27 April 2018 (Friday) - Oh Oliver !

I’d had something of a late night last night, to say nothing of a few glasses of amaretto after a bottle of wine. With a late start today I was hoping for something of a lie-in, so I wasn’t best pleased to hear the screams of “nice next door” having noisy sex at seven o’clock this morning. When they do this “her-next-door” often screams “Oh Oliver, Oh Oliver” a lot, even though “him-next-door” is called Bradley. Presumably they’ve got a bit of the old saucy role-playing going on. So… Today’s burning question…
Who is your favourite fantasy Oliver – is it Twist, Cromwell or Hardy?

Having asked today’s burning question on Facebook I checked my emails. There was one from LinkedIn which had an article about the dangers of being nice at work. Apparently “Having a supportive and overly cordial work culture can undermine new and innovative ideas” and “environments that stress positivity and downplay conflict can suppress the tension needed to surface ideas and avoid bad decisions.”. I’ve worked in places that are nice, and I’ve worked in places that are not. I know where I’d rather be.

I put the leads on the dogs. This is a task which is becoming progressively easier. For some time the prelude to walkies has been two small dogs running round the house barking and shouting hysterically, and then fighting with each other as I struggle to get their collars on. A few days ago I told them that I’d had enough of this, and that they will sit nicely to have their collars attached (whether they like it or not).
So far this seems to make things much quicker.

As we walked through the park we met a thug who was walking two whippets. As we got within twenty yards of him he shouted “FRIENDLY!!!”. I smiled sweetly whilst trying to determine whether that was an order to his dogs to be friendly, information to me that his dogs were friendly, a question to determine whether my dogs were friendly, or his trying to avoid a fight with the voices in his own head.
Perhaps it is my grammar school education which has made me pedantic, but life is so much less vague when one uses complete sentences.
Shortly after this we encountered a gaggle of Gurkhas who were reduced to terror by Treacle. For a group with such a reputation for being double-hard they all seem to be terrified of dogs.

As we came home along Christchurch Road the bin men were emptying the bins. As bin men do. Having emptied the bins they then left them blocking the pavement. The chap twenty yards ahead of me was moving all the bins out of the way for the chap in the wheelchair fifteen yards ahead of me.
I considered complaining to the council about the bin men; I have done so before. Whilst their parks and gardens department is brilliant, the dustbin section leaves a lot to be desired. But I decided against it. Previous complaints achieved nothing.

With the dogs settled I set off to the late shift. I hadn't been rota-ed to do a late shift today, but one arose, a volunteer was needed, and (bearing in mind the thirty-third rule of acquisition)  I volunteered to step into the breach. I left for work early thinking I might have a little geo-mission on the way to work.
I started off acting rather suspiciously in the graveyard at Leeds church where there was a field puzzle to solve. I found the numbers I needed; I did the sums, and decided against walking half a mile through wet grass. Instead I went on to the village sign at Leeds where there was another field puzzle. After five minutes of unsuccessful rummaging in a wet hedge I checked my sums and found I was fifty yards adrift. I moved those fifty yards, and soon found what I was looking for in a different wet hedge.
Despite the drizzle I drove on to Chart Sutton for another field puzzle and I found what I was looking for. It had narrowly avoided being squished by a falling tree.
I did have plans to move on to Boughton Monchelsea, but time and weather were against me.

I went on to the aquatic shop in Aylesford where I spent nearly fifty quid on fish food for the pond fish. I hope they are grateful - a garden pond isn't a cheap hobby. Mind you, talking of money, I couldn't believe the price of the Koi there. Have I *really* got several thousand pounds worth of fish swimming round my pond?
Somehow (unlike the pond shop) I doubt I'd get much if *I* tried to sell the fish.

As it was on the way to work I had McLunch. Much as it went against the grain, sensible use of my phone's myfitnesspal app told me that three chicken selects and a small bag of fries would come in at just over six hundred calories. The trick at McDonald's is to substitute the McShake (one squillion calories) for a diet coke (one calorie).

And then I went to work. Work was good, but like all late shifts, the day's adventure was over by mid day.

No comments:

Post a Comment