22 October 2019 (Tuesday) - Rostered Day Off
I came home from work last night feeling washed out. I had an early night and slept like a log. I think I’m still not completely recovered from that nasal re-bore of three weeks ago.
I got up, made myself some toast and had a look at Facebook. Someone was selling a pair of Wilko headphones for three quid. Three quid… is it worth the aggro of creating the listing and dealing with all the idiot emails that such a listing will generate? And who’d go to go out of their way up to Repton Park to collect them when you can get brand new ones in the town centre for not much more? Mind you there seems to be a growth industry in using the Facebook selling sites rather than a dustbin these days. I suppose if you can sell a dustbin’s worth of rubbish (rather than chucking it), it’s all profit, isn’t it?
I also read that there was a cow loose on the road a mile south from home…
Not being at work today I drove to Margate. I arrived a little early so I went for a walk up the sea front. I discovered that Margate has got a tidal swimming pool. I also discovered a film pot under a rock not far from it.
I then spent an hour or so with the most recent fruit of my loins. She filled me in with all the gossip. Like most gossip there was more rumour than truth, but that’s the good thing about gossip. For example it is common knowledge that her local milkman is getting his milk from the cash and carry rather than from the dairy from which he picks up his milk float every day. The fact that he is selling the dairy’s brand of milk rather than the cash and carry’s doesn’t seem to abate these rumours in the slightest.
As I came home there was an article on the radio which made me sit up and take notice. There was an interview with a forensic scientist. She’d provided evidence for a court case which proved the guilt of the accused beyond any shadow of doubt. There was no way that the accused could possibly be innocent. However the jury found the chap “not guilty” because the child he’s supposedly (actually) raped didn’t cry that much when being questioned in court and the jury had taken a dislike to her.
British justice, eh?
I got home; I cleared up the humungous turd that Pogo had laid. I l know it was Pogo as the turd was bigger than Fudge or Treacle.
We then did our trick of “Boot Dogs” and all drove out to Ripper’s Wood. One of my geocaches there had gone missing and needed replacing, and Ripper’s Wood has the advantage that you can walk right round without meeting anyone else. Thinking about it, I’ve never met anyone at all when walking there. Perhaps that’s a tad antisocial of me, but sometimes I like just being “me and my dogs (plus one)”.
With dogs walked I had a spot of lunch. I watched ten minutes of the third episode of “Living With Yourself” on Netflix, then turned it off. I realised that I didn’t relate to any of the characters at all. A sign of good drama is how you react to the characters. You might like them. You might loathe them. But you react to them. There wasn’t a single character in this show who had prompted any reaction from me at all.
Instead I watched the 2004 film version of “Vanity Fair” on Netflix. To be honest that wasn’t *that* good either, but it was something to watch whilst I did the ironing. No day not at work is complete without doing the ironing.
Bake Off’s on telly soon… I think I might crack open a bottle of plonk…