24 February 2019 (Sunday) - Curry Night
I slept like a log. I did wake up feeling rather breathless at five o’clock, so I got up, emptied the dishwasher and had a shave, and went back to sleep for another three hours. I got up and had a quiet few minutes looking at the Internet.
There was an interesting discussion on one of the groups I follow. “Galactic Hitch-hikers” is *supposed* to be a Facebook group about the woks of the late Douglas Adams. I say “discussion”; it was more of a petty squabble. Supporters of Donald Trump posting on that group were asking about the cost of health care in the UK. From what I can work out, people in the UK and the US individually pay *about* the same in taxes (perhaps a little less in the USA), but no one in the UK has to sell their house or go crowd-funding to pay for medical bills.
I made the mistake of saying so.
Most of the UK-based people in the group agreed with me, but some of the Americans took offence. The trouble is that many Americans find the entire concept of the National Health Service to be (as has been described to me several times) “commie-pinko”. To the American mind the idea of anything being provided through tax is abhorrent. There is far more merit in paying for things when needed rather than through regular payments (for some inexplicable reason). I can remember talking with an American scout leader who told me that their scouts paid for each badge when awarded. When I explained ours were funded from a weekly subscription she was horrified.
I also saw that a new geocache had gone live two miles south. I considered charging after a First to Find until I realised it was two miles south of work (not home) and consequently actually seventeen miles north.
And then peace was shattered when "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" came downstairs with Treacle and Pogo (who have become his devoted attendants). He sang his song about bumholes and refused to eat his breakfast. It was difficult to determine which wound his grand-mother up the most.
Eventually we got ourselves organised and took the dogs up the park. We had a mostly good walk up as far as the dog beach. I made a up to that point. And then for no explicable reason "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" went totally hysterical and screamed pretty much the entire way home. Once home the hysteria passed, and he was fine. What on Earth was all that about? I suspect *if* he wasn’t wearing such a thick coat on a warm day and *if* he’d eaten a single meal whilst he’d been with us, things might have been different.
We took "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" back to Margate; I slept all of the way. Once in Margate we spent a few minutes with "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" before heading off to Herne Bay. Geocaching dot com had sent me an email telling me about one of the best geocaches in South East England being there. We drove over and found a rather average sandwich box. Admittedly the hide was rather good, but I’ve seen it done better. There was supposed to be a trackable in the cache; there wasn’t. The thing was in someone’s garden but no mention was made of the fact. The chap who hid it gave up on the game two years ago… OK – I’m being picky, but geo-HQ had taken the trouble to point this one out to me.
Mind you on the plus side I did get to give my new geo-app a trial run and it worked rather well.
We went round to see "My Boy TM" for the evening. Some fathers visit their sons out of a sense of paternal devotion or familial love. I went round to get my birthday pressie and because I’d been promised dinner.
I got a rather good fishing rod (which I shall put to the test tomorrow), and we scoffed far too much curry. Having stuffed myself to the point where I could barely move I collapsed on the sofa and we watched telly until I could get up again.
I’ve loaded up the car, I’ve set the alarm… I’m hoping for great things from tomorrow’s fishing trip…