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.
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