I had one of those
episodes last night where I woke feeling full of energy and raring to go, only
to find it as half past one. I then dozed, waking every twenty minutes or so.
I
gave up trying to sleep, “did” the puppies, then made some brekkie and
had a quick look at the Internet.
Squabbles
abounded on the “Normalising Atheism” Facebook page I’ve started
following. It’s an odd part of the Internet in which people of all sorts of
faith spout stark nonsense to try (and fail) to persuade anyone who will
listen about the validity of their particular brand of religion, whilst atheist
use logic and reason to show that their ideas are ridiculous at best. Today
several people were arguing about the efficacy of prayer; in the cases being
discussed (ranted about) demonstrably it didn’t work, but hard evidence
is nothing compared to blind faith.
And
they let these people vote, you know…
There
was also an advert for “The Ramblers” featuring two rather foxy young
ladies in a shallow attempt to attract the sad sorts that would go sniffing
round two rather foxy young ladies.
I
had an email from the Credit Karma people telling me my credit rating had
improved by eleven points over the last month. I wonder why. And I saw that my
watch had measured that I’d done thirty-eight steps before I picked it up.
I
then sighed as I sent out a birthday wish to an old schoolmate who has now
retired and got ready for work.
I
set off in the dark, driving to the car park of the railway station. I parked
there and capped four Munzee Points of Interest (as I so often do). The
place was rather quiet. So it should be - the railway workers were on strike
today. I know the strikers are frowned
upon, but I was talking with a good friend at the weekend who is himself one of
the strikers. His side of the sorry tale really needs telling.
He's
been offered a relatively decent pay rise (compared to the piss-poor amount
I've been offered) for this year and next... and then he will get
compulsory redundancy in 2025. Have you ever tried to get a job when you are
the wrong side of fifty? He's not hanging on for a silly pay rise. He's hanging
on for a job.
I
then went to the Vicarage Lane Car Park for five more Points of Interest (which
were far less interesting that you might think), then went to Sainsbury's
for petrol as I only had forty miles worth left in the car. I rarely let the
thing get so empty.
Petrol
was far cheaper than it has been for ages... but still at a quid and a half a
litre they ain't giving it away. Being short of the stuff I went to the Ashford
Sainsburys petrol station where having a face like a slapped arse seems to be a
prerequisite to getting a job there. I'm sure that if either of the two miseries
behind the counter had smiled, their faces would have cracked.
Co-incidentally
as I drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were talking about falling
fuel prices. They wheeled on some gasbag or other who went on at great length
about how a drop in the wholesale price of fuel in no way means a cheaper gas
or leccie bill for the likes of me, nor should it. Petrol, yes. Gas and leccie,
no. One lives and learns.
With
a few minutes spare (I'd deliberately left home early) I drove past the
hospital and went on to the nearby housing estate where I Qrewzee-ed. This
involved Munzing Munzees which hadn't been Munzed for over a year. There are
those who might (with good reason) see this as something of a waste of
time, but it was good for a little walk; putting two thousand steps onto my
watch's step counter. My new watch is constantly pestering me to walk at least
six thousand steps each day, and it gets quite fractious when I sit still at
the microscope for any length of time... and then it makes sarcastic comments
whenever I do get up and walk anywhere.
As
I sat still at the microscope (with my watch getting progressively more and
more fractious) I phoned the probate people. When I applied for probate on
Dad's estate the government website said to give it eight weeks. Eight weeks
have passed... now they say to give it sixteen weeks...
I
also phoned the pension people for a quote for what pension I'd get if I jacked
it all in tomorrow. The quote will take a couple of weeks to come, so maybe I'd
better not jack it in for a fortnight. Not that I want to jack it in... Well...
Don't get me wrong. Unlike ten years ago I'm quite happy with my job in that
the thought of the thing no longer makes me feel physically ill. But I'm
getting on a bit, and I'm tired with it all. Maybe taking my pension and going
back part-time? I'll see what the numbers look like before I sigh (again)
and just get on with the job.
Rather
than coming straight home I went on to Lego club. I couldn’t stay long what
with having an early start tomorrow, but I made the most of the half-hour I had
there. Part of me wonders if we met in a pub we might avoid the children that clearly
don’t want to be there and just run round screaming and shouting, but those of
us that were Lego-ing had a good time. And I’m just an old grump.
The
trouble with meeting in a guide hut is that all scout and guide huts are echo
chambers…
Now for an early night…
I’m knackered…
No comments:
Post a Comment