For once I had a reasonable night’s sleep. I did have
Bailey dabbing the back of my head several times, but nothing that kept me wide
awake for hours. I saw that as a result.
I made toast and had a look at the Internet. The weekend’s
big reveal had not gone down overly well on many of the Doctor Who related
Facebook pages; on balance there are probably more people posting on the Doctor
Who related Facebook pages who hate the show than who like the show. It’s a
shame; it was the fan reaction which pretty much killed Star Trek for years
when “Enterprise” was cancelled.
I Munzed. Got Wordle (pitch) on the fourth attempt,
then heard a crashing sound. Pogo was coming downstairs “quietly”. Him
and his mummy had had a little sleepover last night.
All the other dogs followed, and went into the garden like
dogs do.
Yesterday I’d loaded up a carful of tip stuff. I drove it
round to the tip. As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about
driverless cars. Apparently they will be on the streets in two
years’ time. It was claimed that the things are on the streets already. The law
says that they can be used *if* someone is actually sitting in the
driver’s seat poised to take control at a moment’s notice. The woman presenting
the article was broadcasting from one such car. Will they be in place in two
years’ time? I suspect they will be like electric cars; on the streets, but in
a vast minority.
I got to the tip and unloaded. The tip was rather (very)
busy, and things weren’t helped by one of the tip operatives insisting that he
personally inspected every scrap of tat. He made a point of snatching a broken
fishing pole from me and spending far too long scrutinizing it before
confirming what I’d told him (that it wasn’t metal) and telling me I
could throw it in the general tat bin. I replied that he could throw it in the
general tat bin; I had loads of other stuff to shift, and left him holding it.
I came home, mowed the lawn, cleaned out the pond filters,
topped up the ponds, watered the plants, and watched an episode of “Black
Mirror”, and wrote up some CPD until “Daddies’
Little Angel TM” had finished her appointment. I then ran
her and Pogo home.
With a bootful of dogs we came home via Kings Wood for a
somewhat later walk than usual. As we walked into the woods so a gaggle of
young mothers were having a little picnic with their toddlers. One of the
mothers shrieked “it’s a sausage dog” and without a word of “can we ?”
or “is it all right ?” called to Morgan.
He trotted over and I had flashbacks. In years gone by
people who were having a little picnic in the co-op field once called to Pogo
who charged over and devoured their entire spread in less than five seconds. I
didn’t want that so I called Morgan back and warned the picnicers that he would
scoff all of their sandwiches. The one who’d called him looked rather taken
aback, so I assured her that he wouldn’t pinch one or two sandwiches; he would
have the lot given a moment’s opportunity. Fortunately he came when called and
followed me into the woods.
We carried on with our walk. As we went so Treacle found a
stick. You know - one of those with a hoof on one end and a bone coming out of
the other. That’s at least the third deer leg she’s found this year. I would
say that you have to wonder where they are coming from, but the answer is
obvious. Deer. Something is clearly getting through the deer in the woods at
quite a rate. I’m seeing this as more supporting evidence for my theory about
there being one or more large cats in the area. After all, I’m convinced I saw
a black panther in Hawkhurst twenty years ago.
As we came back toward the car the picnicers were still
scoffing. They smiled in a semi-embarrassed sort of way as we walked past.
We came home and I cracked on with the ironing, fed the
fish, and “er indoors TM” returned from a day at
the office. She boiled up pizza then went bowling. I settled in front of the telly
for more Netflix.
Today’s been busy…
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