10 December 2017 (Sunday) - Dinner with Nick
I slept reasonably well, finally giving up and going to the loo shortly after 7am. The rain against the kitchen window was torrential, and it continued as I scoffed brekkie.
As I scoffed I had a look at the Internet. I had some emails; four of which told me the same news. Namely that the geo-meet I had planned for February had received the thumbs-up from the geo-feds.
I just have to hope people turn up to my meeting now…
Mind you, it seemed odd that the automated system should give me four notifications of the same thing; particularly when the automated notification I have set up to tell me about new geocaches only works (at best) two thirds of the time.
Geo-HQ *really* need to have a look at what they are playing at. Over the summer they put a lot of effort into setting up an algorithm which pissed off people all over the world, and just recently they were fannying about in a co-operative fanny-about with the “Magic: The Gathering” card game. Meanwhile you can’t realistically do the hobby (which is their business) without resorting to third-party providers. I can’t help but think they need to sort out their core business before doing anything else.
I also saw something on Facebook which rather wound me up as I devoured my toast. The pro-Brexit brigade were advertising about a project funded by the EU (eight years ago) featuring a blogging donkey. The outer-s felt that the blogging donkey was a waste of money. I suppose it was a waste of money, but then so was the monster-thingy created to raise awareness of workplace pensions, and the UK government spent two million quid more on that than the blogging donkey cost, and no one complained about that.
I then spent two hours playing Tetris. What a waste of time.
Once the dogs got up and had their brekkies I walked them round the roads. The day was cold and wet, but they wanted to go for a little wander. But only a little one. Today wasn’t the sort of day for the walks we usually go on.
As we walked Treacle ate something disgusting. I wonder what it was?
"er indoors TM" went shopping; I played more Tetris. When she came home we settled the pups and set off to the Medway Towns. Earlier in the day Facebook had been alive with photos of the snow. We’d had no snow in Ashford, but we’d had serious rain. And the rain returned as we drove up the motorway.
As we drove through Maidstone we could see there had been snow there, but surely the rain would wash it away?
We got to the Waggon at Hale, and had a pint. Then ten of us settled down for a rather good dinner courtesy of a good friend. We started off with broccoli and stilton soup. Really good. I glanced out of the window and saw the snow was getting rather heavy.
Then Sunday roast was served up. Some had the beef. I didn’t I had the turkey (and sprouts) because everyone knows the baby Jesus was born in a turkey manger on a sprout farm. Oh; it was so good. A third pint, then strawberry meringue. I did look at some of the other desserts, but I think I made the right choice. The others looked heavier and by that stage I was feeling pleasantly replete (that’s posh for “stuffed”). A glass of port, and I soon dozed off. Twice.
Snow, decent ale, Christmas crackers, turkey dinner… it really was looking a lot like Christmas. We had a very good dinner; it was great catching up with friends. I explained how we were having dinner (lunch is for girls, the posh, and ploughmen); we talked about how often we bought flowers for the ladies (do pineapples count?). When I got up this morning I was feeling a little bit “meh!”, but this afternoon was definitely “not too shabby” (to quote the first fruit of my loin). There are photos of what happened here.
Fortunately the snow had subsided by the time we had to set off homewards. Snow is all very well to look at (through a window) but driving through the stuff can be tricky. I *think* the journey home was OK; I slept through it.
Once home the dogs joined in the fun; having been given far too much beef, "er indoors TM" brought her left-overs home for them. They like beef.
I then had to referee their squabbles. The house is awash with chew toys and marrow bones, and sometimes Fudge gets possessive and wants the lot. He will take every single one from the puppy, and having taken one, he then has no interest in it. He had a toy. He dropped it and took the puppy’s. The puppy picked up another; so he wanted it. And so it went on.
I had words with him.
"er indoors TM" is off bowling in a minute. I shall sleep in front of the telly. Again…