I slept reasonably well; even if after a rather vivid dream
in which there was a hurricane going on I woke to find my CPAP machine had
slipped somewhat.
Over brekkie I had a look at the Internet. After
yesterday’s little tirade of hate-posting, this morning was rather more sedate.
And with no emails of note I had a look at the geo-map to see if I might have a
little adventure this morning on the way to Margate. I chose a geocache which looked
to be a little off the beaten track. It looked as though I would have a little
walk to get to it; a little walk is always good. The cache description gave a
starting point for the walk at the beginning of a footpath so I set the sat-nav
and off I went.
As I drove I listened to the radio. Being on a little
holiday I’d not heard the radio for some time. One of the leading lights of Ofsted
was being interviewed. Despite having had their budget halved, Ofsted's
chief inspector, Amanda Spielman was maintaining all was peachy at Ofsted
whilst answering every question with a random selection of management
catch-phrases. Management catch-phrases boil my piss; for many years I worked
in an environment in which I really could (and
did) say things along the lines of “let’s
run it up the flag-pole and see who salutes” and not one person present
realised that by doing so I was laughing at them. Management catch-phrases only
work with people who lap up that sort of thing; they *certainly* don’t work on national radio.
There was also an interview with Tony Blair. Love him or
loathe him, he led the Labour party to three consecutive victories. He didn’t *actually* say that Jeremy Corbyn had
shoved the Labour party down the toilet and was vigorously pulling the flush on
it… What is it with the Labour party? Such a brilliant idea in theory; such a
disaster in practice.
I got to the start of the footpath for my little walk. It
was at this point that I saw that getting to this cache didn’t involve quite
such a little walk. My sat-nav said it was a walk of over a mile and a half to
get to it. So I didn’t bother. Instead I drove into Pegwell Bay where I failed
to find one stuffed in some ivy.
I
drove into Margate, parked up and went to a certain shop. "Daddy’s
Little Angel TM" was ranting at a supplier; eventually "Stormageddon
- Bringer of Destruction TM" was persuaded to put on some
trousers and we walked up to the Best Westbrook café
for a spot of brekkie. Eventually "Stormageddon - Bringer of
Destruction TM" persuaded his mother that he didn’t want
apple juice, and he got the cup of tea he wanted. He was even allowed to add
his own sugar. But there’s no denying that he had a total meltdown when he
wasn’t allowed mustard with it.
I plumped for the full English, and very nice it was too.
Suitably replete we wandered back to base. Sam set off to
the cash and carry, and I helped "Daddy’s Little Angel TM"
doing a little tidying up. I say “tidying
up”; we just did a tip run, then went to help at the cash and carry.
The morning in the shop is usually quiet; things pick up in
the afternoon, so I shoved off, and pausing only briefly to fail to find a
geocache in what seemed to be a tramp’s bedroom I came home.
I got the leads on to the dogs and we set off round the
park. Half way round we had the sudden realisation that we’d forgotten a
nephew’s birthday on Sunday, so I hurriedly diverted to the corner shop where I
got a card and some stamps, and then we went to the post office in the town
centre to be sure the card would get there in time.
As we walked home I let the dogs off the leads as much as I
could. One small child went hysterical at the sight of “loose dogs”, but she was far enough away that I could plausibly
pretend I hadn’t seen her, so I pretended I hadn’t seen her, and we carried on
homewards.
Another day which was rather busier that a so-called “holiday” should have been…
No comments:
Post a Comment