I went to bed last night and slept for an hour or so before
the dogs woke me. I nodded off again only to be woken by the noise of one of “er
indoors TM”’s phones randomly phoning the other. I then lay
awake for much of the night before giving up and getting up. I watched an
episode of “All The Light We Cannot See” then sparked up the lap-top.
The Internet was its usual brand of nonsense. Overnight my
Facebook Friend count had gone down by one. Someone hates me. I saw no end of
photos of Alyson Hannigan (why?)
and quite a few adverts for fish pond filters. You’d think whoever makes these
spybots would figure out a way of not bothering us with the adverts once we’d
bought whatever it was we were looking for.
Several friends were banging on about how cash is far
superior to credit cards. Cash is ideal for two sorts of people; people who
like wasting their time going to a shop rather than having stuff delivered, and
tax dodgers.
I had a message from “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”
who had a guts ache. I told her it was probably wind. It probably was.
And I had an email. Yesterday I saw that the pockets were wearing
through on my trousers so I ordered up another pair from Amazon. They were
posted out ah twenty past three this morning and I was told they should be
arriving today. That’s the way forward isn’t it? Had I been farting about with
cash I wouldn’t be able to get to the shops until Wednesday at the earliest.
And the fish food I’d ordered was on the way too.
Again I tried chasing the unicorn which was scattering magical
stars as I walked to the car; today it was gambolling in the same direction as
I was going, and I got six before we parted ways. I've now got enough to drop
into a wishing well and make a wish. Wishing wells, magical unicorns - there
really never is a dull moment in Munzee.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about how
the Irish Taoiseach has got the arse. Ever since the UK government got the
legal thumbs-up to send illegal
immigrants to Rwanda the illegal immigrants have started running to
Ireland; they don't want to go to Rwanda, do they? Not surprisingly, the Irish
don't want them, and the Irish want the British to take them back. The British
government is taking the line that if we take illegal immigrants back from one
EU country when they leave the UK, then the EU should take them back from us if
they enter the UK from the EU. That strikes me as quite reasonable. And so all of them coming across the channel
from France should go back to France. The French aren't keen...
Hopefully if the word gets out that the UK won't house them any
more, the illegal immigrants will stop coming, and the entire Rwanda thing will
be resolved. Whilst I do feel for the poor people running from all sorts of
horrors, once they are safe (entering Europe) do they really need to
keep running for hundreds of miles to come to the UK? (No - they don't!)
And there was another interview with Patrick Harvie the
leader of the Scottish Green party. Ostensibly being interviewed about the plight
of the Scottish premier he was (just like I mentioned last week)
more keen on spouting what he'd come to spout; talking through everything the
interviewer put to him.
As I worked “er indoors TM” sent the news that the birds
had started scoffing from the feeder I'd got them last Thursday. Just as well;
it cost enough. So far they've only had a go at the seed feeder. Hopefully they
will have a go at the fat balls eventually.
She also said that the fish food and my new trousers had arrived
too.
And “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” sent
me the Weiner Dog
song. Since he got his own mobile he's been sending me occasional silly videos
from Lube-Tube (as he
used to call it).
Getting home took some doing this evening. I eventually got
out of the works car park at about the time I would usually get home; there was
some major hold-up on the roads. I got home to find I had two friend requests
on Facebook.
What a pair of delightful young ladies…
The more innocent looking one (on the left) had sent
a quite indecent message with her friend request. The other one just sent the photo.
However bearing in mind the sort of saucy undercrackers that these sorts
usually wear, I think that this one has a lot of catching up to do…
I’ve got to go to work again tomorrow. Three days on the
trot – can you believe it?
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