There
was no time for telly this morning. One of the puppies had a "potty
emergency" overnight. Sorting the mess wasted half an hour.
Leaving
them asleep with “er indoors TM” (and their bedding
churning in the washing machine) I drove off to work listening to the
farming news. The Labour farming spokesman was on the radio banging on about
how a Labour government would have food production as the number one priority
for farms. You'd think this would be rather obvious, wouldn't you? However it
was pointed out that many farmers currently make more money from planting trees
or having solar panels on their land than they ever did from "proper"
farming. And this was followed by an interview with someone whose farm isn't so
much a working farm as a holiday camp for inner-city schoolchildren who go
there for "the farm experience". The woman interviewed implied
that they kept enough livestock and planted enough crops to impress the
schoolkids, and the government subsidised any shortfall.
Funny
old world...
There
was then a lot of talk about the selection of the new Prime Minister. I
listened with something of an amazed air. Choosing Liz Truss took two months.
We were assured time and again that it was not possible to get the election
done any faster, and it all turned out to be an utter disaster anyway.
It
was said this morning that the next Prime Minister will be in place within a
week or so.
How
does that work?
I
got to work just as dawn was breaking. I didn't really want to be at work
today. I would much rather have gone to "Dog Club" (the
weekly dachshund meet-up) and then come home via the geo-meet-up in Mote
Park which had been scheduled. But there it is... I've been working weekends on
and off all my life. You'd think that after forty-one years I'd stop whinging
about it, wouldn't you? And for all that I had to work Thursday night, I had a
good morning with “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” and
“Darcie Waa Waa TM” before it, and yesterday “er indoors TM”
took the day off and the day was rather
good. It's just that work is rather dull in comparison... even if I did spend (possibly)
far too long today peering out of the window watching the goldfinches bathing
in the puddles on the flat roof. There is a flock of them who live in the tree
opposite the blood bank window; they love wallowing in the puddles that form on
the roof after the rain. But they are funny... they are quite content to be
watched; seeing people watching them from the window doesn't bother them at
all. But they *are* bothered by any cameras. They *really* don't
like being photographed having their bath.
Bit
like most people really, I suppose.
I
did my bit; I came home. I came home to a letter from the funeral director with
their final bill. I paid it; to be fair they did an excellent job. They had
also sent on a couple more donations for the hospice… Dad wanted any donations
from his funeral to go to the local hospice. But the funeral directors aren’t
allowed (by law) to forward the cheques to the hospice. They have to
send them to me so that can send them
on. They admit it’s daft, but it’s the law.
I
slobbed in front of the telly for a bit watching “Ancient Aliens” is
a complete load of old tripe in which pretty much every single event in human
history is claimed to be the result of aliens farting around for no adequately
explored reason. Have you ever seen it/ it is so bad that it is hilarious…
Perhaps
those turds I found this morning weren’t anything to do with the puppies…
Perhaps it was aliens?
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