriage is for men and women. If
the State wants to offer civil marriages to the same sex then that is up to
the State; it shouldn’t impose its rules on places of faith and conscience."
I think he might have a point there. Why would anyone want to get married in
a church knowing full well that the teachings on which that church is based
say that what they are doing is fundamentally wrong? As I came home this
evening I looked to the sky. Originally I wasn't expecting to be working this
weekend, and so had organised for the astro club to
have a bit of a telescope session tonight. If for no better reason that the
Leonid meteor shower is supposed to reach its maximum tonight. As always
whenever anything astronomical happens there is complete cloud cover.
Astronomy really sucks sometimes.. |
|
18 November 2012
(Sunday) - More Dull
Up far earlier than
I would normally be on a Sunday. Over a spot of brekkie
I checked out what was going on in the World Wide Wubbish.
One of the Facebook groups to which I subscribe had some worrying news.
Worrying, but realistically a sad sign of the times. The Queens Head pub in
Rye has closed down. In more affluent times I would go to Rye for something
of a pub crawl a few times every year. There are some good pubs in Rye. Or
that is there used to be some good pubs in Rye. The Queens Head was one such
- the only place in which I've ever seen a FILO beer on the hand pump outside
of the FILO itself. And now the Queens Head has closed for the last time.
Last week at Rye bonfire parade I saw that another old favourite, The Union
Inn, had shut down as well. It's all rather sad really. But, as I've said
before, in this new world order of austerity when I can brew five gallons of
half-decent ale at home for the price of half a gallon in the pub I'm not
going to give them my money. A few years ago I was quite the connoisseur of
local pubs. A few years ago I was over five stone heavier... Having fussed
Fudge, ignored the washing up, and done my early morning fiddling about I set
off to work. After ten minutes I turned the car round and came back for my
packed lunch. Woops! As I drove I
listened to the morning's church service on the radio. Whilst on the way to
work one Sunday earlier in the year I heard one such service which I found to
be quite spiritual and uplifting. However since then whenever I've listened
to the Sunday service I've found them to be something of a disappointment in
comparison. This morning's service was one of the better ones, and was quite
interesting. It was celebrating (if that is the right word) national prisons week It was
interesting that this service was aired immediately after a news item about
whether or not prisoners should have the vote. The Prime Minister has taken
the line of "over his dead body". Which is rather
confrontational. And in making that
statement he conforms to the stereotype attitude so prevalent these days. It
always amazes me that prisons and prisoners are something about which
everyone has very strong opinions, but (generally) very little experience.
It's common knowledge how sort life is in prison. Or that is it's common knowledge to those who don't actually know
anything. With two good friends of mine having been sentenced to prison for
crimes for which a gently smacked bun would have been more appropriate, I've
found out (albeit vicariously) just how harsh the penal system can be. And
there's no denying that my experiences of having visited a prison over a
period of a year have certainly changed my opinion of the entire penal
system. The morning's service on the radio featured an interview with a
prisoner who described prison as somewhere where he could only survive by
being friendly to everyone but being friends with no one. I would not want
anyone to spend any time in such an atmosphere. And so to work
where I did my bit. Whilst continually looking out of the window at the
glorious day outside. I would rather have been out and about with family and
friends today. Days off mid-week are very good provided there is someone else
to do things with. Having said that, it was probably as well that I was
working today or I would have been tempted to have set up a stall to flog
paintings at the afternoon's psychic fair. I've been to two of those so far
and have (just about) covered my costs. As the day progressed I had a few
texts from family and friends telling me about what I was missing. Including
missing Fudge slipping the lead and running riot in a field of sheep. From
what I can determine the problem wasn't so much with the pestilential pup as
operator error. It seemed to me that his lead had not been attached to his
collar but to the flimsy link holding his I.D. tag
in place. That's one mistake that won't happen again. Also being working
meant I got to miss Fudge's first bath (he usually has a shower), and
I got to miss the spectacle of Fudge eating a tennis ball. I got him the ball
last week- I thought he'd like to play with a ball. He thought he'd like to
eat it. That dog has no sense. Having eaten something which gave him the
gut-rot last Monday (and put him off food for two days!) I caught him trying
to eat a dead mouse on Friday's walk and today he ate a tennis ball. In the
past he's eaten his own bed. The strangest thing about his eating habits is
that he's not actually a greedy dog. He will leave half of his meals to eat a
bit later; there is often some of his brekkie still
in the bowl at mid-afternoon which he will come back to later when the mood
takes him. Wish I could do
that with my brekkie... |
|
19 November 2012
(Monday) - Films, Walkies, Caching...
I spent a little while this morning trying
to find a whistle. I have been blowing a whistle every time I give Fudge one
of his treats, and I have this theory that he will associate the sound of the
whistle with getting a treat. The idea being that when we are out and he is
off the lead, if I’m having trouble getting him back again I can blow the
whistle. He will think it is treat time and will come charging up to me. And
so will be easy meat to be captured and put back on the lead. However the entire plan hinges on having a
whistle to blow. We’d lost it. Eventually we found one left over from last
Christmas, so I took that with us and gave it a try when he was off the lead.
It seemed to work. Well, there was no “seemed” about it. It worked. He
was charging about fifty yards away. I blew the whistle. He came back to me,
sat, and lifted his paw (which is the only trick he can do). We did
this a few times, and even when he was on the lead I blew the whistle and
then gave him a treat a few times. He does seem to have got the idea. I took Fudge on a geocaching episode today.
It is three days since I last did any, and withdrawal symptoms were setting
in. But this wasn’t finding them. This was geocache maintenance time. One of
my caches was waterlogged and needed a little bit of T.L.C.
And another one had simply gone missing and needed replacing. That took half
an hour, but Fudge needed more of a walk than that, so we took the scenic
route to the southernmost parts of town where (until today) there have been
precious few geocaches. We spent a couple of hours setting the
caches for the “Park Farm Pootle”, a series of six geocaches around
the Park Farm estate. In doing so we quadrupled the geocaches on that estate.
They are all relatively easy to find; aimed at beginners and families. A bit
of light hearted fun. I hope that the punters have as much fun seeking them
out as I did finding places to hide them. “Hide and Seek” isn’t an
easy game to get just right. Some hides are just plain obvious, and some are
just impossible. It’s been asked why I chose the Park Farm
estate for my third series of caches. There are quite a few reasons. Firstly
the area didn’t have many, and that is a rarity in the Ashford area. Secondly
they are all accessible without getting caked in mud, and that takes some
doing at the moment. And thirdly (but possibly the main reason) it that it is
a very transparent attempt to convert one of my loyal readers over to the
dark side of geocaching. (You know who you are!) Whilst out, I saw some old friends. They
didn’t recognise me at first – it’s been some years. But they looked through
the face fur and soon saw it was me. When "Daddies
Little Angel TM" and "My Boy TM"
were toddlers we struck up friendships with other young families. In the
intervening years Debbie and Nigel moved to Maidstone, moved to America,
moved all over the place. But we kept in touch through the wonders of the
Internet. And it was good to catch up with them today And also whilst out I read a very
interesting notice. When I walk Fudge round and about I can never let him off
the lead as much as I’d like because there are horses in lots of the fields.
It seems that many of these fields belong to the local council, and the
horses are there without council permission. One such notice was saying that
if the horses in a particular field were still there in a few days’ time then
the horses would be removed. The notice was rather vague about exactly where
the horses would be removed to. Presumably to a field belonging to Folkestone
or Maidstone council, and left to run riot there? And so home where we had a spot of lunch
and I then did all the logging of the caches I'd set. That took a little
while. And then I watched a film I'd recorded onto the SkyPlus
box a few days ago. The
Scouting Book for Boys looked as though it had promise, but turned out to
be a disappointment. "My Boy TM"
came home and told me that Fudge looked worn out. And then I had a flurry of
emails. THe series of caches I'd set had been given
the thumbs-down. The reviewer thought that one was too close to a play park
and had disqualified the lot. He said that if I moved the offending problem
cache he'd reconsider the lot. This reviewer boils my piss because he is
inconsistent in his application of the rules. the
cache I set today was quite a long way away from the play park. Certainly
further away than three other caches the same chap has allowed near other
play parks. So I zoomed back down to Park Farm and moved the cache. And
re-submitted everything. With "er
indoors TM" out bowling for the evening I watched another
film I'd recorded. Zebra
Crossing was another disappointment. as was the
non-publication of all the work I'd put into making the geocache trail
today... |
|
20 November 2012
(Tuesday) - A Birthday
Just after I published last night's blog
the caches I hid yesterday went live. Five of them had been found six times
each by the time I had my brekkie this morning.
Personally I don't like caching at night, but it seems that I'm in a
vanishingly small minority in that respect. "Daddies
Little Angel TM" arrived with Sid and we took both dogs
for a walk. Yesterday I let Fudge off the lead in a field round the back of Asda, and today we went back there to investigate the
area. We found a footpath that we never knew existed which led down to
Herbert Road past the Swan young farmers club. We never knew that existed
either. I'm not sure what goes on in a young farmers club, but they had some
sheep and goats. Whilst out I found a footbridge which was just crying out to
have a geocache hidden underneath it. I might go back and put one there at
some point. On the way back we saw a new bridge was being
put across the river by Asda, and it looked like a
tarmac path was being built from this bridge. I wonder where that will go to? And so home again. Whilst "Daddies Little Angel TM"
wrestled with her university work I ironed shirts. Dull, but a job which
wouldn't do itself. Whilst we did our chores the dogs scrapped over the
fragments of a toy puppet Fudge had destroyed some time ago. For all that
Fudge isn't always good with other dogs, he does
seem to play well with Sid. It's only a shame that they are the two most
flatulent dogs I've ever met. Oh, their bums are rank! I then spent a few minutes tidying up the
front garden. It had become something of a mess. I had a look in the back
garden and gathered up the dog dung. I couldn't be bothered to do anything
else there today. In previous years I've taken a lot of pride in the back
garden. Now I can't be bothered. And so round to see "My Boy TM"
and Cheryl. Lacey was six years old today, and
family and friends gathered. She had a decent haul of pressies,
and I lay on the floor and played "Doggie Doo" with her for
a while. Interestingly "Doggie Doo" is something about which
I ranted
a year ago. Its actually quite good fun. And then on to Folkestone for the weekly
gathering. In between exchanging insults we watched another episode of "Firefly".
Good times... |
|
21 November 2012
(Wednesday) - Fun with Orinoco
This morning as I checked what was
happening on Facebook I was rather shocked to hear the news from an old
friend. I've known Kev for over thirty years. We
don't meet up anywhere near as much as I'd like, but we do catch up a few
times each year. Most recently a month ago at the Hastings bonfire parade. By
trade Kev is a tree surgeon, and earlier this week
he had a very nasty accident with a chain saw. His left arm was severely
lacerated with serious muscle and nerve damage done. He's had specialist
surgery in Brighton and the prognosis for recovery is good. This news rather
put my own worries into proportion. Having said that I seem to have developed a
really painful knuckle overnight. I wonder what that's all about. The national news goes from ridiculous to
farcical with allegations that the late Cyril
Smith was also a kiddy fiddler. Stories of his
alleged fiddling date from 1974. If anyone can give an honest detailed
account of what they were doing thirty eight years ago I would be very
surprised. There can hardly be a celebrity left who isn't absolutely
terrified of such slanders. Being in the public eye seems to have given the
media carte blanche to pursue such stories, and being dead serves their
purpose even more. I for one am certainly racking my brains
trying to remember anyone remotely famous whom I encountered as a child. No
one springs to mind at the moment, but if any of my loyal readers could name
someone famous who was in the general vicinity of Hastings in the early 1970s,
I am quite happy to go halves on whatever money I can get out of making up
stories of having been fiddled by them. I can remember that the Wombles opened a supermarket near my mum's house at one
point during those years. I wonder if I could make out that Orinoco put his
hands where he shouldn't have? I overheard an interesting conversation
today. One person had apparently just come back from a holiday in Mexico.
She'd been there for two weeks and spent the entire time in the hotel. When
asked what tourist attractions she'd been to she
thought for a bit, and then said that she'd been to the hotel's pool, and to
the hotel's cabaret. She apparently had no interest in leaving the hotel at
all. When asked what part of Mexico she'd been to
she replied "Mexico - by the airport". And when asked the question
of which airport she replied "Mexico airport". From her tone
the "dur!!!" following the
statement was very much implied. Why do people travel half way round the
world just to sit by a swimming pool. Today I met up with one of my ex-students
who had just come back from a holiday in India. Whilst away he'd thought of
me, and had brought me a whole load of Indian fighting kites. I was rather
choked up at his thinking of me - I'd not seen him in over a year. And a chap I'd known vaguely for twenty
years retired today. He was a good fellow. It's sad to see him go, and I
can't help but wonder how long it will be before I get to retire myself. It
can't come quickly enough. When I'm at work I rather miss my dog.... |
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22 November 2012
(Thursday) - Covered in Fox Poo
Among my many and varied hobbies I fly
kites. I no longer post on any kite-related internet forums as it is too easy to misunderstand what someone else has written
and to have your own words misunderstood. It was the same when I kept snakes,
and now it seems to be the same with geocaching. On Monday I mentioned that I
hid a cache only to have it turned down because it was too close to a playpark. At the time I didn't realise there was even a playpark nearby. I've had other caches turned down for
the same reason, whilst I know of (at least) four other caches which
are closer to playparks than the one for which I
got the thumbs down. Including one of my own. So I went through the official
rules to get some guidance. The official rules were vague, so I asked on a
geocaching forum for advice. In retrospect I really wish that I hadn't.
Perhaps I was being over sensitive, but some of the replies were (in part)
quite nasty. Having been accused of having half a brain, other posts seemed
to imply that placing a geocache in the general vicinity of a school implied
paedophilia. Another took offence at perceived digs on my part (supposedly
aimed at people I don't even know) that I simply hadn't made. I got the answer to my question from an
entirely different source. It turns out that candidate geocaches are all
judged on their individual merits by the specific reviewers. Reviewers who
live dozens (if not hundreds) of miles away and who have no local
knowledge. Instead they use on-line maps, which are not always right - Google
Maps has the position of Norton Knatchbull school
wrong by some miles. Which clearly explains the variable
way in which caches are allowed or rejected. This was a pain in the bum. I'd taken the
trouble to get council permission to hide some caches in the Ashford Green
Corridor, but one of the places I had in mind is not very far (as the crow
flies) from a football pitch. Personally I didn't see any problem with
the hide... It was at this point that the doorbell rang. The nice man had arrived to service our
boiler. It wasn't cheap, but regular readers of this drivel may recall that
the boiler went west a couple of years ago and that was rather expensive. I'd
rather shell out a reasonable amount of cash yearly to keep the thing going
rather than running this one into the ground like we did the last one. It
didn't take long, but once the nice man had done I realised he's left the
bottom cover off. I've left a message on his phone for him to come back to
fix it. I then took Fudge for a walk to Frog's
Island to set that geocache. After all, I'd gone to the trouble of getting
permission from the council, and if it was too near to a football pitch, then
I'd decided I'd spit my dummy out and formally squeal up all the others that
might be in place but break the rules anyway. As I scrubbled
about hiding the cache Fudge scrubbled about
rolling in fox poo. I am reliably informed that you can tell fox poo because
when rubbed on a dog it smells of rancid fish. Foul dog! I abandoned any
plans I had to go on more of a walk and we came straight home for bath time.
With the dog scrubbed I did the on-line registering of the cache I'd hidden,
and there were no quibbles. This one went live within ten minutes and was
found for the first time an hour or so later. You can see the details of the
cache by
clicking here. A quick spot of lunch, then round to
collect the first fruit of my loin. We went to the driving range again. I
quite like smacking golf balls into the middle distance. I didn't get on too
well today - my back was playing up somewhat. Probably because I was laying awkwardly on the floor whilst playing "Doggie
Doo" with Lacy a couple of days ago. But I enjoyed myself. I came
home with loads of dog-related paraphenalia that my
boy had got for me, including a new harness for the pup, and a dog Advent
Calendar. Fudge sat on my lap whilst I pootled about on the Internet. As I
pootled I realised I could smell something. Rancid fish. The poor pup got
another bath - this one was somewhat more vigorous. Meanwhile the mo
grows apace. There's no denying that I hate the thing, but it is raising some
money for a good cause. please feel free to sponsor it; in
eight days it is coming off. |
|
23 November 2012
(Friday) - Stuff
With my beloved out
flogging candles I had something of an early night last night. And after
twenty minutes I went downstairs to comfort Fudge who was crying pitifully. I
must have not secured the dog-proofing as I am reliably informed that when my
beloved came home Fudge was fast asleep on my bed. Can't think how that
happened. It's odd that when she's home in the evenings he takes himself off
to bed and doesn't make any fuss. This morning I had
a quick dose of Earth, Wind and Fire in Trap One, and then did the weekly
weigh-in. The day on which I have my weekly weigh-in
has become rather variable lately, but I do average a weigh-in once a week.
And more weight has come off. At this rate being under
thirteen stones is seeming more and more possible.
Yesterday I had to drill yet another hole in my belt which is a good six
inches tighter than once it was. To work. I listened
to the end of the morning's news program as I drove. Consumer groups are
worried about energy costs as their experts have predicted that the
government is doing something daft. Apparently government subsidies of green
energy will add a hundred quid to our yearly fuel bills. The Energy Minister
came on the program and was rather amazed because his experts are all of the
impression that green energy will save us all a hundred quid every year.
Personally I'm all for green energy; but I'm not all for increased bills. There was also
mention that there are moves afoot for Mexico to have a change of name.
The country's president wants the name changed to just "Mexico"
as opposed to "The United States of Mexico" which is it's
real name, but is rarely (if ever) used. I suspect that Mexico only
gets called The United States of Mexico by its mum when she is cross with it. Then it was "Desert
Island Discs", this time featuring the television
producer John Lloyd. He's one of the brains behind much of successful
telly including Spitting Image and Blackadder to name but two. Unlike many of
the people on "Desert Island Discs", this bloke was witty,
articulate and actually interesting. It was a shame I missed the end of the
program really. I did my bit at
work and came home. Rather late. I listened to the news on the way home too. Rather
worrying. With the Prime Minister not having secured as much as a rebate
from the euro bill as he might have hoped,he's now playing to the crowd with teasing
references to a euro-referendum. He's not daft. It will appeal to the
jingoistic element. It's a vote winner. Britain will be out of the E.U. within ten years. And at war with it shortly
after.... Meanwhile the mo grows apace. There's no denying that I hate the thing,
but it is raising some money for a good cause. please
feel free to sponsor it;
in one week it is coming off. |
|
24 November 2012
(Saturday) - Tuned In
‘er indoors
TM set
off to the convention of candle floggers at silly am this morning leaving me
home alone with furry face. We both had a quick spot of brekkie,
and then I took him for a walk before the rain was forecast to arrive. Up to
the Bowens Field wetland where I amazed myself by having a bit of a jog. I
ran for several hundred yards. Little Fudge seemed to like having me running,
and rather than doing his own thing off the lead, he kept pace with me. He
could have kept going for miles. I couldn't. I had to stop, but when I did I
had covered a far greater distance that I thought I could have done. We
walked round to Viccy Park, down Jemmett Road and across the Co-op field where I let him
off the lead again and we both had another little run. Am I being overly ambitious in wondering if
I might take up running? Whilst we were out I couldn't help but
notice the amount of houses with Kleeneze
catalogues on the doorsteps. I found that rather depressing. There's far too
much competition locally to really make a go of flogging that stuff. Home, where I did the monthly accounts.
They weren't as bad as I was expecting; they weren't as good as I was hoping.
There's no denying that I don't like this new order of austerity. I need to
find something which will bring in more cash. Not lots; just some. More cash
from little effort would be good. But more cash. If anyone wants any little
jobs doing, I'm your man. I will do absolutely anything for hard cash(!) Not that I'm bankrupt - far from it. It's
just that when you are used to being able to afford to spend every Saturday
afternoon in the pub, it's a bit of a pain when you can't any more. Having
said that, you can get too much time in the pub. I prefer looking forward to
being under thirteen stone than looking forward to being over nineteen stone. Chippy called round with
a barrel. I’d been waiting for that. I got the bucket of beer for that barrel
up and onto a table, and left it to settle for a few hours. Whilst I was
waiting for the beer to settle, Lisa called round, and we set off for the
business of the day. There’s a local geocache called “Tuned
In” which I’ve had my eye on for a while. This one isn’t like your
average cache – having found the first part, it then leads you on to four
other stages. Each part needs you to solve a music-related puzzle. Having
done most of the other local caches I didn’t have many left in Ashford. So
during last week I mentioned on the Kent caching Facebook group that I was
going to try for this cache, and did anyone else fancy having a go at it with
me. Ten hardy souls braved the weather. The first part took some finding. We
very nearly fell at the first hurdle, but having eventually found it we
needed to solve guitar chords. And then we had the co-ordinates for the next
puzzle. And off we went. Using apps on our phones to identify all sorts of
musical thingies we eventually completed the cache and got to sign the log
despite the rain. By now we were all rather damp, but we
pressed on to the local woods where Lisa had hidden six caches. I’d already
found four of them before, but it was a fun afternoon out with new friends.
And what else would I do on my own on a wet November day? After a couple of hours we’d found all the
caches, and with the light slowly failing we said our goodbyes and made our
ways home. For us it was via another cache in Newtown, before putting the
kettle on and drying out wet coats in readiness for another session tomorrow. I then put Chip’s beer into the barrel. And
had a crafty swig whilst I was at it. There’s a lot of fruit flavour there,
but not a lot of beer flavour. Mind you, it still has a month for the taste
to develop. But if all else fails it’s not too shabby as it is. I then
checked out what had gone on in the world whilst I’d been out. I saw a friend
has had a tattoo done. Call me old fashioned if you will, but if I
was going to have a word, phrase or saying tattooed onto me I would check the
spelling when the transfer was applied, and certainly before the needle got
involved… |
|
25 November 2012
(Sunday) - The Alternates
We were up with the lark this morning.
Realistically today's planned walk would have been more suited to being a
summertime one when the days are longer. But in my world idiot enthusiasm
usually triumphs over common sense, and today saw another such victory. We
were brekkied, dressed and out of the house by 8am.
There was a minor delay when we had to drive back to Lisa's house to collect
her phone, but we were at the starting point by 9am. "The Alternates" is a
series of over fifty geocaches in the Sevenoaks area. The series features
some of every kind of geocache, open ones, premium member ones, multis, puzzles, even letterbox hybrids - and you rarely
see those. It also includes the longest and shortest multis
I've ever seen. It was a cold day, and windy at
times. But it started brightly enough, and five of us soon solved the first
puzzle and off we went. We found the first half-dozen caches really
easily; and then I had a minor worry. The seventh cache was a puzzle cache.
The co-ordinates were given along the lines of Paris multiplied by Rome minus
Munich. We'd seen this earlier in the week; I'd put out a message on Facebook
asking for help. I'd been given some suggestions and I'd tried them and came
up with a solution which was in the general vicinity of where it should have
been. And (would you believe it) my solution was correct. The cache
was where I thought it would be. Oh, I was so smug about that. And on we went. Fudge made himself ill by eating horse poo. We got shouted at by some
old harridan for being on a public footpath used by her horse. We had a
snigger at "Pennis Lane"
and "Pennis House". It was
at Pennis House that we took a bit of a detour. The
entire series of caches are arranged in a circle. If you run short of time
you can cut out part of the circle by following five "link"
caches. We thought that we'd just do the five link ones as well as all of the
others. And we did. It was a lovely walk through some beautiful scenery. At a
couple of points the route went through a golf course where golfers had to
smack the ball over a lake to the holes. I would be stuffed there. Cache 42 of the series was my eight
hundredth geocache. Eight hundred since the first one on the last day of
July. That's not bad going. Cache 42 was also where the weather turned. The
rain started. Gentle at first, but more and more persistent. But walking in a
circular route meant we had no choice but to push on. And we did. Despite the
rain getting heavier and heavier, and the light failing, we carried on. The
last hour was done in darkness in the torrential rain with me carrying a
small dog who, after the twelfth mile, had refused
to walk any further. But we did what we had set out to do; and more. Over the
course of eight hours and thirteen miles we found sixty three geocaches:
So far this is my most prolific day's
caching. Much gratitude is due to those who set the trail. As always there
are photos
of the event on-line. Meanwhile my mo
grows. There's no denying that I hate the thing, but it is raising some money
for a good cause. please feel free to sponsor it; in
five days it is coming off. |
|
26 November 2012
(Monday) - The End of the World
I was rather tired after yesterday's
thirteen mile hike. Little Fudge certainly was. I went to bed shortly after
11pm, was woken by my beloved's snoring at 2.30am, and then lay awake for the
rest of the night; alternately listening to the sound of torrential rain
against the window, and snoring. I eventually gave up with the idea of sleeping
and went downstairs to find a very sheepish looking dog. He'd not been sent
out last thing last night, and he'd been taken short. Woops!
That was the last thing I needed after such a bad night's sleep, but I
couldn't be cross with him. After all it was "operator error"
really. And so to work. As I drove I listened to
the news which was abuzz with the death of Larry Hagman
who played JR in Dallas. I didn't realise that there was currently a series
of "Dallas - The Next Generation" on the telly in which Larry Hagman featured. It's amazing what happens when you don't
pay attention. There was also a lot of talk about the floods - large
parts of the country are flooded. Hundreds of people are relying on their
household insurance to help them out. Thousands of people are being told that
from now on their houses won't be covered against flood damage in future.
This could well make their houses un-sellable. Mind you I can see the insurance companies'
point of view. Especially as the Government won't
contribute to help. Something which boiled my piss was the
latest brainwave from Cambridge University - the "Cambridge
Project for Existential Risk". Concerned that mankind might get
wiped out by plague, killer robots, asteroid strikes or other such
far-fetched stuff, those in a position to do so have set themselves
up on a nice little gravy train. They intend to play with ideas that
science-fiction had tired of before I was born. And get paid for it as well.
Nice work if you can get it. After the news was a current affairs
program about the re-unification of Germany. I listened intently to the
program in the hope that I might learn something. Unfortunately after half an
hour I still had no idea what they were talking about, other than that if
they are having such trouble re-unifying Germany, what hope is there for a
united Europe. Meanwhile sponsorship for the mo is approaching the hundred quid mark. Please feel free to sponsor it; in
four days it is coming off. |
|
27 November 2012
(Tuesday) - fudge (with a small "f")
Last week I laid out a series of geocaches
around the Park Farm estate. This morning's haul of emails brought news that
one of these caches was now waterlogged. Odd. When they went out they all had
waterproof bags around them. So after a quick bit of brekkie
I took Fudge for a walk so's we could put the cache
right. Half an hour's walk to the cache, two minutes to sort the thing, and
half an hour to walk back again. I would like to have gone to the park or
some fields where Fudge could have had a run, but al
the rain we've had meant that everywhere was waterlogged. With more rain forecast we came home and I
spent a rather dull day doing housework. Tidying up and sorting out. Mostly
putting things into piles so that "er
indoors TM" can (hopefully) deal with them later.
I then did some hoovering. Or Dysoning
to be more specific. And then I disassembled the Dyson, cleaned out all the
dust, string and stuff clogged in its works, and Dysoned
again properly. Next it was time for the laundry - washing, ironing, sorting
out the smalls. Fudge took a liking to the smalls, and fell asleep on top of
them. I lifted him off. He woke up, looked at me, and climbed back on. Whilst I was busy the phone rang. "My
Boy TM" was home with Lacey
who'd been brought home from school with a temperature. She's got croup, and
had been to the hospital with it over the weekend. No one tells me anything(!) And the insurance company phoned. The
house building and contents is due for renewal. The agent wondered if I would
like to renew, or go with another company on their books. This other company
offered effectively the same policy for just over half the cost. That's a
couple of hundred quid I could well do with. With the day's chores done (dull!)
the clans gathered at Somerset Road where we watched another episode of
"Merlin"; which is really good. Matt had been cooking. Three
varieties of fudge (with a small "f"). Very tasty... |
|
28 November 2012
(Wednesday) - On the Radio
Here's a sign
of the times. The average Briton is walking eighty miles less each year.
With inactivity now being seen as bad for the health as smoking, this rise in
idleness is being taken to be yet another contributing factor to cancer,
diabetes and heart disease. Perhaps the average Briton should take up
geocaching. That would make them walk a bit more. Or that is the way that I
do it would make them walk a bit more. I have no time for this drive-by
nonsense (he lied)... I digress.... As I drove home this evening there was an
interesting discussion about the subject on the radio. The crux of
the debate was that a lot of illness which is currently being dealt with by
over-worked hospitals is arguably directly attributable to the lifestyle
choices made my those with said illnesses. The question
asked was should those who smoke, fail to exercise, and/or regularly drink to
excess expect to get free treatment for their self-induced maladies from the NHS? Obviously they shouldn't. Obviously they get all
they deserve (!) So how do we spot those who shouldn't
benefit from free health care? Can you really tell a smoker from a non-smoker
if the smoker is making an effort to hide his predilection for fags? Some
people (like me) put on weight by merely glancing at a cream cake;
others can dine on lard and remain svelte. Is discriminating against people
like me really fair? And how about the super-fit health fanatic who slips on
a dog turd and breaks his leg whilst out jogging. Why should the non-jogging
community foot the bill? And is someone who plays football regularly
deliberately increasing his chances of injury (and subsequent cost to the
hospital)? Initially I was of the opinion that (as
a bit of a porker myself) we've all paid our bit and so are entitled to
health care. But now I've thought about it I'm not so sure. Is the actual
concept of deserving and un-deserving patients simply wrong? Or is it a
choice that a health system which is strapped for cash needs to make? And how
is such a choice to be made? I don't know the answer. But I do know that
I worry far less about my own healthcare provision (which is currently
free) than I do about that of my dog's (which costs) Meanwhile here's a much sadder sign
of the times. Sir Cyril Smith was another celebrity who abused his
position to take advantage of small children. Apparently. In a novel break
with current practice, it seems that this case might actually have a nugget
of truth in it. This morning's news had a statement from his family
regretting the incidents, but commenting on the unfortunate "trial by
media" which is taking place. The family have a point. Over the last few weeks I've touched on
this and other such cases. I've wondered how many other celebrities are
worried. Some are worried that their crimes will be uncovered. As well they
might worry. But it is my concern that a far greater number of innocent
people are living in fear of baseless allegations made against them by those
making money from selling these stories. I for one am now worried about such
baseless allegations being made against me. Over the years when I was a scout
leader, at camps and sleep-overs children would from time to time foul
themselves. When camping this would happen (on average) at a rate of about
one child every night. Sometimes more; rarely less. It was every single night
for three weeks when we took them to Canada for the first time. I lost count
of the amount of such boys that I (and other scout leaders) cleaned
up. And, to be blunt, you can't clean up such a shitted child without being
rather intimate. Admittedly in retrospect I may well have
put myself into a compromising position in doing so, but what alternative was
there? Should we have left these boys (unable to clean themselves) caked
in their own poo? Many of these boys are now in their
twenties. They all now have bills to pay. Some have their own houses and
families to support. And they are seeing these stories about alleged child
abuse in the news. They are seeing the lucrative deals newspapers will offer
to victims of such alleged crimes. I wonder how long it will be before an ex-cub points the finger at me for financial
gain? When they do, I expect I will be stuffed. I've done no wrong, but as
I've mentioned before several times, from bitter experience I have absolutely
no confidence in the British judicial system. Meanwhile in more mundane news I am
reliably informed that a rat which is the size of Fudge has taken up
residence in my back garden . I wonder what I'm
supposed to do about that. I can't put down poison or Fudge will eat it.
Similarly he'll stick his nose into any rat traps I might put down. If the
rat were smaller, Fudge might have seen it off. This rat might see him off. I
shall have a think... |
|
29 November 2012
(Thursday) - Busy, Busy...
I was laying
in bed last night having a last minute check of my emails before going to
sleep when I saw something that wound me up just a little bit. Regular
readers of this drivel might recall a rant I made a week or so about
locations of geocaches. The guidelines say that they shouldn't be near
schools or youth clubs. Last week I found what I thought would be the ideal
place to hide a cache, but I then realised that it was right on top of a
children's farm. So I immediately rejected the place as a potential hide. At
11.30pm last night I read that a cache had been hidden in that very spot. I
considered ranting on the geocaching forums, but decided not to bother.
Instead I thought I'd take Fudge to find it in the morning. But I couldn't sleep. I went onto the Kent
Caching page where a fellow cacher was egging me on
to go to find it. After an hour I realised that "er
indoors TM" was still up and about, and was talking
on-line to another cacher. And Fudge wanted a walk
anyway. So three of us (and Fudge who doesn't like geocaching) set off
to find this cache. My GPS took us almost exactly to the spot where I had
been planning to hide the cache. And within five minutes I was feeling rather
smug having found the cache. In true "Team ELF" style I
carried on searching before standing back and being smug. Within another
minute we were all feeling smug, Even more so when we opened the cache and
saw we were the first ones there. At 1.08am. I'm not normally a fan of
night-caching... Mind you I am still rather miffed about
this cache. It is on the footpath by a farm project aimed at children. In
fact it is not two yards from the farmland. The cache I had turned down was
ten times further away (and on the other side of a very busy road)
from anywhere aimed at kiddies. Perhaps it’s not surprising that I slept
well. After a spot of brekkie I took furry face for
a walk round Bowens Field, through the park and home. He seemed to like it.
On the way home we met the first fruit of my loin who was on his way home
too. He seemed well, for all that he was moaning about having a cold. A quick
cuppa. and the Folkstonians
arrived. One of them did her own thing whilst me and
the Rear Admiral set off on a mission. Being the end of November we thought there
might be bargains to be had in Camping International. So we set off there. As
it was quite a while since I’d been there, we used Sat-Nav. Woops. Now
perhaps I made a boo-boo, but if you put “Camping International” into
Google Maps the place comes up with the correct address and post code.
However when you then use that same map to navigate to the shop, it takes you
to somewhere just over ten miles closer to London. Bexleyheath to be precise.
(Go on – try it out!) Oh, how we laughed. By the time we eventually found Gillingham
it was gone mid-day, so we popped into Gina’s café for a spot of lunch. Very
tasty. And then on to Camping International. There were one or two tents that
looked quite good; but still more expensive than on eBay. So we came home.
And in another triumph of Sat-Nav we almost (but
not quite) came home via Sheerness. Once home we found the most recent fruit of
my loins, and after a quick cuppa took the dogs for a walk, reprising the
route we did this morning, but in reverse. Whilst out I managed to rip a hole
in my fleece. I wasn’t happy about that; but I think I’ve managed to stitch a
repair which will do to be getting on with. And then we spent the evening scoffing
curry and watching episodes of Star Trek. Good times... |
|
30 November 2012 (Friday)
- Having a Shave...
Regular readers of this drivel will know
that I suffer from chronic insomnia. To solve that problem I have downloaded
a sleep
management app to my SmartPhone. I'm still
rather vague as to the specifics of how I can manage my sleep using a
telephone. But if I can communicate, play games and go geocaching with the
gadget, then having a bit of a kip surely can't be that difficult I checked my emails - I'm in the money(!) Regular readers of this drivel may recall that in
February I went for a walk round Shadoxhurst. I put
the details of the route I'd taken onto happy wanderer dot com, and anyone
who wanted to go on that walk could pay a modest fee to download the route.
And from that modest fee I would get some commission. Over the summer people did pay a fee and
download that route several times. And now I've got my commission. Fourteen
pence. I have this money as credit in my account, and I can trade the credit
for hard cash when I get to having a balance which is over ten quid. I can either publish one or two more routes
to maximise the income, or I can give up on the idea as a silly waste of
time. I think I might publish some of the geocaching walks I've recently
done. After all I would like to get some money out of this scheme before I
retire. It's official. Winter has arrived. For the
first time since last winter I found my car covered in frost and ice this
morning. It was nothing that pouring a bottle of tepid water over it couldn't
shift, but it still added five minutes to the morning's chores nonetheless.
As always when it's frosty I met up with the neighbour who delights in
standing over me tutting at my bottle of tepid
water. He is convinced that it is not tepid; that it is hot. And he is also
convinced that being hot it will shatter the windscreen. He doesn't seem to
realise that we've had this conversation several times every week, every
winter for the last ten or so years. Every time that the cars are iced over, I
find myself going through the same old routine. I come to my car, having
found him already out in the cold, scratching ice from his car. I chuck cold
water over my car and it is clear. He whinges on at me, and I drive away.
Leaving him still scratching ice. I can only think that he must love standing
in the cold scraping ice from his car. As I shivered on the way to work I listened
to the radio. Regular readers of this drivel will kow
that I have often ranted about an uncontrolled media. It would seem that the Leveson
enquiry is calling for regulation of the press. As well it might. The
Prime Minister is apparently against the idea, but in a novel break with
tradition the Dribbling Democraps are showing a bit
of backbone and are standing up against him. The opposition are also against
the Prime Minister, and are threatening to call for a vote on the matter. WIth the Dribblers in revolt, the opposition might win. Personally I think they are right to call
for such a vote, but a cynical part of myself
wonders if they want a vote for the right reasons. Do they honestly want a
properly regulated media, or do they just want to embarrass the Prime
Minister? Being the last Friday of the month I left
work early and set off to astro club. That club
goes from strength to strength. Stevey gave
tonight's talk. Brilliant. Excellent talks, clear skies for viewing, good
time with good friends. But I left a little early to come home for a shave.
And in closing, that's it for the face fur
for another year. So far the sponsorship has passed the hundred quid mark.
The thing has now been shaved off, but I believe it's still not too late to
hand over dosh. Please feel
free to sponsor it; and next year you might want to sponsor it again..... |
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