12 April 2018 (Thursday) - More Stuff
I had a restless night; whatever it is I've pulled in my abdomen was tender. I didn't do my usual morning workout this morning as it hurt too much, Instead I scoffed toast whilst watching The Mighty Boosh who were having a Nanageddon. As they do.
I had a quick look at the Internet - some epically breasted young lady had sent me a friend request on Facebook. That was a result; even if I did reject her advances (and Facebook deleted her account only an hour later). And then I checked my emails. Last Sunday I complained to the BBC about how the weather forecast they give on their website, radio and television are always contradicting each other. This morning they sent me a generic reply which made it very obvious that they hadn’t actually read a word of the complaint I’d sent them. So I sent another complaint which complained that they had sent “standard reply to complaints about weather forecasts #1” and I asked if they would address my original complaint.
I set off (rather earlier than usual) through a foggy morning to the petrol station where the remarkably attractive grannie only had one admirer. Mind you what her admirers lacked in numbers they more than made up for in awkwardness. This chap had parked his car to effectively block all traffic around the petrol station. I suppose that is one way to get rid of the competition.
I eventually got a tankful, and set off to work. As I drove the pundits were talking about a looming crisis in the Chinese blood donation system. There were several issues which I think were being over-simplified. But how can a hospital have no blood? Do patients *really* have to go out shopping for the stuff? I might slate the NHSBT (look it up!) but it ain't a bad old body when you compare it to the alternatives.
There was also a lot of talk about how the Home Office is dealing with immigrants applying for residential status in the UK. I'm getting rather fed up with the topic. It is patently obvious that society in Britain will collapse without immigrants doing pretty much all the jobs that the British won’t or can’t do (from cleaners to surgeons), but still there is the widespread feeling that immigrants are only here in the UK to get dole handouts. I suspect that this feeling is being fostered by those who see immigrants as possible competition for their dole handouts, but I could be wrong. Or uncharitable. Or both.
I'd left home early. Yesterday I'd failed to find a geocache. Today I had a clue, which is more than I often have... Yesterday I'd got to the village sign where the instructions said to go. I had to look at the sign and count the various thingies on it, then sit down and ponder. Having counted the various thingies and sat down, I could see the numbers of the thingies I'd just counted clearly etched onto the traffic lights on the nearby road island. So, seeing the obvious, yesterday I'd wasted quarter of an hour on that road island looking for something that wasn't there.
Today I had a better idea what to do with the numbers of the thingies I'd counted. I did the calculations and worked out that the geocache would be right in the middle of a school.
That was clearly wrong.
I had a little think and (after deliberately mis-spelling "Ditton") came up with what might have been a plausible idea. There was a minor hiccup as I drove off in the wrong direction. I eventually managed to turn round, and five hundred yards up the road I found myself at what turned out to be another wrong place.
I've since found out that there are serious errors in the way the final location of this sandwich box is calculated, and (armed with what I am assured is the right answer) I may well go back for a third attempt tomorrow.
I got to work, and did my bit. Over a tea break I found myself embroiled in an interesting squabble. Someone with whom I work was talking about the Lord of the Rings books.
Have you ever read them?
This chap hadn't, but maintained they were "a classic". I've read them. They are crap. The first time I thought they were tedious to the point of being excruciating, and the second time was because I thought I'd give the books a second chance (and wished I hadn't).
For over thirty years I have maintained that the books told a reasonable (if not original) story, but would be far better if several hundred pages shorter and with several hundred fewer adjectives. I was told that i was wrong, and who was I to disrespect "a classic".
Once home we walked the dogs round the block. They were *far* better behaved than they were yesterday. I then fed the fish; that pond is surprisingly clear.
"er indoors TM" is at craft club. The dogs are asleep. I *really* should do some CPD…