22 June 2015 (Monday) - Late Shift
Yesterday when on the way from the kite festival to Beckenham we drove past a lump of rock (virtually) attached to which was an Earthcache. We (I) took two minutes to do the secret geo-thing, and this morning as I did the secret on-line geo-rituals I saw that I'd got an e-souvenir for my troubles. Every summer Geocaching dot com organise various e-souvenirs and now I've got the first of this year's haul.
I then uploaded photos from yesterday and laughed at the crackpots from MessageToEagle dot com; apparently they've found a pyramid which dates from before the time of dinosaurs. I ahd a look at some of the photos from the weekend's sci-fi day which had been staged in Herne Bay. In years gone by I would have gone to that. But then again in years gone by I would probably have gone to the weekend's beer festival as well.
There's so many events on over the summer weekends and more and more I find myself looking at them thinking "been there, done that". I'm getting very cynical like that as I get older...
I then checked emails, and generally wasted some time on-line. I had some time to waste... despite a really busy weekend I was still wide awake two hours earlier than I needed to be this morning.
As I pootled on line I had all of my toast to myself for once. My little dog was noisily chomping on his bone. At Saturday's dog show and fete I bought him a bone which is almost as big as he is, and it seems to be keeping him occupied. He likes chewing on it, but he doesn't do it quietly. (And it doesn't do much for his farts either)
I wasn't keen on going for a walk this morning; it was raining. But it's difficult to explain meteorological reluctance to a fractious Patagonian Tripe-Hound so we braved the elements and walked in a short circular stroll past the local horses.
It was as well that "Furry Face TM" was on his lead; he tried to fly at a motorbike and then at a car. I wish he wouldn't. Over one hundred years ago Jerome J Jerome described terriers as "quarrelsome" and in the intervening years little would seem to have changed about the breed. Much as I won't hear a word against him, sometimes the word "quarrelsome" describes my little dog perfectly.
And so to work. I took a detour to Folkestone to visit the smallest member of the family (and his mother).
As I drove the radio was spouting utter rubbish about how architecture reflects the political climate in which it is made; the implication being that Conservative governments build mansions and workhouses whilst Labour governments build high-rise flats. I turned it off and put on awful music instead.
I say "awful music"; I quite like it. No one else seems to though.
Once in Folkestone I had a cuppa, and had my laces undone by the littlun. He can now climb the stairs, and does so if left unsupervised for more than one second.
I didn't stay as long as I usually do; I had shopping to get from Morrisons as well as needing petrol too. I also had a look in Go Outdoors hoping they would have a six-metre pole for the astro club's banner (to replace the one which broke at the weekend). They didn't.
I got to work for the late shift, did it, and came home. The weather had cheered up somewhat during the day but had become somewhat dismal for home time. As I drove home this evening the radio was actually quite interesting (in contrast to this morning). There was an expose on how attractive young women are using their wiles to exploit rich older men. Obviously this isn't a new idea, but it's becoming amazingly widespread (apparently)
This struck a chord; over the last few weeks I've noticed several really expensive-looking sports cars flying up and down the A28 driven by men clearly ten (or more) years older than me accompanied by young women clearly five (or more years younger than my daughter. Personally I think it's rather sad, but in much the same way that my dog wants to fight with motorbikes, quite a few older men shamelessly sniff round younger women (given half a chance). It's simply the nature of the beast(s); it's just what they do. (Don't get me wrong - I'm not condoning it, or excusing it; just pointing out a simple fact)
It was interesting listening to the young women being interviewed; some of their "clients" want sex; some just want company. They pay someone to pretend to be their friend.
But whatever they want they are prepared to pay between five hundred and a thousand pounds for an evening's time.
If I was an attractive young woman I would have no qualms in taking advantage of this obviously lucrative gaap in the market.
Mind you if some attractive young lady gave me the come-on I doubt if I'd be up for it. I'd honestly prefer a kebab... as I told the one who was wearing the saucy suspender belt and the fake smile (and nothing else) at the strip club this time last year.