Other than “er indoors TM” having
a fight with Morgan in the small hours I slept well. From time to time he licks his paws for no
reason, and was doing so quite noisily last night. Apparently. I slept through any
noise he might have been making. It was someone else that woke me.
I made toast, and had my usual root around the Internet.
Today there was an argument on the Kent Geocachers page. Someone was whinging
about why an ex-hunter of Tupperware wasn’t doing cache maintenance any more.
And that whinge summed up all that is wrong with the noble and ancient art of
hunting Tupperware. So many people want to go looking for film pots under rocks.
But so few are prepared to put the things out themselves. It’s the old, old
argument. It speaks volumes that I for one really don’t want to put them out,
and I’m the county’s second most active hider.
If people would like to put out a series there’s plenty of
space in the county. I’ve got cache locations of series I’ve archived in
Bethersden, Great Chart, Sevington and Witchling that I’m willing to share. People
wouldn’t have to work out routes to walk; all they’d have to do would be to
stick a film pot under a rock and tell the geo-feds they’ve done it. I made the
offer on-line.
So far no one has taken me up on it.
I took the dogs out. As we drove there was some dire drivel
on the radio about some woman who was once queen of France but jacked it all in
to become queen of Scotland. I suppose it could have been interesting, but the
presenter was determined to kill the subject stone dead. I listened for a
while; wondering why something so dull would be on national radio. I eventually
gave up and sang along to Ivor Biggun as we drove up to the woods.
The woods were rather busy today. We met nine other groups
with dogs, and every encounter passed off without episode. There was one dog
who I thought Morgan was playing rather aggressively with but that dog wanted
to walk with us and followed us as the rest of his group walked off..
One group we met was a young mother with two small children
on bikes. And they were like every other group of young mothers with two small
children on bikes that I’ve ever seen. Young mothers always demand that the
children cycle at walking pace. It isn’t possible to cycle that slowly, and the
children constantly wobble all over the place and fall off. If you are going to
take small children out on bikes you either need to run or have a bike
yourself. It ain’t rocket science.
We came home. I had a cuppa and cracked on in the garden. I
trimmed back more of not-so-nice-next-door’s brambles, then cleaned out
the pond’s filter and with that done had a general tidy-up.
And then we had a delivery. On Saturday I said “What I
needed was some of those strips of stones glued to some sort of backing
material”. I ordered some off of Amazon and they arrived today. It only
took me a few minutes to realise they were shite (and that’s being generous).
I opened the packaging to see that quite a few stones had already fallen off of
the backing. And the backing material was so flimsy that it couldn’t hold its
own weight, and whilst trying to put it into place it stretched and bent itself
entirely out of shape.
Thankfully “er indoors TM” came
up with an idea to sort out what those strips of stones would be covering. I
ordered something else from Amazon, and hopefully I’ll get the current pond
project finished in a few days.
I sat down with another cuppa and wrote up some CPD, then opened
up my Lego plum blosson set and spent an hour or so building it. What with the rain
starting and then hossing down it wasn’t as though I could do much else.
“er indoors TM” boiled up her
version of plov, and we scoffed it whilst watching “Lego Masters: Australia”.
With that watched
Bailey asked to go into the garden. I went with her – she tends to play silly
beggars in the dark. As I waved the torch around I saw movement. We’ve got a
frog in our small pond.
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