14 April 2013 (Sunday) - At Work

I went to bed shortly after midnight last night with the alarm set for 6.30am. I woke at 5.30am, so that's not bad really.
After I'd done the washing up, I sorted brekkie. Frooty Bix for me, a bowl of milk for Fudge. I've heard that milk's not good for him. I need to do some research. It worries me that he drinks so little for a dog that tiddles so much. If nothing else, giving him milk gets fluid into him.
Once he'd had his milk I terrorised Furry Face for a few minutes before setting off perhaps slightly earlier than I might have done. But Sunday mornings are especially quiet and so are ideal for a spot of lone geocaching on the way to work. A group of people lurking about looking suspicious is nowhere near as dodgy-looking as one person on their own looking suspicious.

There's not many caches left that I haven't found within striking distance of home, but one such was at Wye downs. A rather beautiful spot. I was amazed to find that there was a car in the car park when I pulled up at 7.25am, but the occupants of the car were busy with what they were doing. I won't dwell on what they were up to; suffice it to say that I have heard the practice billed as a cure for tonsillitis.
I did my thing, I quickly found the cache, did the secret geocaching ritual known only to the initiated, hid the thing again, enjoyed the view and was soon back on my way.
In the meantime those in the other car carried on slurping and being slurped, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. I would have thought that 7.25am on a Sunday morning was rather early to have driven up to Wye downs for a nosh. But I expect that those who engage in al-fresco sword swallowing probably think that 7.25am on a Sunday morning was rather early to go looking for plastic boxes.

I then came on to Canterbury via Chartham where I picked up another cache. Geocaches are graded on a D/T scale. D being "difficulty" - how hard the thing is to find, and T being "Terrain" - how hard it is to get to the cache. Both numbers being on a scale of one to five.
This second cache of the morning was rated 1.5/4. Having looked it up I was dubious. A difficulty rating of 1.5 shouldn't be that hard to find, but a terrain rating of four... I have hidden two caches myself which are inside rubber ducks floating in rivers which I have rated as terrain 4. I was expecting to struggle to get at the cache. Would it be up a tree, in a swamp....?
I was wrong - it was easy to get to. Whilst someone in a wheelchair might have had a tricky time, it was certainly accessible by push chairs. I can only imagine that there has been some forest clearance which has taken place since the cache was hidden. Certainly the terrain rating might benefit from a tad of adjustment.

As I drove, the radio was talking of vaguely religious matters, as it often does on a Sunday. There was an argument between two Hindus, one of high caste and one of low caste. Apparently there is legislation in Parliament to make it illegal for those of high caste to discriminate against those of low caste. The chap who was of low caste was all for the legislation, as one might expect. The chap who was of high caste felt the whole thing was silly as no one ever discriminated against him, his family or his social circle. As one might expect. Furthermore he went on to point out (in a rather patronising way) that the whole concept of caste discrimination was nonsense. Apparently it never affects anyone of any importance (!)
It was a sad demonstration of the fact that we need this legislation that the low caste chap's arguments were nowhere near as convincing as the high caste chap's arrogance.

The radio then wheeled on several self-appointed pundits who squabbled about the personal religion of Margaret Thatcher. Apparently Mag Thatch had announced that she was Christian, and had also made it known that she felt very deeply about her religious convictions. Some of the pundits defended her position, others attacked it. None with any real credibility. Did she have a deep religious belief? I don't know. Does anyone ever know if someone else actually believes in their professed religion or is just going through the motions because it is expected of them. Like I used to.
And then it was time for the radio's Sunday service. I've whinged about the broadcasted Sunday services in the past. I'm not keen on the happy-clappy form of worship; preferring something rather more traditional myself. However there is a fine line between "traditional" and "dreary". Today's service had crossed that line.

And so to work. As I'd driven the scenic way to work through various country lanes I had encountered several floods. The usual suspects were off walking dogs today (and looking for tupperware too). I exchanged a few texts during the day if only to see what I was missing. They'd gone to Bedgebury - where I went last Wednesday. It was rather wet underfoot in places a few days ago. Much as I like being out and about, judging by the floods I'd driven through this morning I think that were I to have picked a weekend to work, this might have been one of the better ones. And the wind was rather excessive at times. Walking when it's blowy is no fun.
I kept telling myself that as the day went on.

And so home where I caught up with yesterday's episode of Doctor Who. It could have been a good episode. I fell asleep...

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