I slept quite well last night, but was aching far more
this morning after yesterday’s gardening than I was yesterday after a day’s
expedition the day before.
I did my usual thing of making toast and scoffing it
whilst peering into the internet. There’s a “thing” going on at the
moment where people are spraying
red crosses onto any sort of white road marking in an attempt to
make flags of St George. There were several of those on Facebook this morning.
Those who can’t spell or put together a coherent sentence and use patriotism as
an excuse for racism were amazingly proud of them. Personally I felt that the
things would have looked a whole lot better if whoever did the spray-painting
had taken a few seconds to put down masking tape to make the things look as though
they hadn’t been done by a drunkard in a rush.
I Munzed, Wordled (annex – what a silly word!)
and took the dogs up to the woods. As we drove there was someone from Reform UK
on the radio being interviewed about how Reform UK would deport all the illegal
immigrants. Sadly the chap refused to answer any of the questions put to him.
It’s quite obvious how you might deport illegal immigrants. You get a whole
load of them from the same country, stick them all in the hold of an RAF
transport plane, fly them to an airport of their country of origin, and unload
them all on the runway. You really wouldn’t have to do that many times before
the boats would stop… but would any politician be brave enough to do that?
We got to the woods. Early last week there was a tent
set up there. Late last week there was a camper van in the car park obviously
having a little holiday. This morning a caravan was packing up; obviously
having been there overnight.
We had a good walk… once we got away from the gobby
woman. Some woman had tied more bells to her dog’s collar than you get in the
average church belfry, and if the dog wasn’t making enough noise as it ran off
in one direction, the woman was shrieking at the top of her voice as she tried
to get her dog to follow her in the other. As she shrieked at me, those who’d
set up the tent last week had left no end of food scraps which attracts her
dog.
She eventually fell far enough behind that we couldn’t
hear her. As we walked we saw a buzzard and a woodpecker. I saw squirrels; the
dogs didn’t. As we walked we had a look at one of my geocaches
which had been reported to be in an area swarming with ants. I didn’t see any,
but I can’t imagine anyone would make up a story like that and go to the
trouble to bother someone else about it. The little pot is now in a sensible
place; I decided to leave it there.
As we walked I used my “Map
My Walk” app. It’s odd. At every mile (or kilometer if
that floats your boat) it tells you how far you’ve walked, how long it has
taken you, and your average speed per mile. However what it actually shouts out
isn’t in agreement with what it displays on its screen. The two were about a
hundred yards and over a minute adrift.
We came home and had a cuppa. I then voomed round the
front garden with the bionic burner… once I got it working. The extension cable
wasn’t working, but the spare did. So once the garden (and nice-next-door’s
garden) were bionically burned I took the extension cable apart to find why
it wasn’t working. I could find nothing wrong, and when I put it all back
together it was working fine. What was that all about?
I then got out the extending lopper and hacked back
the overgrowth hanging over the fence from not-so-nice-next door, then
went round with the garden hoover.
I came in to find my new rucksack had arrived… what a
load of rubbish. It had no frame or rigidity. A seventy-litre rucksack doesn’t
squash up so small that you can almost shove it in your pocket. I suppose that
is why Amazon was knocking them out at less than a tenth of the price that
Cotswold wanted.
Sending the thing back to Amazon was so easy. I
pressed the “return” button, Amazon emailed me a barcode, I took the
rucksack to Asda, showed the nice lady the barcode… and that was it. Whilst I
was in the area I walked over to Mountain Warehouse where I spent forty quid on
a new rucksack. Admittedly over twice the price that Amazon wanted, but under a
quarter of the price of Cotswold.
I came home for a late lunch of peanut butter and
marmalade on toast, wrote up some
CPD (dull), then announced that I was going to
feed the fish. Treacle was up the garden like a bullet from a gun; she loves
the “Feed The Fish” ceremony as she gets some fish food. Is dried rice *really*
that good?
And then I drove back round to Mountain Warehouse –
the rucksack they sold me was missing some vital straps.
We then drove down to Rye for the evening – a chap
from Vienna was on holiday and had organsied
a geo-meet. I shared cheese and onion peas with the assembled geo-hounds,
and I shared four pints of rather decent ale with myself…
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