I slept rather well; the alarm woke me this morning.
That rarely happens. I made toast and had my usual look at the Internet. There
were two bitter and nasty arguments this morning on Facebook. One on an advert
about bird feeders and one about a pub I periodically drive past.
The RSPB has suggested that people don’t use
bird feeders over the summer, and that has gone down like a lead balloon with
those who make a living from selling bird feeders.
And the current leaseholder of The Peacock in Cranbrook has announced that he
will not be renewing his lease, and that there isn’t anyone who looks keen to
take over. There are those who were up in arms about another pub closing, but
seriously? We had a pub lunch the other day. A meal and a couple of drinks cost
over fifty quid. And we were in with the great unwashed. Who wants to spend
good money to be in the pub next to me and my dogs? Every pub needs a hard core
of customers who go regularly (daily) and hand copious amounts of money
over the bar. And that’s the biggest problem that The Peacock in Cranbrook has.
I say “in Cranbrook”; the local Facebook pages say it in Goudhurst… it’s
actually mid-way between the two villages on a rather busy road with no way of
getting there safely unless you drive.
I sent out birthday wishes to a Facebook friend.
Twenty years ago she was one of my trainees. Her boyfriend of the time (now
her husband) set himself up as a plumber… they now live in a rather nice
mansion on the Kent-Sussex border.
If I had my time again…
I Munzed, and Wordled from “slept” to “mover”
in four goes.
Steve was on the radio doing the “Guess the Lyrics”
competition on the radio. “There were incidents and accidents”. I had no
idea - it was You Can Call Me Al by Paul
Simon. Whilst I wracked my brain, “The Number One Song In Heaven” was
playing on the radio; a very good choice…
We got ready for Dog Club.
Dog Club was good today. I tried counting several
times. I don’t think there was over twenty dogs along but attendance was
certainly in the high teens. All the dogs had a great time, and Bailey stood up
for herself by picking on Phoenix. Phoenix is a rather loveable Australian
sheep-dog who didn’t deserve to be picked on.
As we drove home Steve was doing the “Mystery Year”
competition on the radio. In which year was the first Harry Potter film
released? No? – 2001.
I then spent a few minutes getting rubbish into the
car. The sleepers that the rats had chewed. The poggered water feature, the
poggered pressure-washer. The Yard of Ale which seemed such a good idea at the
time but just gathered dust and was impossible to clean. With Ashford’s tip
still closed the obvious place and time to unload rubbish is the tip at
Allington before a late shift. Rather amazingly I’d been able to book a space
for this morning.
I set off to work sulking. As I have said so many
times working in a hospital means I work early in the morning, late at night,
weekends, bank holidays, and all night long. It goes with the territory. But I
do resent working at the weekends when the sun is out. The weather was glorious
as I left home.
Bearing in mind Radio Ashford's new DAB signal, I
thought I'd listen to that on the way to work. Unfortunately the signal kept
cutting out as I drove along Brookfield Road, but nil desperandum - I
had a stroke of genius that it might be my car's radio that was at fault rather
than the signal itself. So to prove a point I turned to Radio Four on the DAB.
After a few seconds of their program I heard Steve's voice cutting across
giving Radio Ashford's travel news.
I think my car's DAB had had it. I shall get a
new one...
Or to be more accurate I shall add it to the list of
new things that I'd like to have. It's currently quite a long way down the list
after various other new things including pants, deodorant, work shoes and a
pressure washer. The FM band on the car radio works well enough though... I
suspect the new DAB car radio will come with the new car... which I hope won't
be for a little while.
I stopped off at the tip at Allington where once I'd
dumped the rubbish I had a look round their tat shop. All of the half-way
decent tat that goes to any of Kent's tips gets salvaged and put on sale in a
little shop at the Allington tip. Paintings, glasses, furniture, lawnmowers,
guitars, records... it was just like going back in time fifteen years to the
tat shop that my mother-in-law used to run, or back in time fifty years to a
Boys Brigade jumble sale.
Sadly they didn't have any car DAB radios.
From there I went on to work and the late shift where
I spent a while peering out the window in the rather selfish hope that it would
rain. And I was rather pleased when it hossed down at three o'clock. I know
that's mean of me, but there it is. Having had to turn down the offer of
an afternoon on the beer I really didn't want to be looking out of the window
at an afternoon which would have been ideal for being on the beer.
I came home where “er indoors TM” had
boiled up a rather good plate of fajitas which we scoffed whilst watching the end
of the Eurovision Song Contest. (“er indoors TM” had
seen it from the start). I can’t pretend to be a fan of
Eurovision, but the entries from Lithuania and Norway were frankly dreadful.
And I couldn’t help but wonder what were the Austrians thinking of?
In the end my vote was split between the Cypriot jubblies
and the Romanian dominatrix lesbians.
Call me an old traditionalist if you will…
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