I slept for over eight hours
last night. It is odd that I can’t sleep much during the day time after a night
shift, but I am out like a light during the night. I was eventually woken by
the sound of the torrential rain on the window this morning.
There was so much I might have
done today. There was talk of fishing. I might have taken the dogs on a rather
long walk. The garden really needs a bit of attention. Everything was abandoned
because of the awful weather. Perhaps it is time for a review of my lifestyle
and find things to do which don’t involve being outside.
Mind you I’m glad we’ve got the
rain this week and not last week when we were away on holiday. We had a *really*
good break in the New Forest. Was it only a week ago?
Over brekkie I had a look-see at
Facebook. A friend’s granddaughter was very ill, and she was asking for prayers
for the little one. How does that work? Presumably the prayers are directed to
some god who could cure the child? Surely this begs the question of why the god
allowed the child to get ill in the first place, and why does the god have to
be begged for help. Is this god the capricious sort that allows bad things to
happen (or causes them) just so we beg for assistance? Or does it just
have no idea what is going on until we prompt it with a prayer? I’m not sure I
want anything to do with a deity like that. I wish I understood religion.
Another friend was ranting
on-line about what a bitch his ex-girlfriend was and was listing her many and
varied failings to the world whilst wondering why the courts were siding with
her in his ongoing custody battle.
I had the obligatory email from
Amazon suggesting I buy that which I’d already bought, and an email from the
Internet provider telling me all the wonderful deals they were offering on the
phone line that I cancelled last month.
The bank had sent me an email.
They’ve started providing an e-newsletter. Someone’s obviously being paid a lot
of money to produce the thing. I wonder how many readers it will get? I for one
have no interest in reading a load of corporate nonsense.
Despite the rain I took the dogs
round the park. Hardly anyone else had ventured out, but we did meet a rather
bedraggled chap and his equally bedraggled red setter which Fudge tried to
hump. When we were nearly home we met OrangeHead; her dog was wearing a coat.
Fudge flatly refuses to wear a coat but I might try one on Treacle.
We got home just as the
dishwasher was finishing. As we left I’d set both it and the washing machine on
a one-hour cycle. The dishwasher was done but the washing machine still had
half an hour to go. What was that all about?
I dried the dogs and settled
them, gathered the dry washing from the radiators and went up into town. With
pretty much all of the day’s possibilities being washed out I thought I might
go to the library. Having done the Snowdog trail there were some freebies to be
collected.
I drove into town, got to the
car park and watched some old git push to the front of the queue for the car
park tickets, then once at the library I watched some old bat elbow her way in
front of me. When she’d finished giving the librarian serious abuse about the
state of the local bus services (?) I got to collect my free badges and
pens. The nice lady at the library told me about the upcoming Snowdog event and
the auction at which they will all be sold off. Whilst there is no telling what
price they will fetch, those “in the know” feel each Snowdog will sell
for between three and five thousand pounds.
I wish I could afford one.
With time still left on the car
park ticket I thought I might have a little look round town. Again the elderly
showed their complete disregard for queuing in WH Smiths and Waterstones.
I came home and found that
Treacle had knocked over all the washing I’d collected from the radiators. I
knew it was her and not Fudge; I’d put it on the chair that she uses as a
jump-off point to get on to the table. She knew she’d done wrong, but she got
told off anyway. She then spent much of the afternoon sulking at me.
Over a spot of lunch I watched another
episode of “Prison Break”. It is OK, but (like all fiction) *really*
would benefit from a bit of research by the writers. For example if you want to
visit a prisoner, you can’t just turn up. It’s not that simple. Before you can
even consider going to visit, the prisoner himself has to add you to their list
of visitors. Then the prisoner will send you a form which you fill out and
return to the prison saying exactly who is coming (only those on the
prisoner’s list are allowed) and what date you would like; the date being
about a fortnight or so into the future. *If* you are lucky you’ll have
your request approved.
Along the same lines was an
e-book I’ve been reading. Billed as “hard SF” the author prides
himself on writing fiction, but with “proper” science. He was banging on
about preventing iron overloading by use of a reduced iron diet. For reasons I
could go on about (for literally hours on end) the human body don’t work
that way.
I spent a little time writing up CPD. I’ve been
rather lax with that lately. I then did a week’ worth of archeoastronomy with
the nice people at Coursera; but I couldn’t concentrate on it. All I heard was “blah blah Greek temple”.
After another episode of “Prison Break” "My Boy TM"
came to visit. He was having his mother’s wireless phone charger. It struck me
it would be more efficient to take the plug of the wireless charger and stick
it into the phone, but what do I know?
With
"er indoors TM" off out tonight I fed the dogs then
foraged for my own dinner. I foraged in the general direction of KFC and
foraged rather successfully. I scoffed KFC whilst watching my DVD of “The Moonbase”; a Doctor Who story first
broadcast in 1966. Treacle seemed rather bemused as I sang the theme tune to
her.
I
shall watch another episode of “Prison
Break”, maybe some more archeoastronomy, and then bed. It’s been something
of a rubbish day today… I could have done so much more if it hadn’t rained.
Mind
you some people spend all day doing nothing like this. What a waste of a day
off.
No comments:
Post a Comment