I had a rather bad night’s sleep. Everyone else was
restless. By the time everyone settled I realized I might as well get up. I
watched the second half of an episode of “Orange is the New Black” then
had a little look at the Internet. Ozzy Ozbourne died yesterday and I lost
count of the amount of people who were posting tributes. There wasn’t much else
happening on-line at six o’clock so I got ready for work.
I set off to work through the rain. The rain which had
been forecast for the weekend (which never showed up) turned up a couple
of days late yesterday and had an encore last night.
As I drove through the -hursts and the -dens the
pundits on the radio were talking about how the government is working with
Deliveroo and Just Eat and all the other delivery companies. Recently I've seen
all sorts of things on-line about how illegal immigrants are working for the
delivery companies. I thought it was just the standard hatred for anyone who
looks remotely different to the archetypal Brit, but apparently I was wrong. It
turns out that illegal immigrants are actively seeking jobs with the delivery
companies as it has been claimed that it is rather easy to get a job there. The
implication was that they would take on anyone and not ask any questions.
Those doing the hiring at the delivery companies have
been told to sort
out their hiring procedures or face up to five years in prison.
And there was a *very* misleading
talk about the NHS's drive
to get blood of the more obscure groups. There was an interview with
a medical student whose understanding of blood transfusions left a lot to be
desired. When the NHS wants rare blood groups, it isn't talking about B
Negative or AB. There are millions of people with those groups in the UK (do
the sums!). The difficulty in matching blood isn't really to do with ABO
groups (matching them is straightforward). You would have thought
that any talk about precision matching of blood might have mentioned the words
Duffy, Kidd, Kell, Dombrock, Lutheran, or the letters c, C, D, e, E, M, N. S or
U, wouldn't you? No? Well, I would have thought that.
I suppose when you are trying to compress a rather (incredibly)
complicated matter into a twenty-second sound bite for someone who would prefer
to be shouting at the football match on their telly, things are going to get
simplified beyond recognition.
And (despite what you might read), blood will
not be frozen.
Yesterday as I drove to Pembury I went through five
sets of traffic light. I found six today.
I stopped off at Tesco for a sandwich. Unlike the
co-op, Tesco have followed Sainsbury's lead in providing coronation chicken
sandwiches all year long. I got a portion of their carrots and houmous dip too.
They didn't have Volvic flavoured water so I roughed it with Highland
Spring. Their meal deal came in ten pence more than the co-op's but
fifteen pence less than what Sainsbury's want.
In the past whenever I would get lunch from Pembury's
Tesco I would get a freshly baked croissant too, but that's two hundred and
fifty calories that I don't really need. You would have thought that someone
would have invented stuff that you can scoff that tastes good but doesn't have
calories, wouldn't you?
I got to work, had a cuppa, and cracked on. The
coronation chicken sandwich lunch wasn't bad. I do find drinking far too much
water at lunch time stops me being hungry... even if I do spend an inordinate
amount of time going to and from the loo for much of the afternoon.
As I returned from the loo for the umpteenth time “er
indoors TM” sent a message. The
pond would seem to have developed a leak. That's handy... I have a naive hope
that having cleaned out the pumps at the weekend the pressure of water
returning to the top bog filter is a tad much, and the hose just needs sinking.
I shall find out tomorrow when I get jiggy with it.
As I drove home “er indoors TM” sent
a message. I’d done the dogs a disservice. The wet hall carpet wasn’t because
of dog tiddle but because of a leaking radiator… I’ll contact Daisy to see if
she can sort it.
And “er indoors TM” sent
another message. There was a little mouse in the humane mouse trap.
Once home I took the humane mouse trap to the end of the
garden to release the mouse safely, but before I could the stupid thing jumped
and Treacle pounced… and ate it.
Her arse is rank enough without mouse flavoured farts…
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