21 December 2014 (Sunday) - Bit Tired

I set off for work early last night hoping for a First to Find on my way.... (it's a hunting tupperware thing). I got to where I was supposed to be easily enough; only taking a fifteen miles detour. I found somewhere corresponding to the description I'd been given. I searched for twenty minutes until an interfering busybody came bustling over and asked me if she could ask me what I was doing. I said she could; and that foxed her.
And then I gave up searching and went on to work.

"Daddies Little Angel TM" phoned me: whilst I'd been on my way to work, someone had tried to nick Sam-I-Am's moped. When doing so they'd been disturbed, and had dropped their bank cards. That should give the police an easy nick - it only took a few minutes with the bank card to find the miscreant's mother on Facebook.

One of the good things about being on my own on the night shifts is I can have the radio on; not many people will admit to liking listening to Radio Four. My heart fell when the evening's first program was a pretentiously high-brow discourse about the Prokofiev's classic musical work "Peter and the Wolf". I say "classic"; I thought it was dreadful when it was forced on me at school years ago, and hasn't improved in the meantime.
There was then a radio play about King Arthur. Unlike the TV show "Merlin" (which was basically the same tale) there was no mention of Sir BigTits. Mind you I suppose Sir BigTits doesn't work quite so well on the radio, but I can't help but think that they could have had a go. Mind you Sir Lancelot "lanced a lot" with Guinevere so I can't say they didn't serve up a dose of smut.
The Reith Lectures then bleated on about they way in which medical professionals work, calling for greater transparency about their performance; all but advocating witch-hunts, and completely avoiding the sad topic of the problems of recruitment that such a culture of blame would cause.
A quiz about things musical, an elegy for a dead poet, some so-called comedy, some new-age hippie-drivel for the solstice, the shipping forecast, and then my attention drifted somewhat as Radio Four joined the BBC's World Service at 1am.

I did my bit until the relief arrived shortly before 8am, and then I came home. And again (still) listened to Radio Four as I went. Being the last Sunday before Christmas I was hoping for a nice uplifting carol service on the radio. Instead there were old farts squalling dirges. I put on a CD instead

Once home I made myself some brekkie, sat down with it in front of the telly, and woke up two hours later. I then took "Furry Face TM" round to the park where the lumberjacks have finished hacking away all trees, shrubs and plants from around the river. I suppose there is a reason for what they've done; but I can't help but think that they've been rather extreme.
Once home we went down to Folkestone to see the baby. He's growing so much - he can now support himself when he sits up. I wound Charlie up a little; we went shopping in Folkestone's cheapo-bargains shop, and then I slept on the sofa for a little.

We came home, pausing only briefly to pay a flying visit to Lisa, and then I set about solving geo-puzzles. There's a major walk planned for New Year's Day. I have a theory that if on the walk I make a great fuss about having solutions for the easier puzzles, everyone else will automatically assume I've also solved the more difficult ones and give me the solutions which I shall say that "Furry Face TM" has eaten.
It's a good plan; my amphibious associate has been using it for a couple of years...

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