I woke very breathless in the small hours. My CPAP machine was doing its best, but there is only so much it can do. Another nasal re-bore is looking to be required. Mind you I was pleased to find my little dog curled up at my feet. It is some weeks since he last spent the night on the bed; he must be on the mend.
Over brekkie I watched the episode of “Dad’s Army” which the SkyPlus box had kindly recorded for me. In today’s episode Captain Mainwairing and his troops were running around dressed as Nazi paratroopers in an episode which (whilst rather predictable) was rather entertaining.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were wittering on as they do. They are now of the opinion that the aliens that the Russians discovered yesterday aren't aliens at all. Various possibilities were mentioned for what the Russians might have actually discovered; the leading contender seems to be a dodgy microwave oven in their observatory's staff room. Whilst this may well be the case, it rarely turns out to be so on Star Trek. Could you imagine Captain Picard being told it *wasn't* the Romulans after all, but Worf's cheese toastie?
And our old friend Science has declared that dogs *do* understand what humans say to them. This is hardly news. Dogs are clever creatures. (Some cleverer than others). I am sure my little dog understands every word I say to him. He doesn't take much notice of what I say, but he understands it.
I remembered to stop off at Morrisons to get fruit, and then went on to the early shift. During a tea break I phoned my GP to see if they could refer me back to the ENT people for another nasal re-bore. They said they would so now I’m waiting on the specialists again. Having had a look-see on the Internet this might be a regular thing every couple of years from here on in for me.
I had a grim day at work, but my little dog seemed pleased to see me what I came home. We went round the park and for the first time in three weeks we walked our usual complete circuit of the park without him coming home in pain. Whilst we were out he tried to pork an Irish Setter, and tiddled up the art nouveau.
And I'll close today on a note of disappointment. Some time ago I (yes me!) had a plan that the astro club might build its own observatory. The idea was snapped up by the (at the time) committee and quickly taken off my hands. Today is exactly three years to the day since the astro club formally announced its plans to build that observatory.
Initially there was a lot of excitement and talk; no one was more keen about the idea than me. We had all sorts of suggestions for sites, offers of building materials, plans drawn up, and a special sub-committee full of enthusiastic people who were raring to go. But since the council hijacked the idea the project has stagnated and is now realistically dead in the water. I've heard nothing about the scheme for a year. Three years ago we could have done something great, but the enthusiasm and interest that was rampant (from so many quarters) then is non-existent now.
Such a shame... it could have been something wonderful.
I had a rather restless night; finally giving up trying to sleep at 5.30am. Over brekkie I watched a little telly. Would you believe they’ve re-made “Are You Being Served”? With Gavin from ”Trollied” playing Mr Humphries and Boycie from “Only Fools and Horses” playing Captain Peacock it was absolutely awful. Had they tried to make an up-to-date version then things may well have been different, but using exact replicas of the original sets and with the characters doing impersonations of the original characters it was a shallow echo of the original. The original series was lame, but in a way with panache and style. This re-make was just painful to watch. I hear it is a one-off with no plans to make a complete series. Good!
I then had a little look-see on-line. I had a friend request on Facebook from Birgit Ignacia Sac. (That's her in the photo above). She apparently lives in Ashford and “wants to experience love”. My back’s not up to it, but if any of my loyal readers fancy a nudey-sauce-romp with her, she’d given me a web address. I would post it here but my McAfee web safety wotsit wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole. Interestingly her friend request and her entire profile has since vanished from my in-box. Perhaps she has “experienced love” elsewhere or been banned from Facebook for spamming and spreading malicious links?
I’ve also seen quite a few photos from the camping weekend that has just happened, and it made me realise that with the recent demise of mankybadger dot com I’ve also lost my old BatCamp website. I’ve got it all backed up, and I’ve a plan to bring it all back (slightly re-vamped). If any of my loyal readers have any photos from camping weekends in Smarden over the last eighteen years, please do email them through to me.
It was very foggy as I drove to work this morning. So much so that I nearly ran over a unicyclist who emerged with no warming from the murk. Normal cyclists are bad enough but at least they have the option to put lights on their bikes. Unicycles don't have lights. Or (to be precise) the ones I run over don't.
As I drove I listened to the radio. There was consternation about the refugee camp in Sangatte; it was intimated that what was once an EU problem will soon be seen as a British problem and the thousands of refugees who are now in France may well soon be in Dover. Apparently the Home Secretary is off to France to discuss the matter. Personally I can't see there being much discussion on the matter. I am pretty sure that the refugee camp will close on the day after Brexit with all the inmates being directed right into the Channel Tunnel.
I must admit it boils my piss that so many people are surprised at this.
There was also an interview with a barrister who was concerned that the court case in the radio drama "The Archers" wasn't following proper legal procedure (as if anyone really cares), and the Russians have found some aliens.
I got to work, and just as I pulled up in the car park I realised I'd forgotten to go to Morrisons for apples. I didn't fancy fighting my way through the rush hour traffic to go get some so at tea break I went to the League of Friends shop to get an apple from them.
Their apples didn't look that good - I brought a raspberry flapjack instead.
I coughed rather a lot as I did my bit at work. I seem to have developed a cough. That's a nuisance. I was also very tired today. These nasal polyps need cutting out again so I can get some sleep. I phoned the G.P.; they said to phone back tomorrow.
Once home I took "Furry Face TM" for a walk round the park. As we walked he picked a fight with a cat and tried to hump a greyhound. He’s clearly on the mend.
And then being Tuesday the clans gathered at Somerset Road. Eventually Matt managed to persuade his high-tech gizmo to play some Star Trek. Streaming TV shows is all very well all the time that it works…
Apart from a quick tiddle at 3am I slept for over eight hours last night. I suppose that is the aftermath of two night shifts followed by two nights camping. The air bed I had for camping is currently awaiting the dustbin. In the past I’ve used a self-inflating mattress when camping but it has finally given up the ghost. It was comfortable enough, but it really only worked when on a flat surface. If the ground underneath it was uneven, so was it. I need to figure out my sleeping arrangements for next year’s camping. Air beds are all very well they maintain air pressure, but are a faff to inflate. I’m wondering if "My Boy TM" still has that cot thing he used to take on his weekend fishing missions.
I set the washing machine loose on some clothes, and over brekkie I watched an episode of “Game of Thrones”. A rather good episode; Nudey-Dragon-Girl kept her clothes on, but others didn’t take quite such a moral stance. And I was hanging washing out on the clothes line before 7.30am.
I then watched last night’s episode of “The Last Ship” as the washing machine chewed my undercrackers. The first two seasons of this series were really good; the search for a cure to a deadly world-wide plague. But the third season seems to have lost its way; it is now a cross between a political drama and an arcade shoot-em-up.
As the sun came out I went to feed the Koi. It was a lovely morning. I must admit that part of me wanted to be at camp. It would have been beautiful at the farm this morning. But it would also have been hard work, and I had other work to do today; and the tumble drier had done its wonders on my pants.
So I psyched myself up to go to work by watching an episode of “South Park” whilst sorting my undercrackers. I had hoped my washing would also have been dry before I left for work, but perhaps that was a little optimistic.
With a little time on my hands this morning I left for work earlier than I might have done and did a little shopping on the way. I stopped off at Chartham Garden Centre. The people in the aquatic shop there had been so good with the pond's new filtration system, so I'd rather spend my money with them than elsewhere. I've been after flocculent for some time; they'd always been expecting some soon. Until today. Today they sang a different tune. Apparently it is now the end of the pond season and they won't be getting any in until next year. I didn't know ponds had seasons. I shall have to go elsewhere to get flocculent. It's a shame there's not that many pond shops about. But whilst I was in the garden centre I had a cup of coffee and a cream cake. I deserved it.
As I devoured my cake the women at the next table were slagging off a mutual friend of theirs. This friend was known to all and sundry as "Mrs Bra". Mind you, whilst I say "slagging off" the two old women weren't actually dishing much dirt on Mrs Bra. They merely would take it in turns to loudly shout "Oh that Mrs Bra" and then take a gulp of tea whilst the other would take a sharp intake of breath whilst looking shocked. It was all rather entertaining; I couldn't work out whether "Mrs Bra" was someone's actual name or a pseudonym, but whatever it was, it was being declared very loudly.
I then went to the cheapo-bargains shop and got cross with them. I wanted a new USB charger for my phone which would fit into my car's cigarette lighter socket. They had a loose one on the shelf. But no others. So I picked that up and took it to the till where I queued for fifteen minutes whilst the most hopeless till operative in the world dealt with the most troublesome customers in the world. When I finally got to the head of the queue the woman at the till flatly refused to sell me the charger, but instead rang her bell to call for assistance. Some spotty oik came over who took me back to the electrical section where he had just started stocking the shelves with boxed versions of what I wanted. I could *not* have the loose one. I *had* to buy one in a box. I *had* to queue up again. And as I followed the spotty oik about the aisles so my trouser pocket caught on a shelf in the shop and ripped open.
I rather lost my temper. I told spotty that I was going to spend my money in a shop that wasn't entirely useless and I went to Staples where I bought the same thing for twice the price.
Having ripped my trousers open I thought I'd go back to Go Outdoors and have a whinge. This was the second pair of these trousers I've bought from them that have ripped with minimum provocation. The knee on the first pair ripped open when I knelt on the ground when rescuing Sid from Singleton Lake.
The nice lady in Go Outdoors did giggle when I asked for a pair of trousers which wouldn't "go tits up if I so much as fart". She was rather apologetic, but apparently "going tits up" this is a feature of the "cheap and nasty" range. If I want trousers which won't burst open willy-nilly I need to spend a little more.
I've bought a pair of trousers costing thirty quid rather than a tenner; let's see how long they last.
And so to work. It was surprisingly busy…