As I scoffed toast I had my usual root around the
Internet. There’s a new goat at the goat sanctuary. “Gregory” was found
wandering around Birling; a village not far from junction four of the M20.
Presumably an unwanted pet? You wouldn’t lose a goat and not realise, would
you? But why abandon the poor thing. Why not just take him straight to the goat
sanctuary and say that you can’t cope with him?
I munzed and wordled and got ready for the off.
With dogs on leads (and small one in a coat) we
set off. As we drove to the woods there was an
interview on the radio with Sara Pascoe who
was being asked what advice she’d give her younger self. It was rather interesting, and made me think.
What advice would I give to me back in the seventies?
Work harder at school and give the church a lot less
priority I think. For all that I met “er indoors TM” through
the church, looking back had I not flunked out of school half way through
A-levels with an end of year average of twenty-eight per cent I could have been
a doctor or solicitor. But when all my mates (who went on to be doctors and
solicitors and incredibly rich) were doing their studying I was doing Boys
Brigade and bible study classes.
With reports of one of my geocaches having gone
missing I wanted to check it, so we parked in the lower car park at Kings
Wood... eventually. Some idiot had parked right across the entrance. But once
parked we had a good walk. We stayed to the wider paths and were soon where the
missing geocache was supposed to be. It was missing. The entire area had been flailed
flat and the cache and its hide had been destroyed. I popped a new cache out,
and we continued our walk. We had a good walk. We avoided the worst of the mud,
I found yet another sink hole. We met another group of one woman and six dogs.
That seemed rather keen.
After three and a half miles we were back at the car.
Parked next to us was a van of a dog-walking firm. Presumably that was the
woman with the six dogs? Could I jack it all in at work and become a
professional dog walker? I probably could, but being lazy suits me in that
tomorrow I shall just turn up at work and do my thing then go home again. I
always remember an uncle who was self-employed who spent all day working doing
the actual job, and then spent several hours every evening doing all the admin
and paperwork for the business.
We came home and I sorted a cuppa, then went into the
garden and pootled. Last week “er indoors TM” spotted
a rat on the bird feeder. The rat trap was an abject failure, so I had this
idea of building some sort of thingy to hold the bird feeder where the rat
can’t get to it. It didn’t take long to build – let’s see if it works. If it
doesn’t collapse by the weekend I’ll dob a coat of paint on it.
I came in and had a stroke of genius concerning the pi
function of prime numbers and solved a geo-puzzle, then using the vignerre
cipher solved another. I had a little aggro with the third geo-puzzle. Once I’d
de-ciphered (using pigpen) I was left with what I could only describe as
utter gibberish. But I got there eventually.
“er indoors TM” set off
babysitting. I settled down watching more “Poldark” in which George told
Elizabeth his intentions. And they were rather beastly.
And then my blood pressure monitor arrived. In a novel
break with tradition I read the instructions and sat quietly for a few minutes
before having a go. I came in with the same diastolic as the doctor’s machine
said last week, but the systolic came in ten units lower.
“er indoors TM” returned from
babysitting and boiled up lamb chops and chips. That’ll put those ten points
back on the blood pressure…
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