Over brekkie I watched another episode of “Trailer Park Boys”; it is the sort of show that sounds absolutely
dreadful when you describe it, but I rather like it. As I watched it, so Fudge
snored and I fidgeted on the sofa. I could not get comfortable. This has been a
problem for the last week or so. For all that I’ve been a tad lax on the diet
recently, I can feel the weight loss is slowly continuing. My hands feel bonier
what I rub them together. My face isn’t so fat when I have my morning shave.
And my bum is sore. When I sit I tent to slouch and that worked well when I had
a much fatter arse. However now some of the padding has gone, the bit of my
backside which makes contact with the chair has become rather sore and sitting
still for any length of time is becoming problematical. Perhaps it is God’s way
of saying to eat more cakes?
I
sparked up my lap-top. Myfitnesspal dot com were again advocating sleeping in
the nip. Morally they may well be lax. NHS jobs suggested I might like to work
at St Thomas’s hospital in London. LinkedIn suggested I might pal up with all
sorts of people with whom I have absolutely nothing in common.
As I drove to work the pundits on the
radio were discussing how Paul Dacre was stepping
down from his position as editor of the Daily Mail. They wheeled on
journalists from the Daily Mail and the Guardian to offer opinions and whilst
they didn't actually have a fist-fight live on-air, it came close.
There was also a lot of talk about how
the Brexit secretary David Davis is at
odds with the Prime Minister over all sorts of piddling details
about the mechanics of Brexit. I'm getting fed up with hearing about Brexit on
the radio now. Was it a good idea? Was it a bad idea? One thing is for sure -
it is an idea that was never actually thought out.
Over the years I've had all sorts of
crackpot schemes. Only two years ago I had this idea to take a professional
secondment to St Helena for six months. A working holiday in a tropical
paradise was a great idea... but five minutes of rational thought showed just
what an impractical scheme it would have been. It's a bit like crowdfunding the
Dover Citadel. It could be done, but not on the spur of the moment like I thought
two days ago.
The nation has done exactly the
same with Brexit... Bung out all the foreigners, stick up Union Jacks
everywhere all on the strength of “one
world cup and two world wars” but who will run the hospitals, what about
the Northern Ireland border, what about all the pan-European co-operative
business ventures, and we’re still stuck with rules from Brussels but now we
have no say in their creation whatsoever... Why don't we re-think *exactly* what we want out of leaving the
European Union? Is having a plan *such*
a radical suggestion?
I got to work where I had a dull day.
Having some time owing me I skived out a little earlier than usual. I spent five
minutes hunting out a geocache in Pembury only to find it laying in the middle
of a footpath. I hid it where I was intending to look, then spent ages getting
home. Why is it that drivers of *huge*
lorries insist on driving along the A262 through Goudhurst when there are big
signs up saying the road isn’t suitable for *huge* lorries?
Once home I took the dogs round the park
and we had a ding-dong with a cyclist. There was a screech of brakes as he
nearly ran over Treacle. Had he been on his side of the path… It’s not
difficult, is it? There’s a great big picture of a bike painted on the bit
bikes are supposed to go on.
Most cyclists are sensible, but the
idiot minority is quite idiot enough to spoil it for everyone.
The dogs and I shared a
chicken kebab (and chips) for our tea
whilst watching stuff that the SkyPlus box had kindly recorded for me, then I
got five gallons of beer going in readiness for a booze-up in a couple of
months’ time.
I *really* should have an early night…
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