This “clocks going forward” nonsense means I
sleep a little longer than I might usually. Last night was a rather good one –
I stayed asleep until nearly eight o’clock.
I made toast and had a look at the Internet. There was
a squabble about why society shouldn’t give anything at all to anyone who
needed help… Some people can be very right-wing and very anti-commie-pinko
social mindedness… right up to the point where they actually need some help
themselves. I blame Margaret Thatcher who taught so many people that a house
was a financial investment rather than something to live in.
And I found out tha the actor who played Young Mr
Grace in “Are You Being Served” and Mr Blewitt in “Dad’s Army” came from my home town of Hastings. I never
knew that.
I Munzed, and got ready for the off.
I took the dogs up to Kings Wood. As we drove the
pundits on the radio were talking about the Great Strike of 1926. It was rather
interesting… so much of history would seem to have been interesting. Looking
back the history teacher we had at school would seem to have done his level
best to have killed the subject stone dead. His style of teaching was to read
out the text book, and we would write down what he said. He could have made it
interesting, but sadly didn’t seem to want to do so.
We got to the woods and waked our usual route. With my
hiking boots on (rather than wellies) we went faster than usual with Map
My Walk saying I was doing each mile in less than twenty minutes rather than in
about twenty-two (or so) minutes. Not that it was a race.
As we walked we met three other groups and said hello
nicely. We didn’t roll in anything, didn’t wallow in any swamps, and didn’t see
off any rabbits or squirrels. In many ways an ideal (if dull) walk.
As we came home I saw that the petrol station up the
road had put up the price of petrol by two pence per litre whilst we’d been out.
We came home for a cuppa, I put a load of shirts and
undercrackers into the washing machine then I went into the garden. I gathered
a bumper crop of dog turds. How can three small dogs generate so much
dung? I strimmed the lawn’s edges and
mowed the lawn. It’s a shame our lawn looks such a state, but my attempts to
re-seed to with bird seed over the winter have worked to an extent. I might try
that some more next winter; the trouble is that poking each seed in one by one
takes an age. I ran out the hose (now that the hose pipe ban is over!)
and topped up both ponds and watered the plants which are coming back. The
pansies I planted a few weeks ago have come to nothing, but last year’s
polyanthus are blooming. I might well get some more of those. Pansies and
violas are pretty but they don’t seem to last.
And then I packed up and came in. I was worn out, and
it was rather cold outside.
I Wordled from “about” via “overt” and “onset”
(even though I knew the “o” wasn’t at the start!) to get it right with “comet”.
I wrote up some CPD. I tumble-dried the undercrackers, then set about the
ironing.
As I ironed I watched episodes of “Four In A Bed”
in which everyone was matey and friends right up until the last episode when
the fussiest one was shown to be running far and away the poorest B&B.
I do far more on a day off than I ever do at work.
“er indoors TM” boiled
up pizza then went bowling. I sparked up
Netflix and put on a film I’ve been meaning to watch for ages. Sadly “Borderlands”
was a load of tripe, and I turned it off half-way through.
I’m going to work tomorrow – for a bit of a rest.
Oh – and today would have been my parents’ sixty-ninth
wedding anniversary
No comments:
Post a Comment