5 April 2018 (Thursday) - Tage Turtles

Another good night’s sleep, and again both dogs were still fast asleep as I activated my “Home Workout” app. I think it is working in that I can feel things tensing up (underneath all the blubber). I set the washing machine loose on some laundry and it chewed my trousers as I scoffed toast and watched the first episode of the new series of “Thunderbirds Are Go”.  I liked the first two seasons, but I’m not sure if Alan and Gordon Tracey are supposed to be a pair of half-wits.

Whilst I waited for the washing machine to finish I had a look at the Internet (with Fudge curled up beside me). Not much had happened on Facebook overnight. Since all that nonsense about what data Facebook supposedly has about everyone (but doesn’t actually seem to have), it seems to be a lot quieter on there.
I saw a new cache had gone live not too far from work. The chance of a crafty First to Find? I read the description which told me “15ft up on North east side of tree. DO NOT ATTEMPT ALONE”. I was a bit surprised to read this – caches are all given a terrain rating for how difficult it is to actually get to the cache. This one was rated one point five. The sort of rating something magnetically stuck to a railing at waist level would get. If it really is “15ft up on North east side of tree” it should have a rating of three point five at least. It pays to read the instructions; I didn’t waste my time chasing off after it.

I hung out my washing and set off to work. As I drove to work there was a load of drivel being spouted on the radio about “travelers” (that’s the politically correct term for gippos and pikeys apparently). One of the leading advocates of the traveling community (but not a member of it!) was banging on about how local councils had a moral obligation to provide sites for travelers. It would seem that travelers like to settle down to send their children to school and consequently like a permanent base. My gut reaction is that they might like to get a proper house and job like everyone else but in this day and age I am wrong to think this. I was going to say that this goes against their inalienable human right to sponge off of the tax payer, but it turns out that when travelers are on official council-provided sites they pay council tax.
I suppose that’s a start…
(Am I wrong to think that all travelers are feckless workshy villains? I expect that most of them aren’t. I suspect I would feel different if I could figure out how on Earth they fund such an itinerant lifestyle)

Once at work I got to play with the department’s new blood testing devices. We have a track of four rather impressive gizmos. Each has been named after one of the four teenage mutant hero turtles.
This gave me flashbacks…
I cannot get rid of the vision of "My Boy TM" when he was four years old; charging round the house (stark naked) screaming "TAGE TURTLES!!!" and clouting everyone and everything with a plastic sword.

Once home I walked the dogs round the park. Both behaved themselves, and remarkably didn’t come home absolutely filthy (as they have done recently). Mind you we did have a “near miss” on the way home. Some bag lady was staggering along Christchurch Road and made great show of blocking the pavement to greet the dogs. Both utterly blanked her (as did I). We all stepped round her and left her trying not to fall into a hedge.

"er indoors TM" boiled up a rather good bit of dinner, then we watched yesterday’s “Benidorm”; the critics have slated this; I quite like it. And then the most recent episode of “Young Sheldon” – that’s not bad either…

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