25 November 2015 (Wednesday) - Shaddap You Face

I woke rather early this morning from a particularly vivid dream in which I had recently moved to a rather salubrious part of town called "Posh B*stard Estate" and had been forced to make emabrassingly polite small talk with a whole load of chinless wonders. It was horrible.
On waking I could hear next door's baby gurgling and people singing "Happy Birthday". One of the sad things about the fruits of my loin having grown up and left home is that birthdays don't start before 5am any more. Mind you one of the sad things about having a Patagonian Tripe-Hound is that most days seem to start before 5am.
Said Patagonian Tripe-Hound was sitting with me as I scoffed my brekkie. He was half asleep; dozing contentedly (as he does) when suddenly and for no reason he leapt up and ran around barking. I often wonder what goes through his head.
Talking of what goes through heads, for some reason the song "Shaddap You Face" was stuck in my head this morning. It didn't seem to want to go anywhere. So I posted it to Facebook and took "Furry Face TM" for his morning constiutional. Yesterday I mentioned I wasn't feeling on top form; this morning I was certainly feeling a bit under the weather as we walked. It was probably just as well that nothing much of note happened this morning.

Shortly after coming home the phone rang. The phone display said "International" so I knwo it was someone trying to con me. I answered the phone fully intending to waste their time (I do that) but the person at the other end of the line merely shouted "Carling" half a dozen times and then hung up. I wonder what that was all about.

As I left home I had a look at the humungous geocache which sits in my front garden. At the weekend Gordon told me the lock didn't work. I had a go; sure enough the lock seemed jammed.
This is a "clever cache" it took loads of brain power to devise and cost me over forty quid to actually create. It's been found less than ten times and is now broken. I shall squirt the lock with WD40 but I suspect it is not going to come off unless I use bolt cutters.
Again the more effort that goes into making a "clever cache", the shorter the thing actually lasts.

As I drove to work there was an interview on the radio. The pundits were talking to some supposedly famous historian who was discussing his biography. He referred to one stage of his life as "bleak" because at the time he had small children. That annoyed me; small children is the best of times. So I turned the radio off and sang along to Ivor Biggun's rude songs instead.
Braving the traffic jams I finally arrived in Folkestone where I spent a little while with grand-son before making my way to work. Work wasn't especially taxing today; in fact it was rather dull. But eventually it was home time.

Once home I considered taking "Furry Face TM" round the roads. But he's had a good run today. I'll take him out in the morning when we can see what's going on...

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