I slept well last night (for a change) spending over
nine hours asleep in my pit. That was something of a result.
As I made brekkie so my phone beeped. The car parking I’d
bought on the Ringo app last night was about to expire. I hadn’t realized that
there was free parking from six in the evening until eight in the morning, so
by parking at quarter to six and getting an hour’s worth I’d effectively
brought three quarters of an hour’s parking this morning. Woops.
I had my usual look at the Internet. There were a lot less
people wanting to join the “Upstairs Downstairs” Facebook page I help
moderate this morning. The show has started a re-run on ITV3 recently and the
group which used to get two or three membership requests a week has recently
been getting a couple of dozen every day.
There was an argument about the correct name of the Post Office Tower in London. Some
people were pretending not to realise the thing was over sixty years old.
Apparently it is to be converted into a hotel.
I munzed from the sofa and captured “er indoors TM”’s
baby dragon. Then took five goes to get today’s “Wordle”. At the risk of
giving spoilers, today’s answer was “Nerdy” – rather appropriate. I
wrote up some CPD. CPD (continuous professional development) is
something I legally have to do to keep myself up to date with what’s going on
at work, but to anyone who doesn’t test blood it would be incredibly dull. But
within minutes of having written up an incredibly dry few lines about this
week’s newsletter from Oncology Central, that entry had had views.
I set off to work... with a few moments to spare I thought
I might pop into Matalan to get some more work shirts. They had stuff which was
either utterly posh or totally casual. I'll have a look on Amazon later.
Bearing in mind the utter shambles that is Operation Brock
I decided against going up the motorway. I took the A-road instead and stopped
off at Lenham. I thought I might treat myself and got a steak and kidney pie
from the local bakery. I took one bite and the thing utterly disintegrated and
sprayed its contents everywhere. It wasn't so much a pie as a gravy-filled
grenade. It was as well that it came with a foil tray; I ended up slurping the
wreckage out of the tray. Pies do that. If you are ever going to scoff a pie,
have a plate, knife and fork to hand.
Pasties and steak bakes are a different matter, but never trust a pie.
I didn't actually go to Lenham for the pie (I wish I
hadn't now). I've got a geocache
near the church which has had reports of being missing. I had a little walk
across the fields to where it was supposed to be and found it was missing. I
replaced it. It was a shame that the people who logged it as missing couldn't
have done that. You really can replace the thing quicker than you can write a
log saying "it ain't there any more" and save me a load of
pie-related arse-ache. But there it is.
I drove on to the petrol station for fuel both for the car
and myself. Having learned from my earlier pie-related disaster I got a
sandwich and a bag of crisps. And then it was on to work for the late shift.
Work seemed rather odd, but then ever since I've gone part time it's seemed
odd. I'm not quite sure why. I did my bit. I don't really like the late shifts,
but there it is.
I came home to find my new waterfall attachment (for the
bog filter) that I ordered from Amazon had arrived. It was far too small. That’s
going back.
No comments:
Post a Comment