24 August 2010 (Tuesday) - Another Day Off

Another day off work, but still I was up before 7am. A quick bit of brekkie, then I wasted an hour in NeverWinter. I’ve now finished a game that’s kept me out of mischief for a month – I need to look for another one now. There’s three thousand up at the NeverWinter Vault; that should keep me going for a while.

The phone rang - plumbers would seem to be akin to buses; not a sniff for ages, then two call back at once. I’ve arranged for the one who got back to me the quickest to service my boiler. And by an amazing co-incidence he knows me – he’s the boyfriend of one of the girls at work.

With washing out on the line, together with “Daddies Little Angel TMI set off for Beaver Water World near Westerham. When the brats were small, this place was a regular haunt, despite the fact that neither of them could remember it. You’d think they’d remember – “Lewis” the Burmese python came from there a long time ago. Mind you we’ve not been there for ten years or more. It was a good place to visit, outside there were terrapins, lemurs, and all sorts of birds. A novelty was that many of the bird enclosures had rabbits and guinea pigs on the floors. Inside was what we’d gone to see; snakes and lizards, turtles and tortoises, and even a caiman. There were three albino Burmese pythons (just like my “Buffy” was) and the most adorable monitor lizard; who would want a dog when you could have a monitor lizard?

If any of my loyal readers fancy a day out, I can thoroughly recommend the place but (there’s always a but, isn’t there!) I’ve always been a reptile kind of guy. To be honest you’ll see all the place has to offer in less than an hour. If you don’t like reptiles, I really wouldn’t bother (after all, I wouldn’t’ visit a spider zoo). There was a silly old bat there today who was looking into every enclosure, and then screaming in terror. What was that all about? If you know you don’t like this sort of animal, why go?

On the way back we did our best to upset the sat-nav, and as I parked the car I saw an ex-cub walking down the road. I recognised the surly little git. I remembered him distinctly - he was a particularly nasty child. When playing ball games he would make a point of throwing the ball over a fence just to spoil things. If some other child was (for whatever reason) the centre of attention, this horrible oik would do anything (including assaulting other children) to draw attention back to himself. The brat recognised me. His evil expression changed into one of “butter-wouldn’t-melt” and he said hello. Before I could say anything his mother started a tirade at me about why he hadn’t been to cubs for a few weeks, he just won’t go, she tries to make him, but he won’t go. I asked the mother if she’d realised I’d not been there myself for nearly two years, and I told her that from what I remembered of her foul child that cubs would be far better without him being there. I added that it was because of brats like him that after thirteen years of being a leader I packed up. She clearly wasn’t listening to a word I said, and she carried on blathering inanely about her little darling. I walked away. Like I did two years ago.

A quick sandwich and then me and the most recent fruit of my loin went fishing. I’ve been fishing on three consecutive days now. We had a minor problem with the weather. Rather than taking my fishing gear I should have taken the kites; it was that windy. My apprentice caught twice as many fish as I did, including one that needed the landing net: her first bream. For those of my loyal readers who aren’t of a piscatorial bent, bream are slimy. Very slimy. We had words to say on the subject of bream….

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