I slept reasonably well. I got up just after seven o’clock and was rather surprised to see that (according to our smart meter) we’d already used nearly a quid’s worth of power. How did we manage that?
I sparked up my lap-top and was amazed to see that “Maria Tensriana”’s Facebook page was still available for all to see. Three days ago I’d reported it for “inappropriate content”, and you can’t really get more inappropriate than what “Maria” was doing in those photographs of her and her friend’s willy. Or perhaps you can? If so, please don’t let me know the details. Maybe you might tell “Maria”? Or the people at Facebook who *really* should be taking a firm line about that sort of thing.
I got myself and the dogs organised. It took some doing. Usually "er indoors TM" does all that stuff but today she wasn’t coming out with us. She had a better offer and was off to the O2 arena to see “Soft Cell”. I managed to get organised reasonably well; even if the dogs didn’t eat their brekkie. Mind you they rarely do if they think something is going on.
Karl, Tracey and Charlotte arrived and we set off. We could have gone to London with friends, but the trains aren’t as good as they might be on a Sunday. We were planning to wander round a cache series that they hadn’t done in High Halden, but our phones started beeping telling us of new geocaches so we took the opportunity of doing "er indoors TM"’s new cache series.
We got to Rolvenden, parked up, and set off up hill and down dale. We met cows and sheep. We saw quite a few buzzards, and what was it with the pheasants? – I’ve never seen so many. The orchards were rather beautiful, but with the fruit pickers out in force I didn’t fancy getting caught scrumping. We had a rather good picnic; the dogs eventually ate their breakfasts (that I’d brought with us). We even got to ford a stream. Fudge got rather excited at the stream; he does over-react to water. Treacle climbed trees; I wish she wouldn’t.
Geocache-wise it was a rather good walk. Having managed a rather prompt start we got quite a few First to Finds on the beginning stretch, and (I must admit) got to feel very self-satisfied over a later First to Find. Another very experienced cacher had started the route on the half way point and so from half way was ahead of us. But we managed to find one cache he didn’t.
This chap had a second one he couldn’t find. He couldn’t find it because (in all likelihood) it wasn’t there. The camouflage was there; the film pot wasn’t. We phoned "er indoors TM" just before she was about to leave for Greenwich, and after a little discussion we hid another film pot under a rock ten yards from where the one had gone missing. "er indoors TM" said that she’d had a previous cache go missing from the very same place, so a new hidey-hole was a good idea. And replacing it there and then was a *very* good idea bearing in mind that if we didn’t replace it right at that time, I would be dispatched tomorrow morning to do it on my way to work.
After five hours we were back at the car. By one of those odd co-incidences we’d parked at a pub. We sat in the garden and had a pint of Larkin’s traditional followed by a pint of the Old Dairy’s Summer Top ably accompanied by pork scratchings and cheesy biscuits and nuts.
I took a few photos as we walked and de-briefed.
We headed home; once home I gave the dogs their dinner then foraged for some dinner of my own. I foraged in the general direction of the KFC and foraged quite successfully. I scoffed it, and as the dogs snored I ironed shirts whilst watching the DVD of “Little Shop of Horrors”.
"er indoors TM" won’t be home till late… what rubbish can I put on the telly…?
Finding myself wide awake at half past three I got up and watched the first episode of the new season of “South Park”. Today’s installment was rather scathing about the seemingly prevalent attitude in America that the right to walk round carrying a gun is so important that having loonies shooting up school children is no reason to ban guns. The show was entertaining enough, but like all “South Park” I’m sure that unless you are incredibly up to date on American news an culture, mush of the show goes over your head. Interestingly the episode ended with #cancelsouthpark. After twenty-two years have they finally flogged the thing to death?
I went back to bed, and woke four hours later cuddling Fudge like a teddy bear. I made some toast and had a look to see if the world had turned again without much help from me. It would seem to have managed admirably.
Treacle came charging into the living room with a mouthful of my socks. I couldn’t be bothered to chase her. After a minute she came and waved the socks at me. When I didn’t react, she started dabbing my leg to get a reaction. Silly hound.
I spent a few minutes looking at the household finances. I get cross with the letters that the insurance people and the utility companies send me. All the information I actually need can be summarized in one sentence. So why do they send a dozen sheets of A4 filled with corporate twaddle that neither I nor anyone else will ever read?
We set off to Margate to visit the most recent fruit of my loin. "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" had had a haircut. I thought it suited him, but the haircut was a matter of some delicacy. Apparently he had told the barber he’d been given a “short back and slap”; and I was in the dog house for telling him about “short back and slaps”.
We went up to the Best Westbrook café for a spot of liver and onions. "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" kicked off because he wasn’t allowed to pour sugar into his can of Fanta, and once we’d all scoffed our dinner he threw his opened can of Fanta across the table because he could. I didn’t quite laugh out loud, but he is definitely his mother’s son.
I then spent a couple of hours painting the walls of the flight of stairs up to "Daddy’s Little Angel TM"’s flat. When she moved in the previous occupant had painted them a rather hideous bright yellow. I got a couple of coats of magnolia (yuk!) on; it has dulled the yellow if nothing else.
We came home and walked the dogs round the park. The fun fair was in full flow; some of the rides looked scary to the point of being dangerous. Whilst I’m sure they are perfectly safe, I wouldn’t go on something which hoiks you twenty yards into the sky before spinning you round.
We came home; I spent a few minutes , then played “Bubble Witch Saga” for a few minutes.
I then drove round to Chris’s to watch the re-make of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds. It was rather good…
Last night as I left work last night my phone beeped. I had a friend request on Facebook from someone claiming to be “Maria Tensriana” from Lewisham. Bearing in mind that “Maria” looked suspiciously like an effeminate young lad in a skimpy bikini I thought it best not to get involved and I ignored the request. As I had my morning rummage round the Internet this morning I saw that “Maria” had sent me a link to a web site featuring quite a few nudey ladies of presumably dubious morality. Bearing in mind that “Maria”’s Facebook page was featuring a close-up picture of some woman’s clopper and some people doing something rather unhygienic I reported “Maria” to the Facebook feds for “a breach of their community standards” and for “posting inappropriate things”. Mind you I’ve reported breaches of their community standards to Facebook before and they’ve not shown much interest. I don’t think they’ve set the bar very high for morality. However I’m hoping they will take a firm moral stance with “Maria”; if a publicly posted photo of a pork sword up the brown-eye isn’t “inappropriate”, I’d like to know what is. (Actually… on reflection – I wouldn’t!)
I didn’t have any of that almond butter for brekkie today. "er indoors TM" did; she says it smells of old socks. If any of my loyal readers would like a tub of almond butter…
I took the dogs out for their morning constitutional. Before we’d even got to the park Fudge had picked fights with a huge Rottweiler and a bus. Treacle had had a snarl at a sparrow and a motorized wheelchair. Once we got to the park Fudge trailed about fifty to a hundred yards behind and I tripped over Treacle. Twice. We had a dodgy five minutes when Fudge ran into the fun-fair which is currently set up on Viccie park’s main green and piddled up one of the caravans, but fortunately no one saw him. I worry about Fudge going near the caravans of the fun fair folk. Perhaps I’m prejudiced, but I’ve seen the.
I set off for Charing. "er indoors TM" has a couple of geocaches there which needed a little attention. It was more on my way to work than yesterday's maintenance had been, but I'm not complaining. A little mission before the late shift is always good. I found the troublesome sandwich boxes and made them good. Not an arduous task (if making sandwich boxes good is your forte), and then I went hunting out some other geocaches. My first target boiled my piss somewhat. The whole idea of the geocaching lark is that the GPS takes you to the thing. You might obscure the location with a puzzle, but even so, you end up with a set of GPS co-ordinates which tell you the location of what you are looking for. The idea *isn't* that you get to within half a mile of the thing and then blunder about randomly rooting under hedges. Mind you, watching the way I do it you might be forgiven for making that mistake... anyway...
Today's first geocache had a clear description about a small tree. The GPS co-ordinates took you exactly to that tree. But there was nothing there. Bearing in mind the thing was described as "large" it wasn't as though it had been cleverly hidden. I looked at what other finders had said and widened my search. For all that the GPS is good, any given location is never more accurate than to within a few yards. An accuracy of four yards is realistic. Having said that, co-ordinates which were ten yards out would be frowned upon by those who brandish sat-navs. I eventually found the cache I was looking for. It was *huge*; one of the biggest I've ever seen. A cube, about two feet along each side. It was a shame it was about fifty yards from the posted location, but you can't have everything.
I can't help but feel that had the people who'd hidden it found more than three caches themselves (yes - three!) they'd have more idea what they were doing.
I blame the geo-feds for letting such inexperienced people loose with film pots and sandwich boxes.
My next target was along some rough country tracks; I gave up and sought out an easier quarry. Those farm tracks will be a good walk for another morning before another late shift. I then headed off to work. I stopped off at McDonalds. Last year I went there all the time; I can't remember my last visit to Aylesford McDonalds. For all that dinner was only seventy per cent of the cost of dinner in the works canteen, I couldn't recommend what I had today. The fiery buffalo chicken wrap wasn't enjoyable; it made my eyes water, my nose run, and my mouth burn. And (like an idiot) I forgot to tell them no salt on the chips and so was thirsty for the rest of the day.
I got to work and did my bit. It wasn't a bad late shift; it went marginally better than yesterday's had gone. But I was glad to get home. My silly dogs were sitting by the front door waiting for me.
I see “Maria”’s Facebook page is still there, pork swords, brown eyes and all. So much for my neo-puritanical stance…