Well, the world didn’t end last night. It was supposed to. Mind you I’ve lived
through the end of the world a few times now. I can clearly remember the first
one. It was on the stroke of midnight on January 1st 1980.
Absolutely everyone knew the world was going to ends, and I can remember
walking round Ore Village (the better part of Hastings) with my mate
Douggie. The world hadn’t ended and both of us were at a complete loss as to
what we should be doing.
There was another end of the world at the turn of the
millennium. That too was a disappointment.
There’s been several over the years since; none of which
have lived up to expectations.
I made toast and watched an episode of “Years and Years” which despite being
six years old was amazingly prophetic.
I then had a quick look at the Internet. This
morning’s petty squabble on Facebook was on the Rupert Bear Appreciation
Society. Some people really will quarrel over anything.
I sent out birthday wishes. Only one Facebook friend
was having a birthday today. Once a very close friend, I’ve not seen Chip to
speak to for years. Such a shame.
I Munzed and then downloaded bank statements. I’ve had
an email from the bank saying that they are stopping sending me paper
statements whether I like it or not. I gave up asking them not to send paper
statements years ago. It’s taken them long enough to listen to me. And taking
care not to wake anyone I got ready for work rather earlier than I might have
done.
I had a naive hope that a new geocache might have gone
live in the general vicinity of work. Two had yesterday. They seem to go live
near work when I’m not working, and go live near home when I am.
As I walked to my car I tried not to chuckle about the
chap on the other side of the road. He was talking on his phone to someone or
other, but he didn't really need the phone. His every utterance was shouted.
Why do so many people feel the need to bellow into their phones?
I drove round to Sainsburys where I got petrol. The
often miserable one behind the counter was making a point of filling shelves (that
didn't need filling) this morning so the queue was growing. And growing.
And then I drove up the motorway listening to the
pundits on the radio. President Trump was being mentioned by all and
sundry. Having made up a story that paracetamol
causes autism he then went on to call Russia a paper tiger and claim that Ukraine
will win the ongoing war.
He can't really be as stupid as he seems, can he?
I got to work and treated myself to a cheese scone,
then cracked on with my day. I spent another day with the trainees; today
waxing lyrical about malaria, babesiosis, trypanosomes and other frankly
horrible micro-organisms that get into your blood and try to make a home there.
They are truly yukky, and really put you off your dinner. Unless you do what I
do for a living. Blood testers are made of stern stuff.
I came home. I do that. “er indoors TM” boiled
up a rather good bit of dinner which we washed down with a decent bottle of
plonk, then I shared some biscuits with the dogs. I had some stilton with mine.
We had a ploughman’s lunch on August Bank Holiday, and I discovered the
leftover cheese in the fridge. It was still good… mind you with stilton can you
tell if it’s gone off?
No comments:
Post a Comment