12 June 2014 (Thursday) - Bridge

Being on a late start I took "Furry Face TM" round the park for a walk. As we made our way there we avoided a small child (several times) as she wobbled all over the path on her pedal bike. Whilst she did this her mother screamed abuse at her for daring to be wobbling about. I felt rather sorry for the littlun; after all as anyone who's ever cycled will know, cycling at walking pace is very difficult. You do need to go a bit faster to avoid wobbling and/or falling off. And every time this poor child tried to speed up, so her harpie mother started shrieking at her to slow down.
But harpies notwithstanding our walk went well; Fudge enjoyed playing fetch with his new rubber ball. I say "fetch" - when I throw the ball he runs after it and chews it until I catch up with him. What was once a nice ball now has some serious teeth marks in it.

And so off to work for the late shift. I've had this idea that when on a late shift I might lighten the morning by going on a minor geo-mission before work. It was a plan which certainly worked last week. Today I thought I might go on a little geocaching stroll round the village of Bridge. I had a wander of a couple of miles around some rather beautiful scenery. Not a bad way to spend a morning.

As I drove to Bridge there had been an article on the radio about the seventeenth century scientist Robert Boyle. What at first might sound rather dull was actually surprisingly interesting. It would have been better had they interviewed an expert without a speech impediment. Stammers do not make for good radio shows, especially when when when every third word word word is repeated three three three times during the interview interview interview.

As I drove from Bridge there was a program on the radio featuring the unsung heroes who are the wives of those in the diplomatic service. I listened to this with some fascination; but wondered if there was much truth in what they were saying. I shall have to find out from a reliable source. I will be seeing one such in a few weeks time.

My phone rang. The first fruit of my loin was free to take my garden waste to the tip. He seemed somewhat crestfallen to hear I was on the way to work. But I told him where the lawn clippings were, and said he didn't need me to supervise him taking them to the tip. He's got his instructions...
And as I walked from the distant car park towards work there were two unshaven simpletons having a heated conversation at a bus stop. One was shouting "you don't know what the trouble is" to which the other was replying "I'll tell you what the trouble is"; both were repeating their phrase like stuck records.
Personally I didn't know what the trouble was, and I would like to have known what the trouble was; but I didn't have the heart to ask...

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