20 August 2018 (Monday) - More Telly
I woke at the crack of dawn and lay watching the clock slowly edge towards getting up time. Eventually I gave up watching the clock and got up half an hour earlier than I might have done.
I stepped on the scales and saw that (amazingly) my weight is holding constant. Probably still several stones over what it might be, but constant is better than rising. Thinking diety thoughts I had a bowl of granola for brekkie. According to our old friend science this could be more healthy than toast.
As I scoffed I watched an episode of "Orange is the New Black". The writers had thought up a bizarre twist to the storyline in which the protagonists are now parading round in saucy undercrackers.
Whoever wrote that show didn't muck about.
With little happening on the internet I set off for work. I set off rather earlier than I usually do seeing how I'm on a two-week secondment to Pembury. Ironically as I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how more lives are being saved by the nation treating seriously injured people at designated major trauma centers rather than in local hospitals. There's no denying the figures; people do have a better chance of survival if shipped to a specialist centre. however (as I have found) working in one can sometimes be fraught.
The pundits were also talking about the complete shambles that the security firm G4S has made of Birmingham prison and how the prison has now returned to government control. By one of life's random co-incidences privately-run prisons is a topic currently being investigated in "Orange is the New Black". Surely even the most feeble-minded simpleton must realise that there is no profit to be made from running a prison properly, so why have the nations prisons been farmed out to the private sector?
As I drove I was conscious of a white van behind me. I couldn't miss it; it couldn't have got much closer without driving into my boot. It was a shame that the driver chose to overtake (very dangerously) one hundred yards before we met a road closure so that my being able to turn round first meant I had this idiot up my backside for a few more miles.
If any of my loyal readers see a van from the Enterprise company with registration HT18 ZPL, just hope someone else is driving it.
Before I'd left home I'd had a look at the geo-map. There was a geocache which could be found without *too* much of a detour on the way to work by solving a puzzle connected with a pub which closed years ago. I drove past where the pub was. It is now a private house that has kept the pub's name, and having found the pub's name and done a few sums I was able to park up, walk down a driveway and rummage rather suspiciously in a hedge.
It was a shame I didn't find the geocache I was looking for but rummaging in a hedge isn't entirely unrewarding. I did find a slug.
I got to work, and when I had a spare five minutes I phoned Enterprise Rent-a-Car and had a whinge about their van that nearly drove me off the road. They listened politely, but I don't think they were really that bothered.
However on the plus side of life I got to scoff home-made lemon drizzle cake at tea break which was something of a result.
I did my bit, and came home via the vets; the dogs' flea and worming treatments were ready to be collected. The tick collars weren’t; I shall go back tomorrow. Once home "er indoors TM" boiled up a decent bit of dinner and went off bowling.
I watched the first episode of the new series “Krypton” which is based on the sci-fi antics of Superman’s grandad. It was… I shall reserve judgement, but I will make the observation that all fiction works when one has believable characters doing believable things no matter how ridiculous the situation. So far Super-Grandad seems to be motivated only by doing whatever frankly stupid thing will move the show’s plot along.
I spent much of the evening sniggering at Treacle. When the dogs are given a treat they act *very* differently. Fudge scoffs his right away. Treacle hides hers and comes back to it later. Sometimes weeks later, but she comes back to it. However in a really doom-brained fit of idiocy last night she'd hidden her treat in Fudge's basket, forgotten she’d then moved it, and consequently spent much of this evening in a sense of panic every time Fudge went anywhere near his basket.