23 March 2022 (Wednesday) - Before The Late Shift

I slept like a log last night and woke at half past seven still feeling tired. What was that all about? I didn’t make toast; I had another Slimfast shake thingy then had a look at the Internet as I do.

It was still there,

I saw a friend had started a business in which people pay her for the privilege of sitting around in the village hall whilst she makes all sorts of odd noises by running a wet finger round the edges of various large pots and occasionally clouting them with a drumstick (the pots, not the people). She calls it “sound therapy” and the masses can’t give her their money quick enough. I suppose I’m just jealous that I didn’t think that one up.

And I was rather sad to see that geocaching HQ have announced a new load of souvenirs for the next few months – you go out and find some (thirty) geocaches in April and May and you’ll get a couple of e-souvenirs. I suppose I will play the game, but it bothers me that there is so much more that the paid staff at geo-HQ could be doing. I’ve ranted about this before, but this e-souvenir for going and finding caches is just a re-hash of something they’ve been doing for some time now. Looking at the public profile of many of my friends who used to be active in the noble pursuit of rummaging for film pots in hedges it is clear that a lot of them didn’t bother with the last load of e-souvenirs.

Such  a shame geo-HQ won’t do something more original that might bring back the punters that are leaving geocaching (in droves) to go play other silly games.

 

As I got up from brekkie (Slimfast), Treacle was rather funny. She (and all the other dogs) have never made any secret that “er indoors ^TM” is their favourite, and they follow her like second shadows (all the time top favourite person “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” is elsewhere). But Treacle was all over me this morning. She knows who takes her up the park in the mornings of a late shift.

I filled the washing machine, and we set off.

We had a minor “episode” as we walked up Christchurch Road. Some woman was walking along the pavement toward us. Clearly she didn’t like dogs, or was scared of them. Surely the obvious thing to do was to cross over the (very quiet) road when she was still fifty yards away. But instead she waited until we were walking past her (with me between her and Treacle) when she screamed and leapt into the road. I pointed out that it was a rather small dog on the end of the lead, and not a tiger, and we carried on our way, leaving her standing in the way of oncoming traffic.

And then as we walked round the park we saw a woman with a russet-coloured spaniel. As we passed she did the biggest fart you ever did hear. I hurried away gripped with a fit of the giggles.

 

We came home. Treacle was soon fast asleep, and I emptied the washing machine and set a second load going, then made a cuppa and with it I had a Slimfast choc caramel treat. It was surprisingly good, lasted far longer than a biccie, and was less calories.

I wrote up a little CPD, but soon lost interest in it. It is on the dull side. Instead I solved the puzzle for a puzzle geocache that had gone live this morning. I thought it might give me a little adventure before work until I discovered that finding it would mean a twenty-mile diversion. I thought better of that. Had I been working in Pembury today, things might have been different. Instead I spent a little while looking up suitable names for a small white dog (for no reason at all!) and found pretty much every suitable name had already been taken by either a colleague, friend or granddaughter.

 

Leaving Treacle snoring and dreaming (dogs really do have dreams!) I set of to work. There was something on the radio about men who use violence against women, and (as always with this sort of thing) I formed the distinct impression that those talking held me personally responsible for every bit of abuse that has ever happened. So I turned it off and howled along to my own choice of music as I crawled up the motorway to the petrol station.

Usually when on the late shift I would get a sandwich and a grab-bag of crisps for lunch when getting petrol but being on a diet I gave that a miss, and drove to the works car park where I read my Kindle app for a bit and scoffed a “Very Berry Meal Replacement Bar” before going in to work. 

And that was it for the day really. A very busy late shift, and then a diversion round Hermitage Lane meant I was ten minutes late getting to the motorway along which I crawled home.