I had a rather good night. I find that getting up when I
need the loo helps. When I got up at four o clock this morning I put a load of
washing in. Admittedly I did have to battle for bed space when I went back to
my pit but I then got three more hours asleep which I wouldn’t have had if I’d
just been tossing and turning resisting the call of the loo.
I got up at seven o’clock and hung the washing out.
I found myself thinking as I peered into Facebook this
morning. There was one of these little cartoons on Facebook in which a manager
was asking a junior employee why they weren’t applying for promotion. Their
reply was “I don’t want to become you”. I immediately thought of several
people I’ve known over the years who are now in rather senior positions and are
just shadows of their former selves. Their once bright and bubbly personalities
are long gone; their every word now a well-rehearsed management catch-phrase. Singing
the praises of that with which they clearly don’t agree; perhaps that’s why I
never got on as a manager?
I munzed; our clan has now got all our monthly targets. And
I got wordle (sport) on the third attempt.
I took the dogs out. As we drove the pundits on the radio
were interviewing some windbag about how well Reform UK are doing in the
opinion polls. I’m not sure who the windbag was, but he said that Nigel Farage
has made a political career out of telling the public what they want to hear,
secure in the knowledge that he will never have to deliver/ But now after their
victory in the local elections they are going to have to deliver. The point was
made that if they had this success on the run-up to a general election, Nigel
Farage would be the next Prime Minister. But with four years to go, Reform UK
has got a hill to climb. Will they climb it? I’m reminded of the Liberal
Democrats who went into a coalition with the Conservatives some years ago and
totally failed to live up to what they’d promised.
But time will tell. It always does.
We got to the woods where my birdsong app detected another
goldcrest, but today it didn’t think it was rare. Maybe after yesterday’s diary
entry it had read Wikipedia? We walked four and a half miles; the dogs were
completely oblivious to the herd of deer that ran past at the half-way point.
We got back to the car just as the drizzle started (two
hours earlier than had been forecast). We came home where I had a look at
my boots. At the weekend the sole of the heel of one of my boots had come
adrift. Last night I glued it back in place, and it seemed to survive today’s
walk. Let’s hope that’s fixed; the expense of a new pair of boots is an expense
I can do without.
Seeing the drizzle was getting heavier I got all the damp
washing off of the line, and hung it round the house. What are radiators for if
not for drying wet washing?
I popped to the garden centre. One of the plants in the
little pond has become rather top-heavy. It needs re-potting. I got a bigger
pond pot, but when I got home the rain had got even heavier. Re-potting will
keep until the rain stops.
I wrote up CPD, then played the bots at chess with varying
degrees of success. And with the rain showing no sign of abating I considered
re-vamping one of my old Wherigo series and re-launching it… if I could only
find somewhere to put it. Dering Wood is owned by Woodland Trust who want me to
apply for formal permission for each and every geocache I hide there. That’s
too much like arse-ache. Perry Wood would have been a good place *if* it
wasn’t already full of caches. Ripper’s Wood is somewhere I’ve hidden caches
before, but there’s no easy nearby parking and it involves going through a
field of sheep, which isn’t easy with three dogs. Much the same could be said
of the Godinton estate.
I eventually struck on somewhere that I might use, and
spent an hour or so re-writing the old Wherigo cartridge. It’s proved popular
in the past; you never know – people might like to play it a fourth time. And
if they don’t, they don’t have to. No one is forcing them.
Once we finished our morning walk, the rest of the day has
been rather dull. A shame about the rain…
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