8 July 2014 (Tuesday) - 96

I was reliably informed that "Furry Face TM" had two woofing fits in the night. I didn't hear him; I was asleep. I slept for seven hours last night. It was probably because of all his woofing that I breakfasted alone today.

Off to work; as I drove I listened to the radio. The pro-Scottish independence brigade were having a bitter whinge because, should they gain independence, the rest of the UK isn't going to throw money at them any more. Specifically shipbuilding; future Royal Navy ships won't be built in a foreign Scotland. The pro-independence bunch weren't at all happy about this revelation and tried to come up with historical precedents about how it is OK to trust your milatary capabiliities to someone else. And they weren't at all happy to be told by the Ministry of Defence's spokesman to suck it up; an independent Scotland won't get shipbuilding contracts (and that was the end of it!)

There was also concern expressed about the recruitment crisis in the caring professions (especially teaching). Bearing in mind that for every genuine case of child abuse which is brought to the police there seem to be several dozen taken to opportunistic compensation lawyers, fewer and fewer people want to leave themselves with any possibility of being sued by an ungrateful public.

I did my bit at work, blew my sax at lunch time, and came home. Our evening walk could have gone better; I wish certain other dog owners wouldn't try to round up every other dog they see. Having gathered my dog (and one or two others) into their fold these two women walked to the far end of the park with their canine entourage before realiseing that no other dog owner was following them. They shouted up the park to tell us that they were going that way. I shouted back to say we weren't, and would they like or dogs' leads?

Home again; I saw something which reminded me of the halcyon days of yore. Star Trek plimsolls. Take your average plimsoll, stick on a picture of a Star Trek badge. Eighty five pounds... Fools and their money are still soon parted.

Being Tuesday the clans gathered, today in Queen Street (oo-er!) Having seen all of Merlin we thought we'd try a new TV show. The 100 is... well, you can read all about it on-line. It has one or two (rather substantial) plot holes, and bearing in mind the show's name refers to how many of them there are, by the end of the first episode we were down to ninety-six.
But I've seen far worse on the telly. "Lost" and "Heroes" were far lamer...

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