I
had planned to start off today by saying “it’s not been a bad Bank Holiday”
as it was my first Bank Holiday not working since the beginning of May 2021 and
my second not working Bank Holiday since August 2019. But despite some rather
productive garden work and impressing myself with my woodworking skills it
could have been a lot better. If only Dad had been well enough to get to the
bingo afternoon; he’d been looking forward to it for so long.
Talking
of which I phoned the hospital to ask after him. No news is good news I
suppose; there had been no change overnight. I made my appointment to visit (I
suppose it makes sense) and watched half of yesterday’s episode of “House
of the Dragon” which so far seems entertaining enough. I suspect like “Game
of Thrones” (the show on which it is based) it will benefit from
being watched a few more times.
I
set the dishwasher going. That's quite a thing these days. Back in the old
kitchen we had a smaller one which was just right for two of us. We've now got
a humungous one, and since I'm too mean to run it half (three-quarters)
empty it only goes on twice a week. And when it finishes it takes some emptying
(!)
I
got dressed, and chuckled as I saw Treacle and Morgan cuddled up together. An
hour earlier Treacle had had quite the grumbles and snarls about the puppies
coming up for the last couple of hours of the night, and there they were
snuggled up together.
I
drove through the rain to work. As I drove some admiral or other was trying to
make light of the UK's aircraft carrier HMS Prince of Wales having broken down. What an admission; it
was all over the news. I bet the Russians and the Chinese keep quiet when their
aircraft carriers go west...
And
there was quite a bit of talk of the Chancellor of the Exchequer Nadhim Zahawi
who was off on a jolly to America. Bearing in
mind the new Prime Minister will be announced soon, he'll probably be out of a
job within the week, so why not make the most of it and get the freebie holiday
when he can. I would - wouldn't you?
But
the main news of the day was the announcement that thousands of pubs face closure as they can't afford
the ongoing energy costs and rising bills.
The
cost of living crisis is hitting everyone; for a long time a trip to the pub
has been something of a luxury. If people can't afford to eat and heat their
homes, a cheeky piss-up certainly not in
the budget. The chap being interviewed was quite open that he can’t pass on his
costs to the public any more, and was hoping (demanding) that the
government subsidise him.
Will
this be the death knell for pubs? Will they go the way of The Golden Egg and
Rumbelows?
Work
was the same as ever. I worked through what might have been tea break so that I
could get out a tad earlier than usual when on the early shift, and set off to
Eastbourne. Looking at the map there is no easy way to get from Maidstone to
Eastbourne but at least I did it in daylight today (unlike last Friday night).
Next
time I will take the main roads and totally ignore the sat-nav which was
obsessed with taking the narrowest of country lanes.
So there
I was driving along Smith’s Hill (B2010) when White Van Man came flying
round the corner far too fast openly fiddling about on his mobile phone. The
lane might have been wide enough for us to pass at walking speed (but only
just). I swerved and scraped the hedges, and out of the corner of my eye I
saw the look of panic on his face. But he didn’t slow down at all, and was out
of sight in less than two seconds…
Presumably
his van is scratched up too; I have no way of knowing. It has been suggested
that I might have benefitted from a dash-cam. But (to the best of my
recollection) this is my first smack-up in eighteen years.
After an
hour and a half I eventually got to Eastbourne Hospital. Dad seemed far better
than he was over the weekend, but was still very tired. He dozed off after
twenty minutes, and I slipped off.
Getting
home was much easier (and less traumatic) than getting there.
Oh…
today would have been Fudge’s twelfth birthday…
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