As I crawled out of my pit this morning "er indoors
TM" announced that when she went to Trap One during the
night she’s blown all the lights in the house. Oh, how I chuckled.
Replacing the fuse wire is an easy enough job, or it would
have been. The fuse wire comes on a strip of cardboard with three loops of
different strength of fuse wire (strength,
flavour… I don’t know). The idea is that the three sorts are in separate
loops, but somehow all three had been intricately woven together, and
untangling them by the light of my phone’s torch was quite a performance.
With light restored to the house I had some toast.
As I scoffed my toast I peered into Facebook as I do. Rants and knob jokes
abounded in equal amounts. A friend was ranting about people getting
paracetamol on prescription; apparently this costs the NHS more than four times
the cost of buying the stuff from Tesco. The obvious answer here would be for
the NHS to buy paracetamol from Tesco, wouldn’t it?
Facebook suggested I might like the “Secret
Boutique Lingerie” page. It’s an interesting part of the
Internet featuring rather foxy women in rather skimpy undercrackers. There are
those who like that sort of thing. I can’t say I’m averse to it, but if I don’t
take a firm moral stand, who will?
And I had a message about a
geo-puzzle I’ve been looking at for some time but was unable to solve. Some
geo-puzzles are fun, some are cryptic to the point of being ridiculous. Take
the one for which I got a hint this morning. There was a list of obscure words
laid out in the form of longitude and latitude co-ordinates. I’d figured out
that the words were types of gin but was stuck. Apparently to solve the puzzle
you have to determine the year in which each gin’s distillery was founded and
add up the digits in that year to give you a number for each stage of the
calculation.
How on Earth are you ever
supposed to figure that out? And so many puzzles are like this. Utterly
impossible to figure out. I’ve half a mind to put out a puzzle cache with a
picture of Alan Partridge playing Ker-plunk. The theme will be types of cheese.
Because if you take the letters in “Alan Partridge” and “Ker-plunk”,
add some letters, take some letters away and shuffle them about, you get the
names of the cheese.
You might think I’m taking the
piss here, but this really is the sort of thinking that goes into some
geo-puzzles.
I took the dogs round the park.
We had a minor altercation with a small thug and an Alsatian. Now I sometimes
struggle with three dogs, but none of them is stronger than I am. What kind of
idiot goes out with a dog which is so strong that the only way he can stop it
is by grabbing a lamp post as he is dragged past it?
Just as we got home so my phone
beeped. It was the boss. There was a minor calamity at work; could I possibly
get in earlier than usual for the late shift? I wasn't overly keen on the
idea; I had planned a little geo-mission for this morning, and I was under
orders to get more fuse wire, but that will all keep.
Bearing in mind the thirty-third
Rule of Acquisition (it never hurts to suck up to the boss) I settled
the dogs and set off to work.
Work… I’ve had a good week off.
Mind you I had planned to do so much more. I was going to get the
pressure-washer out and scrub out the front and back gardens. I was going to
hose down my new rocks with a view to preparing for a new water feature. I was
going to give the lawn its first mowing of the year. I was going to paint the
front of the house…
Oh well, I can do it all later,
I expect.
Despite idiot lorry drivers
ignoring signs saying that the A262 is not suitable for lorries I got to work,
and parked far quicker than I usually do at that time of day. Once at work I
did my bit, and being on the late shift I had dinner in the works canteen. Fish
goujons, chips, rhubarb crumble with custard, and change out of a fiver. Can't
be bad.
It is just a shame that a rather
early start followed by a late finish made for a rather uneventful day.
Mind you I had quite enough
excitement for the whole day when the fuse blew...
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