6 October 2019 (Sunday) - Getting the Recipe Right

I woke at four o’clock, and had this idea that I might slosh out my sinuses and go back to bed. I squirted salt water up my nose and made myself feel incredibly ill. Feeling nauseous and having given myself really bad toothache I lay in front of the telly for half an hour until blood-stained salty snot stopped pouring out of my beak.
I went back to bed just before five o’clock and slept through until nine o’clock.

Over a rather late brekkie I peered into the Internet. I saw that “Access All Areas” had been playing locally last night. I’d forgotten about that, but I don’t think I would have been well enough to have gone anyway.
Seeing how the forecast rain had fizzed out, we took the dogs round the park for a little walk. The walk went well; no fights or scraps is always appreciated. We came home to a cuppa and a cake, and "er indoors TM" then drove off to Margate to visit "Daddy’s Little Angel TM". I thought about going, but instead stayed with the dogs. I sat myself on the sofa and sweated with a pounding headache.

I did a little more Wherigo programming to take my mind off of feeling quite so grim, and by mid-day I was starting to feel more human. I got myself a bag of crisps for lunch and scoffed it whilst watching the last episode of “Pride and Prejudice”, then was struck with divine inspiration. As all else had clearly failed, I re-read the instructions for this salt-water nasal washing malarkey. It turned out I’d been using far too much of stuff that I had made to be far too salty.
No wonder I’d been making myself ill.
I tried the required dose of one squirt of twenty millilitres (*not* a pint) of stuff that was rather dilute (*not* “stronger than the dead sea”) and it wasn’t entirely dreadful. I didn’t spend the next hour in serious pain.
With nothing else on the agenda I then sat on the sofa, and wrote more Wherigo for most of the day. I got to the point that all I needed was to get one photograph of a final location and so I took the dogs out to get that photo.

As we walked we had “an episode”. Treacle stopped to have a dump. As I was about to clear it up some chap came up the road with some rather odd-looking children. The more weird-looking child tried to rudely barge through where we were standing. “Look out” I said. “You are about to walk through a load of dog shit”. The chap (who looked rather “special” himself) then got rather aggressive about why I was being nasty to his child. Apparently it is every freak’s God-given right to blunder wherever the voices in their heads should lead them. After a lot of squabbling this chap eventually realised why I’d stopped the child, but he did say that he thought I hadn’t been very clear in what I’d said, and that I’d offended and upset his child.
If any of my loyal readers know a clearer way of warning about dog shit than saying “Look out! You are about to walk through a load of dog shit”, please do let me know.

We came home, I incorporated that photo into the Wherigo, and then I drafted a rather bitter whinge to put onto the local geocaching Facebook page.
Basically someone had been having a dig (on-line) at a series of geocaches a friend had hidden a little while ago. There seems to be a growth industry in this, and (as is the case with most hobbies) the less someone contributes to a hobby, the more critical they are of those who get off their bums and do things. Someone had boiled my piss recently in this way. The chap who rattled my cage has only ever hidden twenty-seven caches in total. Only one of these has been hidden in the last seven years, and only three of them are still active. Mind you he’s found over eleven thousand of the things. He certainly gets a lot out without putting anything at all back in, doesn’t he?
In the past few weeks and months I’ve had my failings listed and explained to me by several people of this ilk; those who’ve found thousands of caches without putting out a single one.
Bearing in mind how few film pots are getting hidden under rocks these days you’d think those who get their thrills from hunting them wouldn’t want to discourage others from hiding them, wouldn’t you?
In the end decided not to post the whinge (even though part of me thought I should). Life is too short for squabbles.

And in closing today was National Grandparent’s Day… did anyone else notice that one?

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