18 August 2013 (Sunday) - Perry Wood
My little dog is absolutely rubbish at pretending to be asleep. This morning, like most mornings when I come down early, he made a point of not moving from where he had spent the night. He watched me with one eye until he thought that I was looking at him. He then hurriedly closed that eye. But he gave the game away when I walked near him by lifting his leg so I could rub his tummy.
The front end which feigns sleep is always given away by the soppy rear end.
I spent a little while before 6am this morning scanning documents for a colleague. She needed some paperwork scanned so she could email it. I have a scanner, and am glad to be able to help. Everyone was happy.
Scanning took longer than expected so I didn't have time for an episode of Blake and his ever diminishing number (he started off with quite a lot of sidekicks, hangers-on and assorted henchmen you know), so over brekkie I watched re-runs of "Coogan's Run". I quite like Steve Coogan's characterisations; Alan Partridge is a particular favourite of mine.
I set off rather earlier than usual when working on a Sunday. Regular readers of this drivel may recall that there was a particular multi-cache which had been giving me grief over the last few days. And with the ongoing August cache-a-day challenge I needed to get one cache on my way to work. A few days ago I had totally failed with this multi. Yesterday I eventually found the first part, but not the second. Today with a concerted effort and a cacher's eye after ten minutes of rummaging I found what I had been looking for.
Mind you, as is so often the way with this silly hobby, it's not only about finding the tupperware box. This troublesome multi had taken me to Perry Wood. This is somewhere I'd never been before, and would probably never have found if left to my own devices. It's a very scenic place to be, and is somewhere that I could well take a certain small dog for a walk in the near future.
As I drove I listened to the news. Today's news was all a-twitter with revelations that the Metropolitan Police are investigating fresh evidence concerning the death of Diana Princess of Wales.
Interestingly no one seems to know exactly what this new evidence is, or what it proves. She's been dead sixteen years; why can't the media let her go. What on Earth is the point in raking up a court case which cost more than four times the price of Margaret Thatcher's funeral.
Once at work I did my bit, and then I came home again. As I drove the evening's radio show was running down the NHS; specifically the 111 helpline. My piss boiled somewhat. What do people really expect from a phone helpline? If you are truly ill, go to hospital. If you are going to survive till the morning, turn up at the GP surgery ten minutes before they open and demand to be seen. If you just want to talk to someone (which so many of these 111 calls are all about), that's what social media is for.
Bearing in mind how quick the general public are to cast blame and find fault with the NHS is it really surprising tha the vast majority of 111 operatives want to cover their own backs by sending their callers to actually see a doctor there and then?