21 December 2010 (Tuesday) - Stuff

Regular readers of this drivel may recall a blog entry a few weeks ago (26 November) when I mentioned that I was feeling the urge to take up astro-photography. Regular readers may also recall a recent blog entry (14 December) when I failed utterly in my attempt to see the Geminid meteor shower because of the clouds. Or two comets earlier in the year for much the same reason.

 This morning there was a lunar eclipse. Starting at 6.30am, with totality at 7.41 am I was hopeful. After all, sunrise wasn’t until 8am. I got up to find thick fog. I *know* I shouldn’t have been surprised about this.

To work, through the slush. We’d had rain overnight, and now we have what I consider is the worst part of snow. After the heavy snow there is a week of slush everywhere. Work was good – Santa came to visit. As well as a good goosing off of Santa, I got a personalised jar of sweeties. I was assured I’d have a photo of me and Santa for today’s blog. I haven’t. Maybe tomorrow…

And home to find a message on the telephone’s 1571 circuit. Jez Smithson of 721 Letsby Avenue is having problems with his dog Pickle. Pickle has a neck condition, and Jez wondered if I would take on Pickle. He (Jez, presumably) has full information about Pickle’s medical history from the last vet, who was worse than useless. Jez is quite happy to pass on the medical history, and despite what I might have been told by the debt collection agency, Jez can afford to pay for Pickle’s treatment. Jez left me all the information I would ever need about him - name, address, phone numbers, bank details, and said if I wanted or needed to know anything else I had only to call him.

I phoned Jez, and suggested that he might be better off phoning a vet. When I explained that I wasn’t a vet, Jez concurred with me. I’m sure Pickle will think it’s all for the best.

Talking of dogs, the dog has followed the cat’s example and has secreted himself in a truck. His disguise isn’t foolproof, and the more eagle-eyed may just have spotted him.

ICUP isn’t impressed. Whilst ICUP’s opinion on pussies is yet to be decided, unlike your erstwhile narrator, ICUP doesn’t like puppies.