As I did my abdominal
workout (as dictated by my Home Workout app) I think I twisted more than I intended to when doing Russian twists.
My back has been somewhat twingy today.
With workout done I
watched the first episode of the new season of “Plebs” as I scoffed toast. With Joel
Fry off doing bigger and better things, Stylax is no
more. I wondered how the show would fare without him; it was rather good.
I then had a look at
the Internet. According to one of the 1970s TV Facebook pages I follow,
Mackenzie Crook is to feature in a remake of Worzel Gummidge, and Joe
Pasquale is to star as Frank Spencer in a reboot of Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em. I suppose you
might say that Plebs is following on from where “Up Pompeii” left off… are there no new ideas for television?
And then I checked my
email. I saw that Meet Jethva (?)
wants to add me to his LinkedIn network. I can’t help but wonder who Meet
Jethva is, and why he wants to chum up with me. I had emails suggesting I might
apply for jobs in Essex. And Amazon again suggested I buy that which I’d
already bought from them.
I spent a few minutes
looking at the geo-map. It has been suggested that I might make the French Mega
my ten thousandth geo-find. This takes place in fourteen weeks’ time. If I am
going to have this happen I need to make some geo-plans. I need to find an
average of forty geocaches a week for the next fourteen weeks. Ideally that
will mostly be in long walks at the weekends. Will this come off… time will
tell. It always does.
I set off to work, and
as I drove off of the slip road on to the motorway I was nearly killed by a
lorry of the
Discordia company. Personally (when driving) whenever I come to a
motorway junction at which I am not coming off I move into the middle lane so’s
people can get on to the motorway, rather than driving at a snail’s pace to
block the junction then accelerating directly at cars which have pulled out at
what was a safe distance in front.
As I drove there was
talk on the radio about an expedition to Antarctica to locate Sir
Ernest Shackleton’s lost ship. But it turns out there are legal problems.
Technically the shipwreck is the property of Sir Ernest’s grand-daughter, and
she’s not overly keen on having it messed with.
I got to work, had a
busy day, and came home again. Whilst "er indoors TM" boiled up some
scran I took the hounds round the park. Treacle had the hump that "er
indoors TM" wasn’t with us, and I suppose Fudge *could* have gone slower if he had tried.
As we walked we met a drunk tramp who asked if the dogs
were friendly. I said they most certainly were, and kept going. By the time the
tramp had fallen over and got up again to fuss the dogs, we were fifty yards down
the road.
Being Tuesday the clans gathered. We watched more of the Mars docu-drama,
then put the world to rights. As we do…
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