I had a fairly decent night’s sleep, eventually
getting up at seven o’clock. I made toast (as I do) and peered into the
internet (as I do). It was still there.
This morning’s squabble was that old chestnut about
how do you fill up your garden ponds? There are many who would rather use
sulphuric acid than tap water as tap water is supposedly full of chemicals.
These people advocate either saving rain water (that comes off of your roof
and down the gutters collecting muck as it goes), or using tap water but
also adding no end of chemicals to counteract those that they claim are in the
tap water. It’s an argument that’s been running for years. Personally I use the
water from the tap – it can’t be that bad as I’ve been drinking it for years.
Pond keepers wind me up. So many of them fart around
gathering rain water, measuring the levels of no end of chemicals (that they
don’t understand) and adding this treatment and that treatment to get the
levels of the various chemicals just right… and then once a month they chuck
out a quarter of the water and start all over again.
And there was a
video on Facebook from one of the head honchos at
Kent County Council saying how vital and necessary it was to bring back “Operation Brock”. The video was odd.
The chap speaking banged on about how we need “Operation Brock” at peak
times, and also said that the numbers of lorries using the channel crossing
remain constant all year long. Why not queue up the cars full of tourists that *are*
seasonal?
It struck me as rather odd that his lot all stood for
election promising to get rid of it, and now they are singing its praises.
I Munzed, Wordled from “brock” to “steak”
in five goes, then took the dogs out. As we drove the pundits on the radio were
interviewing Robert
Jenrick. He winds me up. He appears all over the media
finding all sorts of fault with things about which he did absolutely sod all
when he was actually in government himself. At one point the interviewer had to
remind him that he’d been brought on to the radio to be interviewed and not to
make a speech.
We went to Orlestone today, and walked half of what we
did yesterday, but chased rabbits, and those of us that didn’t roll in fox poo
went into a rather muddy swamp.
We came home for a bath, and to report the old
mattress than had been fly-tipped in the car park. That mattress annoyed me for
two reasons. Firstly someone had clearly made as much effort to drive the thing
to the woods as it would have taken to drive to the tip. And secondly because
no one else had reported it. I mentioned the thing to another dog walker who
told me it had been there several days.
We came home where dogs got bathed. Having squealed
with the fly-tipped mattress I wrote up some
CPD, and carried on with a little project I’ve been doing
for a few days. I’m compiling a little list of places where we’ve had (relatively)
successful dog walks.
I then had a look on-line for cheap beer. Amazon have
stopped knocking it out at a quid a bottle, which is a pain in the glass. I had
a quick go at Meowduku, and set off to work.
I drove up what once was (and will be again)
the motorway listening to The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Marvin the
Paranoid Android outwitted a Frogstar Class D Scout Robot, and Zaphod
Beeblebrox was fed into the Total Perspective Vortex. For all that the books
and the TV shows and the film were good, HHG was always a radio show.
As I drove I saw that (as promised) "Operation
Brock" was still on. As usual, nothing was being held on the motorway
(it rarely is), and there were ten cars in the Brock bit that clearly
hadn't read the instructions before driving into the Brock bit.
I set the cruise control at fifty miles per hour (as
that is now the speed limit there), and lost count of the amount of foreign
lorries that tail-ended me. Loads of them drove about six feet from my rear end
before eventually overtaking at what I can only describe as "far too
fast". A policeman with whom I used to go to the Open University once
told me that the police never attempted to do anything about the crap driving
of foreign lorry drivers as they always pretended not to be able to speak
English and it was "all too much arse ache". That was thirty
years ago - it would seem nothing has changed in the meantime.
I went in to Sainsburys to get lunch. As well as a
sandwich I got a caramel and apple dipper. It looked nice. Work was work, but
the caramel and apple dipper was something of a disappointment. It tasted
rather cheap. I won't be getting that again.
I did my bit, and was rather glad to see the night
shift arrive.
It was still light as I left work. That won't last for
much longer. I drove home listening to more of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the
Galaxy, and in a novel break with tradition got to park right outside the
house.
That will make for an easier trip to the woods in the
morning. I can never remember where I park the car.
I’ve moaned a lot today, haven’t I?
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