4 July 2018 (Wednesday) - Airport Run

It turns out all that screaming and shouting I heard last night *was* football-related. This morning my Facebook feed was crawling with comments and memes about how the England football team is doing. So many people were caught up in the hype including many people who I know have no interest in football at all. I’m reliably informed that by not shrieking banshee-like at the telly I’m being unpatriotic. So why is it not unpatriotic not to know that the English competitors do well at other international sporting competitions like squash, kite-surfing, conkers, tiddlywinks, caber tossing, toe-wrestling, lawn-mower wrestling… the list goes on.
I had a few emails. Several people had been out hunting my geocaches over the weekend. Some were impressed; some not. Several need some attention; I shall have a look-see at them over the next few days. Or that is my intention.
I had several notifications about jobs in Essex; there seems to be loads of job vacancies in Essex.

I took the dogs for a walk round the park. Getting to the park was a tad traumatic. Why is it that whilst on the way to school and nursery so many small children feel the need to scream at the dogs and shout at then in stupid put-on voices? So many times the mothers apologize and relate some bad experience the child has had with a dog, and then admit that had the child not screamed and shouted in that stupid put-on voice at the time then said bad experience would probably never have happened.
We got to the park; we had a walk. We met OrangeHead (without her posse) who was walking without a stick today; she was chatty as she often is when on her own.
As we walked I checked on two of my caches which had been flagged as needing a look-see. They got a look-see.

We came home. I fed the fish, the dogs barked at them; Fudge got his nose sucked. With a little time spare I watched an episode of “Trailer Park Boys”. "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" has started watching that show; she’s hooked.

I settled the hounds and eventually found where I'd left my car, then took a little diversion down to the most south parts of Ashford to check on a Wherigo. Having had a "didn't find" log yesterday I went out and determined the reason for that log. It was missing. I replaced it, then (as I often do) I had another little geo-mission on the way to work.  Today's theme was "finding ones I've failed on earlier". There are two along the A20 which I have singularly failed to find before despite extensive searching. Today I found both in a matter of seconds.
I drove up to Sainsbury's for petrol. I had hoped to get the car washed too. I can distinctly remember there being a car wash in the car park at Aylesford Sainsbury's. There wasn't.
Bearing in mind yesterday's debacle I drove straight past McDonalds and had dinner in the work's canteen. Cauliflower cheese with beans and change out of three quid. Can't be bad...

I did my bit at work; yesterday's shift was hard work. Today's wasn't so bad, but I've had better. And with work done I didn't come home. I'd arranged to do a late shift this evening as "My Boy TM" and his entourage were flying back from holiday this evening and if I did the late shift I could go straight from work to collect them.
Sort of...
I finished my shift about two hours before the plane was due to land, and I work about half an hour from the airport. So I had this plan to drive to Clackett Lane services, get a cuppa and a lump of cake, and read my Kindle until I got a phone call to say that "the eagle had landed". I would then drive to the airport and they would all be standing waiting in the pick-up zone.
What a good plan it was...
Like all plans that I make it fell at the first hurdle. I got to Clackett Lane services at quarter to ten only to find that they weren’t open twenty-four / seven as billed. The WH Smiths and McDonalds were open; everything else was shut. I had a burger and fries and explained the entire concept of McDonalds to some normal people who were utterly out of their depth without a knife and fork.
I had orders to get bread and milk for the returnees; there was none at Clackett Lane. I tried the filling station; the oik on the counter explained that whilst they never closed, they didn’t sell anything but petrol at night. He explained this in between spraying his chicken sandwich everywhere. Clearly his mother had never taught him not to speak with his mouth full. It was rather disgusting.
I eventually found bread and milk in a filling station in Crawley.

With only minutes until the flight was due to land I thought I might park up at the airport and wait in the arrivals lounge. The car park was amazingly busy, but I soon got sorted, and found a Costa that was open. I got a coffee and a bakewell tart (and almost change out of a fiver). I devoured them whilst pretending to read my Kindle app. Whilst pretending to be engrossed in the second book of “Game of Thrones” I was actually engrossed with the bum of the rather fit young lady whose shorts didn’t actually cover her bum.
In between Kindling and bums I found also myself watching the police with sniffer dogs and semi-automatic guns. I can see the need for them; I just wish there wasn’t a need for them.

"My Boy TM" eventually arrived; their flight had been delayed by an hour. We made our way to the car park where I was amazed to find that an hour and half’s parking cost thirteen quid. Thirteen quid !!

I came home as quiet as a mouse and fell over all three dogs who had camped out by the front door waiting for my return. That probably woke the entire street.
I got to bed just after two o’clock… Mind you, the airport run was quite the adventure.

No comments:

Post a Comment