25 April 2018 (Wednesday) - Early Shift

I *really* hurt when I staggered out of my pit this morning. I must have over-done the gardening yesterday. Mind you that stone bench and those concrete cores were probably just a bit too heavy for me to have moved on my own.
Over brekkie I watched last week's episode of "Gotham" (it was rather good) then wasted ten minutes trying to find what the puppy had done with my shoe before setting off to work.

As I drove the pundits on the radio were telling how the child Alfie Evans’ parents have been given the right to appeal the decision not to let their child ​be taken to Italy. Much as I feel sorry for the boy, having read up on the matter, he seems to have irreversible brain damage and will never have anything approaching a normal life. Is it right to keep him alive? I wish questions like this were a lot more straight-forward than they are.
Purely for myself, I've made it quite clear that if I am ever in that state I want my plug pulling. The pulling of Alfie's plug is not my decision (for which I am very grateful), but those who would be responsible for me if I was ever in that state know full well that I would consider not pulling my plug in those circumstances to be an act of cruelty.

There was also talk on the radio of a young lad who is taking the Home Secretary to court. Being an immigrant himself he feels that people in his position have to wait an unreasonable length of time before the Home Office decided whether or not to give then resident status. He's taking legal steps to get the process speeded up.
In the past I have blogged ad-nauseum about how the country needs immigrant workers, but in this case the chap should shut his rattle and face being put on the next banana boat back home. I'm sorry, but the UK is bending over backwards to help all and sundry, and people who have clearly benefited from this generosity are now taking this piss by using our own legal system against us.
This is *exactly* the sort of thing that fuels the right-wing hate propaganda that so many immigrants face.

Despite the efforts of some rather terrible drivers between junctions seven and five on the M20 motorway I eventually got to work for the early shift. I hadn't been working long when I was assigned my challenge for next month's works bake-off competition. I'm in the bread and pastry category, and I've decided I'm going to have a crack at making a malt loaf.
In celebration of this I had one of the cakes that was on offer at tea time. Two hundred calories for on piddly little apple pie!!

Being on an early shift meant an early finish. As I left work I saw that the geocache not five miles from work (that had gone live half an hour after my shift started) was still unfound. An FTF beckoned. I was unlucky – I was beaten by forty minutes.

Once I got home the dogs demanded a walk; we went round the park and burned off the calories in that apple pie I had this morning. But no more - one pissy little apple pie which took less than a minute to devour took an hour to walk off.
We got home beating the rain by seconds. I went out in just a shirt, and as we came home I closed the door to the start of seriously torrential rain.
That was lucky.

"er indoors TM" will be home soon. I hope she’s in a “cooking my dinner” mood. She’s got eight hundred calories to play with; which sounds a *lot* more than it actually is…

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