4 February 2020 (Tuesday) - Before the Night Shift

As I came home on the train yesterday I could feel my throat becoming rather tender. I woke this morning with a sore throat and something of a headache. I picked up a bug at yesterday’s funeral. I wonder how many other people have also gone down with it?

As I scoffed toast this morning I saw that the few photos I took at yesterday’s funeral had received reactions and comments from all sorts of people. I often get stick from using my phone to photograph everything, but sometimes it is well worth doing.
I also saw that I had been selected to get a Gerry Anderson 2020 calendar at a specially discounted rate… Of course they are knocking them out at a discounted rate; it is now February and they clearly printed too many.
And talking of throwing money away there was a lot of talk on some of Facebook’s fishing pages. When going for a weekend’s fishing you can take a “bivvy”. “Bivvies” are popular among carp fishermen for the simple reason that not many who go fishing can spell or pronounce the word “bivouac”. The latest bivvy to hit the market retails for nine hundred pounds.
It takes less than twenty seconds to find a comparable tent for a tenth of the price, but the “proper” carp fishermen posting on the Internet this morning seemed to think there was some merit in spending ten times too much money.

I loaded the dogs into the car and we drove up to Kings Wood. A couple of weeks ago we’d walked round the top end, and I thought I might try that walk again. There’s no denying that the walk had been easier a couple of weeks ago when the mud had still been frozen, but we had a good stroll. We climbed trees, we ate horse poo, we had a warning from the Met Office, we played piggy-back (!) with other dogs; we had a good stroll.
I took a few photos as we walked purely because I could.

Once home the dogs had a bath and were soon all snoring. Despite having been thoroughly scrubbed, Pogo retained quite a bit of dried mud up his legs, but by the time I’d seen it he was fast asleep, and I didn’t fancy the rigmarole of scrubbing him again.
I popped up the road to get a sandwich, watched a little telly then went to bed for the afternoon. I slept surprisingly well; Treacle slept with me; Pogo and Fudge remained downstairs and held off having any utterly unnecessary barking fits for three hours.

"er indoors TM" has taken Treacle to the vet for her MOT in a minute (Treacle’s MOT; not "er indoors TM"’s) and I’m off to the night shift.
I still feel a bit iffy…

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