5 August 2013 (Monday) - Stuff
An early start; I was up clearing more of the weekend's washing up at 5.30am. It's amazing how much washing up you can generate when you put your mind to it. And even more amazing how long it takes to shift the stuff. Over brekkie I watched lame DVDs with my dog. He seemed especially subdued this morning. Either too much sun or too much barbecue food over the weekend has taken its toll on him. Probably a combination of the two. Poor little pup. Either that or Blake's Seven has a particularly soporific effect on Patagonian Tripe-Hounds.
And so to work. As I drove I listened to the news as I do, There wasn't much of note other than that tensions would seen to be rising on the border between Spain and Gibraltar. Mind you as the pundits on the radio pointed out it is extremely unlikely that the UK and Spain will go to war over the matter. The status of Gibraltar is something over which the British and Spanish have been squabbling for centuries. The petty bickering is unlikely to finish any time soon.
I stopped off at Morrisons to get the makings of lunch. I also got a bottle of port whilst I was at it. That should come in handy for the weekend. I endeavoured to find out what the plans were for the weekend. Back when Teston kite festival was under the original management we could have gone up on the Thursday and made a long weekend of it. Now we are effectively wasting a day's leave on Thursday whilst we wait for the gate to be opened on the Friday morning. And then what was the most enjoyable day of the event - the Friday - will be spent doing all the hard work of setting up camp.
Once at work I did my thing. I hadn't been there long when I got a text - back at the ranch "Daddies Little Angel TM" was in residence and she texted to tell me that "Furry Face TM" had been sick. Again. I thought he didn't seem his normal self earlier. I shall have to keep an eye on him. Mind you it wasn't long before another text came in saying that she'd taken both dogs for a walk and Fudge had somehow got fox poo on his head. If he's well enough to be playing in fox poo he can't be that ill. That dog does love the fox dung.
As I did my thing at work the burning issue of the day was what would you rather be - mermaid or pirate? For me there was no choice. On the one hand you could be rather foxy and muck around in the water. On the other hand you could wipe your bum with a hook.
I came home a rather circuitous route via Selling railway station. I wanted to carry on my streak of a geocache a day all the time I can. It was only on arrival at Selling that I realised that the cache has had some "didn't find it" logs recently; including one from the bloke who hid it,
I found it though.