29 January 2019 (Tuesday) - Bit Tired

Restless dogs made for a rather restless night. I wish they would settle. When I am at home with them during the days they will sleep for hours without moving a muscle. At night they can’t go more than five minutes without having to stomp about and quarrel. I spent much of today yawning, and fell asleep over lunch. I hate doing that.

Over brekkie (granola and alpen) I watched the latest episode of “The Good Place”; a show which started incredibly well, but now isn’t going anywhere really. And then I sparked up the lap-top for a quick look at the Internet. What with a late finish yesterday I didn’t really have time to check my email last night. On Sunday I mentioned that I complained to Tesco about their checking up on my self-service shopping. They’d replied. Apparently they check everyone for the first ten times that they shop unsupervised. I suggested that the people from the complaints department went into a Tesco store and watched these checks being made. I suggested that they looked at the contempt on the faces of the other shoppers watching the people being checked. If they thought I am going to endure being treated like a shoplifter another nine times they are sorely mistaken.
I told them to stick their self-service where the sun doesn’t shine.

I walked up the road to my car. As I turned the corner I saw a huge lorry parked on the double yellow lines by the tattooist studio. The driver was fast asleep in the cab. This boils my piss. Local people can't even pull up on the yellow lines to unload without traffic wardens giving them a ticket, but lorries often park up for the night and no traffic warden wants to know.  I know that the traffic wardens would have seen him as they often roam the streets in the small hours; I've seen them after midnight many times.
I posted a piccie of the lorry onto a local Facebook group in the expectation that it might cause a petty argument, but so far there's been no reaction at all. I would whinge at my local Councillor, but the last time I had dealings with her she came over as worse than useless.
Perhaps I should put my money where my mouth is and stand for local office myself?

I went to the local Sainsbury's to get some petrol. I was pleased to see that there were no queues there. The people on the tills made me chuckle. Oh, they were miserable. Had they smiled, their faces really would have cracked.

As I drove to work I became convinced that forty years ago I made a serious mistake when choosing what to do with my life. The pundits on the radio were talking about Nick Clegg. Three years younger than me, he became leader of the Liberal Democrats by generally being non-committal and blathering platitudes. He then became deputy Prime Minister by just saying "yes Dave" (to David Cameron) five times a day. That got him a knighthood, and now he has a six-figure salary working for Facebook (what does he know about running a social media giant?).
Perhaps I should have done something like that with my life?

​I got to work; I had a rather good day. I came home again. Once home I was greeted by the wolf-pack. Pogo and Fudge were pleased to see me; Treacle showed me the latest thing she’d stolen from the dustbin.
Once I’d had a scrub I looked up train times for the weekend. It’s Dover beer festival on Saturday; if you’re keen on beer which is far too strong to be sensible, I’m aiming to be there for the start at ten o’clock.

"er indoors TM" boiled up a rather good bit of dinner, and with nothing recorded on the SkyPlus box we took pot luck on Netflix. “Swimming with Men” was perhaps one of the best films I’ve seen for a long time. If you’ve not seen it, it is well worth watching.
I should really have an early night; if only to get some sleep before the dogs declare war; all the battles of which will be fought on my bed.

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