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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