23 July 2013 (Tuesday) - Wasp Sting

There was quite some storm last night. I spent much of it listening out for "Furry Face TM". On the one hand I was worrying about how he would react. On the other I've heard that it's best not to fuss dogs during storms or they get the idea something is wrong. I needn't have worried. "Furry Face TM" slept through it. Unlike most of humanity if the morning's reports on Facebook are anything to go by.

"Daddies Little Angel TM" arrived and wasn’t happy. Sid has had the thumbs-down from the vets. He’s officially a porker and needs to lose weight. Bless him. Lisa then arrived and we all set off. "Daddies Little Angel TM" and Sid were dropped off on the way to visit Sarge – the Jack Russell who “bakes a moist sponge and is good with colours”. Lisa and I went on to take Fudge for a walk. First of all round Westwell to check that her series of geocaches were all well. They were. We then went on into Hoads Wood for one last check. It was here that the heavens opened. We got soaked. We were all dripping when we got back to the car. But as we were already wet we thought we’d continue. Up into Charing where we walked along the North Downs way for a little bit. We found three geocaches and a wasps nest. Unfortunately I got to claim ”smug mode” on the wasps nest. When geocaching one often rams one’s hand into all sorts of crevices. Perhaps I’ve got too blasé about doing so. I got stung off of a wasp.
By the time I’d got soaked by ferns (which were seven feet high), and stung, and marched up and down the North Downs we decided to call it a day. So we went home. "Daddies Little Angel TM" was fast asleep on the sofa. I kicked her awake and sent her to bed, had a shower, and watched some DVDs. And then I checked my emails.
Oh dear…

Regular readers of this drivel may realise that I regularly go on walks of series of geocaches. Such walks often have their distances published. I’ve commented from time to time that these published distances are usually seriously underestimated. I made such a comment about one such cache series in this blog a little while ago and the person who owns those caches has taken offence. Those in our party with hand held GPS units measured the walk in question as being just under nine miles. Two independent measurements made as we did the walk came up with that figure. However I have been told (rather rudely) by the person hiding those caches that the actual distance was just over six miles (as measured on a map from the comfort of someone’s living room). Furthermore I have been challenged to provide details of our exact route to explain how we came up with such a clearly inaccurate figure (!)

I don’t mind people taking issue with what I’ve written. I welcome people commenting and challenging. If nothing else it shows me that someone’s actually reading this drivel. However there is a world of difference between a tone which implies “I disagree with you for the following reasons…” and one which all but says “you’re wrong dogbreath, sort it out!”
I found this little episode rather vexing as it was from the same person who doesn’t respond to my emails about problems with their caches, and who feels I am wrong to log trackables in a timely fashion.

I can just see where this is going. I have responded politely, explaining that we took the obvious route according to ordnance survey maps, but I just know that was a waste of time. Some geocachers get very uppity when you dare to suggest anything might be awry with co- ordinates or distances. I can see I am going to be formally ordered to amend logs or blogs or face log deletion.
I might as well start amending the logs in question now.
I like geocaching. It’s a fun walk in the countryside. But the administrative recording of what you’ve done is nothing but hard work. Whatever you write as a log is wrong. If you don’t write enough, people complain. If you write too much, people whinge. If you don’t express ample amounts of undying gratitude that someone has hidden a sandwich box in a gorse bush you never hear the end of it. Up until now I have always logged a standard platitude with a link to this blog. From now on it will be “TFTC and be flipping happy you got that much!” (to quote the Rear Admiral).

Whilst I was composing my reply to my fellow aficionado of Tupperware, Fudge went mad. Last Friday the recycling bin-men left our recycling bin whilst doing every other one in the street. I was promised they would collect it yesterday. They didn’t. They finally came back to day at 4.30pm, emptied it, and left it blocking the pavement. When I took "Furry Face TM" for a walk yesterday afternoon we couldn’t get up the pavements in Christchurch Road because of the abandoned garden waste bins.
Ashford council’s idea to recycle more waste is very laudable, but the implementation is leaving a lot to be desired.

Being Tuesday the clans gathered - this time in Queen Street. A crafty pint, some badinage, and then I dozed through an episode of Merlin. I like the Tuesday night thing...
My hand is really swollen now. That wasp sting didn't hurt much at the time.

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