I got to work and turned the radio on. When I drive to work Radio Four is usually broadcasting news. Overnight they have a wider range of programmes. Some are quite interesting; others not so.
There was very boring half an hour about why Liverpudlians like their scouse accent whilst no one else does.
Michael Buerk led a discussion on the morality of lionising Richard the Third in which some vacuous windbags wouldn't let their lack of any knowledge on the subject stop them spouting twaddle.
I actually answered some of the questions in the quiz "Brain of
Stephen Fry then presented a feature on why the clocks were going forward this evening. I would have been looking forward to this had anyone other than Stephen Fry been presenting it. I've always found him to be somewhat smug and self-obsessed in his manner; however last night he was absorbing and interesting.
You would have thought that in these days of austerity the BBC would have had better things on which to waste the licence fee.
With the night shift done I came home. Yesterday evening before work I'd posted on the
Instead of going out on the usual Sunday walk I then went to bed. Whilst I do like the Sunday walk, bearing in mind the rain, today probably wasn't the best of days to be walking round Bewl Water. I was in bed shortly after 9am, and woke just gone 2pm. With my little dog gone on the walk the house seemed oddly empty, but I took full advantage of his absence to have half an hour on the saxophone. It went well... sort of. Whilst the tune is (I think) recognisable I don't think it's quite as technically accurate as it might be.
I'd known in advance that I would be waking to an empty house, and so I'd arranged for the most recent fruit of my loin to be feeding her old dad this evening. She'd sent a message telling me about bunk beds that needed collecting, so I drove down to Folkestone to do some removal work. We popped round to
We watched "Fawlty Towers" DVDs, had shepherds pie for tea, and then it was time to go to work.
Another night shift...