I slept well until two o’clock. I woke to see the clock
reading “2:34” and then I didn’t really sleep much more. Eventually
Treacle jumped off the bed and started squeaking frantically. I got up; she
sprinted to the back door and flew down the garden.
Part of me thinks we should have a litter tray by the back
door in case of emergencies; part of me thinks that if we had a litter tray it
would get used every night.
I made toast and had my usual rummage round Facebook as I
do. More and more I’m getting postings about dying animals. I wish I wasn’t.
I’ve already had two random melt-downs about my Fudge this week and it is over
four years since he went.
I took a deep breath, and made a point of not joining in
with a squabble I saw on one of the pension-related Facebook groups I follow.
Someone had set up some scheme in which recipients of NHS pensions got some
bargain or other. Someone else had joined the group purely to kick off about
how that discriminated against people who didn’t get the NHS pension. It was
suggested that the chap set up his own freebie-dishing-out scheme, and that was
akin to a red rag to a bull. As is always the way people would rather complain
than do anything. I know I would.
The dogs all got up, eventually followed by “er
indoors TM” and “Daddies’ Little Angel TM”.
Once the dogs had had their brekkie I took them out. As we drove the pundits on
the radio were talking about how President Trump and Elon Musk have been having
a very bitter and very public argument. Perhaps
Mr. Musk is right; perhaps Mr. Trump might not have won the election if not for
him. But he did win the election, and consequently Mr. Musk (like all of us)
must bear in mind the thirty-third rule of
acquisition – it never hurts to suck up to the boss.
We got to the woods. With limited time this morning we went
to Orlestone. There was only one other car in the car park and we walked for
two miles without seeing anyone else. The dogs were as good as gold for once.
In the past they have been willful at Orlestone; disappearing into thickets and
being reluctant to come back when called. But today they didn’t disappear, they
stayed (relatively) close, they didn’t roll in any muck, they totally
ignored the two-feet-deep puddle that we walked past on the way back to the
car.
As we walked I had my birdsong app running; in the last
couple of weeks that has become a fascination of mine. In the back garden it
always detects sparrows; in the woods it has never once detected a sparrow even
though I see small birds which I have always thought were sparrows. I need to
look closer to see what they are. And this morning the app identified a goose
and three different tits too.
Pogo had stayed overnight – he came on our walk today. I
had no problems with four dogs this morning. Back in the day I used to have
problems with three dogs. Looking back it was little Fudge who was the problem;
he would straggle behind so much. The four dogs along today all stayed (relatively)
together and with me.
As we drove home Romesh Ranganathan was on the radio. He
was this morning’s castaway on “Desert Island Discs”. He was
very interesting, but with a frankly dreadful choice in music. Having said that
I often listen to “Desert Island Discs”, and I’ve never heard anything
by E.L.O., Sparks or Kate Bush on there.
We came home – no one needed a bath (which was a result).
I ran round the garden collecting the dog turds I didn’t collect earlier and
once I’d washed my hands I made us both a cuppa. We listened to the end of “Desert
Island Discs”, and I wrote up some CPD until “Daddies’
Little Angel TM” returned from her appointment.
I drove her and Pogo home, then went on to the late shift.
And as is so often the way when on the late shift, the day was effectively done
by late morning.
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