I slept like
a log last night, for which I was grateful. Over brekkie I peered into the
Internet only to find it was much the same as ever. Half a dozen people posted
photos of what they had done over the weekend; dozens of people were commenting
on what the half-dozen had done. I wish more people would post what they get up
to at the weekends (or just at any time) as I am a rather nosey person.
Squabbles
also abounded on social media. They so often do. But I did snigger when I read
about “Leave
means Leave – North West”’s opinion poll. A pro-Brexit group
have managed to get twenty thousand people to vote in their survey. Over ninety
per cent of the votes being in favour of “remain”. Something of an own
goal there?
I also had an
email from some brewery quibbling about the specifics of which beer I’d logged
on my Untappd app at the beer festival on Saturday. It looks like I logged the
wrong beer… who cares? Who would really take the time to point out such a
trivial error?
I suppose
some people make that their hobby? I deleted the check-in. It would probably
avoid all sorts of arguments in the long run.
I had planned to take the dogs
for a walk this morning, but with the rain still falling I thought we might put
it off for a while. Instead I went through my letter rack. I stick all my
letters into a rack, and then once every few months I go through them and
thrown them all away.
With letters thrown away I
settled the dogs and drove down to Ham Street. I had a voucher for Wyevale
garden centres for Christmas, and bearing in mind my wellie leaked yesterday I
thought I might use the voucher on new wellies. I got to Ham Street to find the
garden centre there isn’t a Wyevale one any more. They politely refused to
accept the voucher. The closest Wyevales are in Canterbury or Hastings. At the
risk of appearing ungrateful, my voucher’s not going to get used in a hurry.
Mind you, on the plus side the new wellies I bought in Ham Street garden centre
were priced at sixteen quid, but the chap on the tills only charged me eleven
quid. I saw that as a result.
I came home via Bethersden.
There is a particular geocache there which was the closest to home which I
hadn’t found. Looking at the map it was across some fields, and I thought it
might be a good trial run for my new wellies. I parked up as close as I could
to the thing and stomped through six hundred yards of mud until my phone said I
was within ten yards of the thing.
Having read previous reports I
knew this wasn’t going to be an easy find. Very experienced hunters of
Tupperware had blanked here. Several people had given up after several
attempts. People had mentioned sticking mobile phones in holes in trees to take
photos and having to shove arms shoulder-deep into holes in trees. I found what
looked like an obvious tree and shoved my arm into what looked like an obvious
hole. No joy. I saw another obvious hole rather low on the tree. I got down
into the mud and shoved my arm up inside the tree. Nothing.
Just as I was on the point of
storming off in a sulk I got a stick and scraped all the leaf litter out of the
bottom of the tree. Amongst the leaf litter was the plastic tub I was after. I’ve
now found every geocache within five and a half miles of home.
On the way back to the car I met
a rather friendly horse…
I came home via the tip where I
got rid of my old boots. I came home to a very quiet house. Usually the dogs
bark when I come home. There wasn’t a squeak as I opened the door. All three
were sitting very quietly; all looking very ashamed. The contents of the
kitchen bin were strewn everywhere. I suppose I should have taken that lot to
the tip as well.
Seeing how the rain had
slackened off to a mild drizzle I got leads on to the dogs, and we went round
the park. As we walked we didn’t meet any other dogs (which was a result)
and other than polite nods, everyone else left us alone. Sometimes (especially
when on my own with all three dogs) that is for the best.
With walk walked I fed shirts
into the washing machine, had a sandwich, swapped shirts for undercrackers, and
spent a few hours doing the laundry. As I ironed I watched a double episode of
“Prison Break”. Yesterday I mentioned that the star of the show had
died; that didn’t stop him starring in today’s special, and I understand that
he continues in the next season of the show as well.
"er indoors TM" boiled up dinner
and went bowling. I soon found myself underneath a pile of sleeping dogs from
where I watched a film on Netflix. “The Cured” was set in an
Ireland just after a zombie apocalypse. Scientists had developed a vaccine to
cure being a zombie, but the cured were facing quite a bit of discrimination from
those who hadn’t been zombies. These people had the hump with the ex-zombies because
they had eaten all the non-zombies’ loved ones. Some of the cured were forming
an alliance against those who would make them an oppressed minority. Some might
say the film was allegorical of the sectarian troubles in Ireland. Others might
say that the film was a load of old crap.
I’ll just say that’s an hour and a half of my life wasted…
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