Another night which would have been
better without the “terrible twins”
quarrelling in the small hours.
Over brekkie I watched another episode
of “Russian Doll”. I then had a look
at the Internet. It was much the same as I’d left it last night. I had a couple
of emails, but none of note.
There was no ice on my car to be scraped
this morning, for which I was thankful. As I drove to work the pundits on the
radio were interviewing the Brexit Secretary who came across very poorly. He
was unable to give a straight answer to absolutely any question that he was
asked. You would have thought that with just over a month to go, *some* details of his plans would be
available. Perhaps he hasn't got any plans at all? He certainly didn't have a
clue.
There was also talk of a creating a
national database of people's hands; the idea being that people's hands are
unique and if there are photos of hands at crime scenes then villains might be
brought to justice more easily. I'd volunteer for this since (at the moment) I don't intend going out
doing anything criminal. I suspect most non-criminal people would also be
up for it. Not so the crims though; which rather negates the benefit of having
such a database.
There was also talk of some idiot
who subscribes to a crackpot religion in which they believe the world would be
a better place without any people at all. This chap is trying to sue his
parents for allowing him to be conceived and born without his consent. It turns
out his parents are lawyers and are welcoming the challenge. You couldn't make
this up, could you?
Despite sixteen miles of half the
motorway being cordoned off I made good time to Maidstone. I took a little
diversion to get petrol. This stuff just keeps on getting cheaper. Odd really.
With all the Brexit doom and gloom on the radio and in the media I would have
thought that the price of that stuff would have skyrocketed.
I got to work; I'd not been at Maidstone
work for nearly four weeks. But I was soon back into the swing of things;
avoiding that which I could avoid, and getting on with that which I couldn't.
There was a minor hiccup when the late
shift was a couple of minutes late getting in; she'd had a calamity at home
when her small son had claimed to have been bitten on the willy by a
velociraptor. I suppose compared to that, all else pales into insignificance.
The ladies of the department were unanimously of the opinion that being
bitten on the willy by a velociraptor was a good thing and it might go some way
to reduce the "unnatural demands"
from their menfolk.
I went for a rather long tea break at
that point.
With "er indoors TM"
off out this evening I walked the dogs round the block, then finished the last
of the French Stick for dinner. As I scoffed it I watched the last two episodes
of “Russian Doll”. For a show which
started well it rather fizzled out at the end. Such a shame…
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