I had a relatively good night. However if I’m in my
pit for more than six hours I usually start aching and my hips were
particularly painful this morning. I got up, and did my usual morning routine.
The Internet was much the same as it ever is. The
river had burst its banks near Asda again. And again people were queueing up to
whinge, but no one was prepared to whinge at the councillors and MPs and
agencies that could do something about it. The local Green councillor has said
that there’s been a study done and the issue is that the river needs dredging
downstream. However he says that’s someone else’s department. If only people
would tell the Environment Agency about the floods rather than posting on
Facebook… if only people understood how the world works.
And there was a lot of complaining about cyclists
vooming about in the dark, all clad in black with no lights on their bikes.
I’ve seen several of these lately along the A28. Do they really want to get
flattened; you don’t see them until they are nearly under the front wheels of
your car.
I Munzed, and with the dogs having had their brekkie I
took them to the woods.
As we drove the pundits on the radio were having a “discussion”
about genetically modified foods in which a university professor explained
exactly what genetically modified stuff is all about, and a clueless half-wit
spouted complete rubbish. It bothers me that the BBC treat considered expert
opinion and deranged ranting as being of equal value.
We got to the woods and Morgan immediately downloaded.
I sighed, bagged it and left it by my car’s front wheel; I wasn’t going to
carry that round the woods. It wasn’t long before we met another dog, The dog
came and said hello; Bailey screamed in terror and bolted, and Treacle and
Morgan both leapt forward to stick up for her by shouting at the other dog...
It was all soon sorted; a total over-reaction by
Bailey, but the poor woman with the other dog was distraught with worry about
poor Bailey (who can be a real drama queen at times). I eventually
persuaded the poor woman that no harm had been done and all was fine, and we
continued our walk. We took a slightly different walk to our usual one to avoid
the worst of the mud. After Bailey’s scare the rest of the walk was rather
dull. But we had a minor result; when we got back to the car someone had tidied
up the bad of dog dung I’d left.
We came home. I washed the mud (and fox poo)
off of the dogs. I set the washing machine going, made us both a cuppa, and we
had it with a lemon curd bun. I then did geo-paperwork.
First of all I got on to English Heritage (again).
Back in December I contacted them about getting permission to set up an
EarthCache at Camber Castle. They said to give them ten days… thirty-five have
passed.
And then I looked at the geocaching Adventure Lab I’d
set up at Lenham church. It’s a simple thing; you call it up in the geocaching
Adventure Lab app and it takes you to five locations round the church and asks
you a question. One of the locations is the War Memorial. You go there where
you can see the names of lots of people on the memorial and their occupations.
The question is “What is the occupation of M E Gale?” So you look at the
War Memorial, find where it says “M E Gale – nurse”, and type “nurse”
into the app. One hundred and twenty people have managed to do this so far, but
this morning as we’d walked round the woods I’d had a message that someone had
logged that the question wasn’t clear. How much clearer can I make it?
I sent out no end of invites to this month’s geo-meet.
By then the washing machine was done so I hung the
washing on the clothes horse, put more washing in, wrote up some
CPD, marked more trainee portfolio work, and then feeling
as though I hadn’t stopped I turned on the telly and did my usual thing of
spending the afternoon getting cross at the contestants in “Four In A Bed”.
Here’s a tip for anyone going on that show – if
someone says something insulting or upsetting about your establishment, you
will be the second one to find out. The first will be absolutely everyone else because
they actually show the problem on the telly. Just saying “I don’t believe
you” makes you look to be a twit when they’ve already shown the issue to
the rest of the world.
During the adverts I hung out washing and put the
undercrackers into scrub.
“er indoors TM” boiled
up pizza and then went off bowling. I settled on the sofa and watched more
episodes of “Harlots” which is a surprisingly good show. It’s now got to
the point that the plot is so good that they don’t need to keep brandishing the
jubblies. And they aren’t. Which is probably for the best…
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