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20 January 2023 (Friday) - Before Another Late Shift

On Tuesday I saw that some of the random buckets in the garden had filled with rain water from last weekend and had frozen solid. I chucked the bucket-shaped lumps of ice onto the gravel and put the buckets so that they wouldn’t fill with rainwater again. This morning as I took the puppies out I saw the bucket-shaped lumps of ice were exactly as I’d left them three days ago. The temperature in the garden clearly hasn’t got above freezing for any length of time over the last three days.
 
The puppies went to bother “er indoors TM  and I made toast and looked at the Internet. Facebook was filled with prostitutes again. Despite their so-called “community standards”, there’s no end of people on there offering to do the dirty deed for cash.
There wasn’t a lot else going on, so I used Google to check the traffic and the best way to get to “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” (bearing in mind the roads locally are difficult in the morning). It failed. Miserably. It presented me with one possible route which was through  the A2070 (which is effectively poggered by road works) to junction ten of the motorway and said no other route was available.
I took pot luck and went to Junction Nine of the motorway via the way I go to work, but at the motorway headed east rather than west. That route was available. I wonder how I tell Google?
 
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about nothing else other than the death of David Crosby who was the singer in The Byrds and in Crosby Stills and Nash. I’d heard of the groups, but I can’t say I’d ever heard of him. Judging by the morning’s radio program it would seem that I was in a minority of one; the world and his wife were coming on air to talk about him. Pretty much everyone was unanimous in their verdict on the chap. No one who knew him liked him, everyone who knew him thought he was obnoxious and that he was a drug addict continually stoned out of his mind, but everyone also thought that this was quite acceptable because he was successful.
The American dream, eh?
 
I got to the abode of “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”. “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TMwas at school, and I had to amuse “Darcie Waa Waa TMwhilst the most recent fruit of my loin had a driving lesson. I turned on “Lube Tube” (as my grandson calls it) and we danced along to the Duck Song, Shaddap You Face, the Gorgeous Tiny Chicken Machine Show, and an hour’s loop of the Baby Shark song. If I wasn’t actively waving “Darcie Waa Waa TM about she would get rather fractious. As she grows she is getting rather heavy to wave about.
I was worn out by the time “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” came home.
 
I had a cuppa, then set off in the general direction of work. I stopped off for petrol before going in to work. With two weeks at Pembury coming up I thought I might make the most of Maidstone’s cheap petrol. The petrol station at Sainsburys near work was flogging petrol twelve pence per litre cheaper than the one in Ashford. The chap in the queue in front of me said he’d just come from Canterbury where the petrol was thirty-two pence per litre more expensive. It pays to shop around…
 
I got to work and did my bit… with the Baby Shark song continually going through my head…

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