I had a bit of a lie-in this morning. When I woke “er indoors TM” had already gone downstairs. Pogo and Treacle were still on the bed with me. Treacle leapt up but Pogo didn’t. I lifted him off the bed and we came downstairs to find “er indoors TM” dealing with a poop bonanza in the puppies’ crate. Clearly I shouldn’t lie in but should get up to see to the babies earlier.
“er indoors TM” did dog brekkie, and Pogo wasn’t first in the queue. I watched him moving very awkwardly on the sofa as I went on-line to register another negative COVID test, and saw I had a message through Facebook. “Emily Brandon” had said “Hello, how you doing. I'm Mistress Emily and i personally seek a slave to serve me. So tell me your name, age, and more about yourself. If your interested”.
I reported her to the Facebook Feds, as much for her poor grammar as for her porn-mongering. Mind you, judging by the amount of filth I get on my Facebook feed I suspect she is just the sort of person they are after.
Whilst I was on Facebook I saw there was some big “Thank You NHS Workers” concert in London last night to which NHS staff who had kept going all through the pandemic had been offered tickets…
Or so it was claimed.
Like most of the freebies that have been offered to NHS staff, this came as something of a surprise to most NHS staff who found out about it after it had all happened.
“er indoors TM” distracted the puppies and I took Pogo and Treacle to the woods for a walk. We had a good walk doing one of our longer circuits. We met a few other dog walkers, but all passed off well. Pogo seemed to be walking fine, but when we got back to the car I had to lift him in. He’s done something to his back; probably twisted it when playing the “catch” game that he loves to play. We shall have to watch him – being so overweight doesn’t help. If only he understood the need for a diet… mind you I’m not that good at that myself.
As we drove home I managed to press the wrong button on the car radio, and I discovered that it has got DAB. Digital audio broadcasting is absolutely archetypal of our age. It uses all sorts of wonderful technology to give an end result absolutely no different to that on which it is supposed to be a vast improvement. As I drove I kept flipping between the DAB and FM versions of various radio stations and could hear no difference whatsoever.
Once home we took the puppies into the garden where I hung out laundry. We came in, and all four dogs soon settled (on me) and I spent an hour writing up CPD and sulking about having to do so.
If I am to continue as a professional blood tester I am legally obliged to produce evidence of keeping myself up-to-date with developments in my field. I don’t get paid for doing that… in much the same way that no one got paid for going to last night’s “Thank You NHS Workers” concert either…
I went to bed for the afternoon where I slept for a few hours with Treacle and Pogo keeping me company. The puppies slept in their crate – they are too small to be left unsupervised for now.
I got up and we all went into the garden where in a little over-excitement over feeding the fish Morgan got pushed into the pond. He swam to the shallower end where I hoiked him out, and he sat on my lap as I towelled him dry as I watched an episode of “Orange is the New Black”.
The trouble is that three other dogs wanted a go with the towel too; seeing it as some sort of new way of making a fuss…
I’m off to the night shift in a bit… the last one I did was a bit like hard work. Let’s hope this one isn’t quite so bad…
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