Having turned her alarm
off on Monday morning, "er indoors TM" nearly overslept
this morning. Woops!
I set the washing
machine loose on more laundry, and over brekkie had my usual look-see at the
Internet to find out what I’ve missed.
It would seem that the
Ashford Snowdogs have been incredibly popular, with over a hundred thousand
more people visiting Ashford in September than in August (according
to the local council’s figures).
On a more serious note
there are rumours of the local
accident and emergency department closing. A petition has been
started to keep the thing open. Much as I agree with the sentiment in theory,
in practice are three A&E departments across the local health Trust
sustainable? Contrary to what the public thinks there are *far* more people than just doctors and nurses involved in an
A&E department. For many years these roles (as well as the doctor and nurse roles) have been entirely dependent
on immigrant workers filling them; especially in the skilled professions such
as theatre technicians, pharmacists, biomedical scientists to say nothing of
the porters and cleaners. And it is no secret that these people are now all
going home in droves.
What *do* we as a nation do when every single
application for a highly skilled position comes from overseas or when there are
no applications at all? Do we implement something like National Service where
people are forced to undertake up to six years training and then do these jobs
when they can get twice as much money driving a train? Or do we tell the
current staff that they are expected to work overtime and not be allowed
weekends or evenings off?
Here’s a suggestion (not that I’m bitter) - those that
seriously oppose the hospital closure take a pay cut and be prepared to work
nights weekends, bank holidays and Christmas and spend years training for a job
in which the slightest error has them sacked and then crucified by the local
press and social media…
The closures aren’t
about saving money… they are about pooling very limited resources. No one seems
to realise that.
Almost exactly sixteen
hours after getting home from holiday the dogs finally got up and went to the
garden for tiddle time. As they had got up I got their leads on and we went for
a walk. The road looked odd; with the road markings being re-painted today
there were “no parking” restrictions.
Where normally there are dozens of cars parked up our road, this morning there
were three. And they all had parking tickets.
Our morning walk was
equally lonely. As we went round the park we only met one other dog and a
handful of people. Where was everyone?
With walk done the dogs
scoffed their brekkie, and I settled them and went on a little mission. Firstly
to the fishing tackle shop for supplies. Whilst there they gave me a loyalty
card; I get one penny credit for every pound I spend there. It might not sound
much but I’ve whinged before about how much fishing tackle costs. Just a few
odds and ends sent me back twenty quid today. Bearing in mind I put my arse
through my fishing seat the last time we went I really needed a fishing seat.
The ones in the tackle shop were nearly a hundred quid. Stuff that! You can get
folding garden chairs for a tenner…
Let me re-phrase that.
Folding garden chairs
cost a tenner. But neither B&M, Argos, Bybrook barn nor Dobbies had any. I
tried all of them. As I drove round town I narrowly avoided being run off the
road by an arrogant twit of a lorry driver who flatly was *not* going to give way to an ambulance with lights and sirens
going.
I couldn’t find a new
chair anywhere - I’ve dug an old camping chair out of a lock-up. That will do.
Once home I hung out
more washing and put more in to scrub, then mowed the lawn. That took some
doing. Bearing in mind it is October it hasn’t stopped growing. I had a quick
spot of lunch, then spent the afternoon doing the ironing whilst watching “Full Metal Jacket”.
"Daddy’s Little Angel TM"
phoned this evening. She’d just had a customer in her shop who was in a serious
rush. The chap said he had a cab waiting but needed a beer right away as he had
just murdered someone. "Daddy’s Little Angel TM"
made light of it, but something in the fellow’s eyes frightened her, so with
the chap gone off in his cab she phoned me. I’d know what to do.
Not really having had *that* much experience with murderers I
said to phone the police and tell them.
She phoned me back an
hour later. She’d phoned the police, and two coppers were in the shop before
she’d put the phone down. Literally. They took a statement and a copy of the
CCTV footage.
Was there a murder…?
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