18 March 2024 (Monday) - Volunteering

Once I’d scoffed toast and watched a bit of telly I had a quick look at the Internet. Several people were crowing that cash is king following Sainsbury’s episode over the weekend when their IT systems went tits-up. For all that a five pound note can’t go down, I’m reminded of a mate who had several hundred quid in cash stolen; you can cancel a credit card. You can’t cancel a nicked fiver.
The chief executive of Sainsburys had emailed me this morning to say sorry. That was nice of him; he’d written a great big letter which didn’t actually say anything.
 
I had a quick Munz session, then set off to work. Again much of the way out of Ashford was bunged up because of road works in which no one was actually working. The traffic going up the motorway was especially slow as well for no apparent reason.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were spouting their usual drivel. Apparently Sadiq Khan, the mayor of London, is starting his election campaign for a third term of office. Despite being in office for nearly ten years there is still loads wrong with London. Mr. Khan was being interviewed live on air this morning, and he was laying all of the failings of his administration firmly on the Conservative government. Well he would, wouldn't he? But one thing made me think. He was blaming knife crime and youth gang culture on the cuts made to social services and youth workers which have consequently made youth clubs close.
What's that all about?
When I was a lad there was a youth club over the road from our house. For a while I went to PAC (Physical Activities Club) which operated up the road. I was in the Salvation Army's youth club for a while, and the Barbarians swimming club and St Mark’s youth club. I was a cub scout, and was in the Boys Brigade for years. None of these had any government funding. All were run by volunteers. Like I was a volunteer during my thirteen years as a scout leader.
Doesn't anyone run youth activities voluntarily any more?
 
I got to work. In between work I had a meeting with the boss to discuss the hours I work; or more specifically how lates on Mondays and day shifts on Thursdays are difficult. Fifteen years ago my work was pretty much my life. These days work seems to just get in the way.

17 March 2024 (Sunday) - Family Dinner

I slept reasonably well but woke in the small hours needing the loo. I came back to bed to find no space whatsoever. Eventually I secured a few inches along the edge and dozed fitfully in between nightmares about Martin opening a café for space aliens over the road, and “My Boy TM” choosing to identify as a six year old pirate, dressing himself in an old curtain and brandishing a rusty bread knife at the normal people.
I gave up trying to sleep and thought I might get some more paint onto the fence. I would have done had it not been raining hard. The weather forecasters are rubbish, but today they got it right.
 
I made toast and peered into the Internet. Not a lot was going on really, which was probably a good thing. I had an email from the power company saying that the price of power was going down, but there was no mention of my monthly payments going down though.
I had a quick Munz from the comfort of the sofa, wrote up some CPD, then took the dogs for a walk. The idea was a quick circuit of the park. We got a quarter of the way to the park and were soaked. The rain was that annoyingly deceptive fine rain which doesn’t look to be much but gets you wringing wet in seconds.
Once home we towelled the dogs off, and I made the most of the rain water by sweeping the yard and front garden. 
 
After a little while spent fussing the dogs “er indoors TM sent me shopping. Aldi was surprisingly busy this morning. Apart from substituting carrots for parsnips I got all I was sent to get.
 
My Boy TM” and Cheryl came round, We had a rather good dinner scoffing far too much and putting the world to rights. The fourth can of London Pride and the fifth helping of pudding was perhaps a tad too much though…

16 March 2024 (Saturday) - Dog Club, Gardening

This morning amongst the various rantings and ravings on Facebook I saw something that made me smile. And then think. The calls for Britain to pay reparations for the slave trade are growing. I’m in no way trying to belittle the horrific trade that went on for years, but I didn’t do it. I’m in no way responsible, and I’m being asked to pay for something which happened hundreds of years before I was born. So… the suggestion has been made that the UK funds its reparations by suing Norway and Italy for the Viking and Roman invasions.
Why not?
If I’m responsible for something that is nothing to do with me and happened hundreds of years before I was born, then so are today’s Italians and Norwegians. And if that sounds ridiculous, then so is expecting me to take responsibility.
And then there was someone asking for prayers for her dog who had a kidney infection. Recently the same dog has had liver issues, surgery to remove a toy that he’s swallowed, and back problems. Why pray to a god to solve an issue that this god could have prevented in the first place?
Meanwhile there was quite a bitter argument kicking off about whether the cartoon character Scrooge McDuck had ever fathered children.
 
We got the dogs organised and set off to Repton and Dog Club. As we drove we played Steve’s “Guess the Lyrics” competition on the radio. I hadn’t a clue; “er indoors TM thought it sounded familiar. “Mother's got her hairdo to be done. She says they're too old for toys”. It was the Pet Shop Boys.
There was a road accident on the way to Dog Club which delayed us; there was quite a queue of people waiting to get in when we arrived. Dog Club was great fun. One of our regular attendees described it as “Disneyland for Dogs”. The dogs had great fun, and bearing in mind it is actually “Ashford Dog Socialising Club” we had one or two results as well. Dogs who previously wouldn’t leave their owner’s side were wandering around with the others. Dogs who really didn’t like other dogs were playing. When she first started Treacle really hated us having anything to do with other dogs; now she tolerates them, and joins the throng when treats are being dished out.
 
As we drove home Steve was doing the “Mystery Year” competition on the radio. The music sounded familiar, and in the news that year was the opening of the UK’s first nudist beach. I remember that place opening; it wasn’t far from the disused sand quarry where we used to play as kids, and a dozen or so of us would regularly traipse down to the nudey beach at Fairlight Glen in the vain hope of seeing some really foxy young ladies in the nip. All we ever saw was fat old blokes; one of whom would regularly partake of an al-fresco joddrell, but we weren’t deterred.
 
We had a cuppa and a bit of cake then I made a start in the garden. Not-so-nice-next-door’s tree had dropped white petals all over the place so I got the garden vacuum out and voomed around. Then went round with the lawn mower; if nothing else dog turds are so much easier to spot in a mowed lawn. I then pulled weeds from gravel and bodged a repair to not-so-nice-next-door’s fence. The thing is slowly collapsing; I’ve offered to pay to have it replaced but I think my doing so caused offence.
As I kicked shingle about to cover the bare patches, I saw Bailey nosing at a small hole in the fence. Fortunately I could see the hole was far too small for her to get through. I carried on with what I was doing, and five minutes later I watched her climb back into our garden through that hole.
I’d saved some slats from a poggered fence panel which we replaced a while ago; they came in handy today. Building a stopper for that hole only took half an hour.
 
I then drove “er indoors TM to the station. Together with her mates she was off to London for some big Abba tribute concert thingy. Dressed in what I can only describe as a “wipe-clean” outfit, had it been Daddy’s Little Angel TM” I wouldn’t have let her out of the house.
We dropped “er indoors TM off; the dogs all started crying. They were sobbing; they were so heartbroken that she’d gone. We came back, then after another cuppa and more cake I cracked on with fence painting. As I painted so the dogs would come to see what I was doing then go back inside. I went in a couple of times to see what they were doing; they were sleeping. After four hours and five panels painted I reached a sensible stopping point so I stopped.
 
I cleared up, washed the paint off of my hands then spent an hour or so ironing whilst watching episodes of “Friday Night Dinner”, then over a dinner of KFC I watched a film on Netflix. “Three Day Millionaire” was a comedy. I know it was a comedy because it says so on Wikipedia. I’m glad Wikipedia told me it was a comedy; I would never have known.
 
And then a message. “er indoors TM was on the train home. Could I collect her from the station. I popped a fleece over my pyjamas. I had a plan to leave the dogs sleeping, but they saw me putting on the fleece, so I took them for a little ride.
“er indoors TM had a good day. I did too, but I suspect hers was rather more relaxed.

 

15 March 2024 (Friday) - A Rest Day

Apart from a vague recollection of “er indoors TM quarrelling with Treacle in the small hours I slept well. I had my usual morning routine, made toast, watched an episode of "Friday Night Dinner", Munzed as best I could from the sofa, then went out to have a look at the pond. It was a tad clearer than it was yesterday but was till a tad murky. The fish are a tad more active than they were yesterday, but the main thing was that the pumps were still running and I could see the uv bulb glowing through its port hole.
I set off to work through the rain.
 
With the Aylesford Sainsburys service station still closed I went to Ashford Sainsburys for shopping. The petrol might not be as cheap as up the motorway, but I get Nectar points... not that I ever do anything with them.
I went into Sainsbury's main store first. I couldn't find what I needed so I asked an assistant. She pointed out the sign saying "deodorants". I told her that I could see the sign, but where were the actual deodorants? They weren't anywhere near the sign. She directed me to the next aisle. Several other things had been moved about too.
I then went across to the filling station where some chap was trying to chat up the woman behind the till (not the one with a face like a smacked arse), and as he finally walked away he crashed into the people queuing behind him. This chap had absolutely no idea that there had been anyone else in the kiosk other than himself and the woman around whom he had been sniffing.
When I came to pay, the woman with the face like a smacked arse refused to honour any of the vouchers I'd just got from the Sainsbury's main store. Ho hum...
 
The rain got worse as I drove up the motorway. Narrowly avoiding getting blatted by the lorries I listened to the radio as I went. There are elections in Russia this weekend to choose the country's leader. The choice of candidates is Vladimir Putin and a couple of no-hopers. Anyone who might be a credible opposition is dead, imprisoned or exiled. Perhaps not a triumph for democracy, but as we've seen from all the failing councils in the UK, just because someone can say what the masses want to hear is no guarantee that they can actually govern with any competence.
And there was talk about one of Gordon Ramsey's children who is zooming about in a car which cost someone two hundred thousand quid. Did she buy it? Was it a present? Here's a thought... for all that there are no end of people running down the Royal Family and saying what a bad thing their inherited wealth is, you never see anyone whinging about the money that celebrities pass on to their family, do you?
 
Work was work. Compared to the last couple of days in my life it was something of a rest. At tea break there was cake. You can't go wrong with a jam doughnut.
And with work done and doughnut scoffed I came home and got another fence panel painted before “er indoors TM went off shopping. I dozed in front of the telly until she came home with fish and chips.
I like fish and chips… but prefer doughnuts.
 

14 March 2024 (Thursday) - Busy, Busy

I managed something of a lie-in this morning, staying in my pit until eight o’clock which was something of a result.
I made brekkie and had my usual look at the Internet. I sent out four birthday wishes to friends having birthdays (the friends not having birthdays can wait their turn) and had a look-see to find out if I’d missed much. I find myself intrigued by the antics of Matt Hayes these days; again his Facebook page was rather active. Twenty years ago he made fishing programs for the telly. He’s coming back by popular demand, but the “popular demand” has a different perspective on Mr Hayes’ fishing programmes to that which Mr Hayes has. They see it as entertainment. Mr Hayes sees it as livelihood and expects to be paid for making more telly programs. I suppose he could make them in his spare time for free and on the cheap, but that’s not what professional celebrities do, is it?
I also got the notification that our Munzee Clan has reached level two, and we are half-way to our monthly target. A result for those who like sticking bar codes on lamp posts.
 
With “er indoors TM at her office today, she set off to work. I put washing into the washing machine and took the dogs up to the woods where we had a good walk… once we’d evaded the chap with the Akitas. That bloke is an idiot. He’s got two dogs that are far stronger than he is, and they drag him all over the place. When he sees us coming he makes a point of being where we are going to walk and shouting that we should give him a wide berth. When we turn and take another path he runs to be in front of us again. Fortunately I saw him first today.
We met a couple of other dog walkers, we posed for photos, we ate horse poo. Quite a good walk really.
 
We came home and had the mud hosed off of our bellies, I did the dogs’ flea treatments, hung out washing, had a cuppa and went into the garden. Bearing in mind that it is getting warmer I thought I might activate the pond’s filter. Take out the old ultra-violet bulb, pop in the new one, turn it all on. Ten minutes maximum.
Getting the filter open took some doing. And when I found the glass thingy which holds the uv bulb it was rather stiff. I gave it some welly and as it came free so it smashed the old uv bulb, leaving the plug bit wedged into the socket. I eventually prised it out, got the new bulb in place, turned it all on, and had a smug smile as I saw the glow of the new bulb from it’s port-hole and watched the water flowing.
And then the water stopped flowing and the glow from the port-hole wasn’t there any more.
And then I saw an O-ring laying on the decorative bridge which hides the pond filter.
I took it all apart again and saw the watertight sleeve in which the uv bulb sits was full of water. I cleaned and dried it all out, put it all back together again this time with the O-ring in place and this time it worked.
I then cracked on with painting fence panels until I couldn’t move. I would have got on faster had I not been fighting Treacle for the kneeling pad for much of the time.
Remembering what we used to do last year I loudly announced that I was going to feed the fish, the dogs charged up the garden to the pond. It is some months since we last did that, but they remembered.
 
As I ached somewhat I settled in front of the telly and watched episodes of “Four in a Bed” in which people started off best of friends but soon got nasty with each other.
“er indoors TM came home and boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we scoffed watching “Taskmaster: New Zealand”. We’ve also got episodes of “Lego Masters: New Zealandon the Sky-Q box to watch as well. For all that New Zealand is geographically much bigger than the UK, it only has half the population of London. How do they generate so much good TV?
 
This is my third week of semi-retirement and I feel that I’m going to work tomorrow for a rest.

13 March 2024 (Wednesday) - Walk, FTF, McDinner, Fence Painting

As I scoffed brekkie I peered into the Internet. I saw I had an e-invitation to sign a petition to get the Eurostar to stop at Ashford (like it used to). I didn’t sign it. The Eurostar not stopping in Ashford is just like all these pubs closing; if something don’t get used (and therefore don’t make money) it gets the chop.
If enough people had got on the Eurostar at Ashford it would have kept going. It wasn’t making enough money to pay for the border force people and ticket offices and so it closed. For all that I liked the idea of being able to walk up the road and get a train to France, I actually did it once, and that was when work was paying for it.
There was also an email about a new geocache not very far from where we were going this morning. But by the time we’d done dog breakfast and got dressed and farted about it would have been found by someone else… in any case the local king of the First to Find was probably already on the way by the time I’d seen it (or so I thought).
 
So I put that new cache out of my mind, and once the dogs were all ready I took them for their morning constitutional. As we drove to the woods the pundits on the radio were talking about why so many local councils are going bankrupt. They were interviewing some Conservative politician or other; I don’t know who he was but he made a good point.
If you aren’t feeling well you go to a doctor who has been to medical school and who has then acquired many years of experience. If you need work doing on your house you have a look on review websites and pick the best person for the job. But when it comes to running a local council we all vote for whoever stands up and says “vote for me; I’m not as crap as all the others”. Even though they probably have absolutely no experience of running anything at all. And then we all act surprised when they can’t do the job to which we all appointed them even though they were utterly unqualified.
When you think about it, this is no way to run a council, is it? And we run the country that way too.
 
We got to the woods, and had a good time. We played with other dogs. We rolled in a dead blackbird. We did some filming for the movie I’m planning to make for this year’s “Geocaching International Film Festival”.
After four miles we got back to the car. I had a look at the listing for that geocache which had gone live earlier… still no finds and it was only a mile away… The call of the FTF was strong.
It wasn’t long before we were very suspiciously rummaging in someone’s front garden. As we rummaged so a voice called out: “You’re the first”. I’ve been first to find a geocache two hundred and seventy-eight times before, but there is nothing like that smug satisfaction I had this morning when I realised I was first one to find it for the two hundred and seventy-ninth time. Mind you I logged it at 10.25am; two and a quarter hours after publication. Round here, that’s an eternity.
 
We came home for a bath, then leaving the dogs under the supervision of “er indoors TM I drove down to Folkestone. “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM had gone to school, but “Darcie Waa Waa TM had had “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” up quite literally all night. We went for McDinner to calm their nerves. “Darcie Waa Waa TM likes pressing the buttons on the food ordering machine at McDonalds and letting her do so gives you the added excitement of not quite knowing what you going to end up getting.
I had a Big Mac with extra pickles. Littlun doesn’t like pickles; she threw hers at random passers-by. You can get away with doing that when you are two years old.
We went back to theirs for a cuppa and to fuss Pogo. “Darcie Waa Waa TM was impressed that I could catch a ball, and I spent far too long throwing a ball into the air and catching it to her frank amazement.
 
After a rather busy morning I returned home, and seeing the forecast rain hadn’t appeared I went into the garden and painted more fence panels. In the past I’ve averaged one panel every hour and a quarter; today I got three panels done in two and a half hours. I was impressed but ached somewhat afterwards.
I came in just as the doorbell work. The bathroom man was bringing samples of wall and floor tiles. It looks like this new bathroom is going to happen. I pootled on the lap-top for a little while, then tried to move… and couldn’t.
I think I might have overdone it today. But this is silly. A walk round the woods, McDinner, and painting three fence panels. I can’t really do much less in a day, can I?

12 March 2024 (Tuesday) - A Bottle of Plonk

Five people on my “Facebook Friends” list had a birthday today. “Facebook Friends” are odd things; only one of these five has made any effort whatsoever to keep in touch over the last few years.
After my usual dull morning routine I set off. I didn't go round the town Points-of-Interest-ing this morning. Instead I drove up the motorway and into Aylesford where I capped a Qrewzee and deployed a carrot on the appropriately named Bailey's bridge. There's never a dull moment when playing Munzee.
 
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how the Princess of Wales has admitted to tweaking up her family photo that was all over the news yesterday. I can't help but feel that real princesses run round in their undercrackers bashing things with a great big sword, and don't ponce around with PhotoShop. That's what real princesses have flunkies for.
And there was a lot of talk about how much vets are charging for their services. It was mentioned this morning that fifteen years ago ninety per cent of UK vets were privately operated. These days most are part of large corporate chains, and don't actually advertise that most or all of the vets in any given area are all part of the same company. They certainly don't advertise that they have a monopoly and so can charge what they like. Back in the day when Sid needed his teeth taking out, “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” shopped around for the best quote, and there was quite a bit of difference in the prices being quoted. But nowadays with every vet being operated by the same bunch, they are all going to quote the same price, safe in the knowledge that they won't be undercut.
Some woman phoned in to the radio this morning claiming she'd just spent seven hundred quid having her dog's teeth cleaned. My cousin is facing a two thousand pounds vet bill at the moment.
Vets have never been cheap (My little Fudge cost me a small fortune towards the end) but their prices are getting rather out of hand.
 
I got to work; there was cake. Chocolate ring donuts. Given a choice, chocolate ring donuts would be a long way down on my list of preferences, but the choice I was given was "have it or go without", so I had one. It was rather good actually.
 
I came home to find “er indoors TM had the builders in. She wants the bathroom doing. I don’t. I want the bathroom done. A subtle difference. The kitchen is rather good now it has been done, but the actual doing was rather painful.
“er indoors TM boiled up a very good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of cheap plonk which was certainly better than stuff three times the price. And with dinner scoffed I shared cheese and biscuits with the dogs. They had biscuits, I had cheese. Sadly just mousetrap. The camembert I’d had my eye on expired three months ago and smelt rather grim.
And again Treacle showed how she understands every word I say. When all the biscuits were gone I said “all gone”. Morgan and Bailey hung around looking hopeful; Treacle immediately went off to sit with “er indoors TM. She understands every word. Treacle that is; not “er indoors TM.