For all that I slept well, I woke exhausted following
a night of nightmares. I woke in a cold sweat in the small hours following a
rather vivid dream in which my late father had taken the house apart in order
to repair a problem that simply wasn’t there. And then I found myself charged
with going back in time to organise a geocaching mega-event fifteen years ago.
I made toast and peered into the Internet as I do and
saw something which made me think. When I was a lad I was wrapped up in the
Boys Brigade. Looking back that was a mistake. The Boys Brigade is a *very*
religious organisation and it seriously messed with my head. One of the
greatest regrets of my life is that I introduced a good friend to the Boys
Brigade and he fell for the religion hook, line and sinker. He’s now a Baptist
minister in the West country and regularly posts videos of his morning prayers
on Facebook. He’s now off on “sabbatical” From what I can work out this
entails three months of doing precious little but going off on holiday and
sitting on your. bum saying prayers at someone else’s expense. And that someone
else’s expense is tax-free – the Baptist Union is
quite clear on the matter.
This got me thinking... and I did a little looking-up. A Baptist minister
earns thirty thousand quid a year, gets a free house and a pension too. All for
blathering a few platitudes.
Who’s the daft one, him or me…
I Munzed, and took the dogs out.
As we drove so the pundits on the radio were talking
about how the new Prime Minister is sorting out the nation’s finances… or
trying to. His attempts to sort the issues with the water companies by
nationalising them seem to have fallen at he first hurdle. Those owed money by
the water companies want their bit and are mounting a legal challenge to be sure they get it. And they probably
will. I can remember a favourite author of mine who
once wrote “"If a man stopped me in the street and
demanded of me my watch I should fight him for it. If, on the other hand, he
should assert his intention of trying to obtain it by means of an action in any
court of law, I should take it out of my pocket and hand it to him, and think I
had got off cheaply".
And there was talk of VAT on leccie bills being abolished. The expert opinion
was that it might save the average household fifty quid a year which would be
more than wiped out by the rise in leccie prices.
The new Prime Minister has got his work cut out…
We got to the woods. Being pressed for time we went to
Orlestone today where the car park had only one other car in it. We walked
anticlockwise today as the driver of that other car was fifty yards in front of
us going clockwise and his dogs were barking at us. I don’t know where they
went though; we didn’t meet them half-way round like you’d think we might.
We chased a few squirrels, but didn’t roll in
anything. And the swamps had dried out too. After two miles we were back at the
car after a rather uneventful walk. I like those.
We came home. I made us both a cuppa. I wrote
up some CPD, Wordled my way from “dream” (which gave me
nothing at all) to “shill” on the fourth attempt. I got “shill”
as nothing else would fit. Apparently “shill”
is the sort of person who gives positive reviews to companies and services with
which they have a vested interest. As I’ve often said, a day when you learn
nothing is a day wasted… I then wasted half an hour playing Meowdoku and then
set off to the late shift.
As I headed off to work I saw a traffic warden on a
pedal bike. Is that a new thing? Presumably so they can make a quick getaway
having done the dirty. A friend of a friend once told me that they once worked
as a traffic warden for a short time and were under orders to be sure that they
issued enough parking tickets to cover their wages.
I drove up the ex-motorway (now dual carriageway)
watching very few lorries coming down the "Operation Brock"
bit. Again nothing was being held up in it. As I drove I had a strange phone
call. Someone with a Scottish accent claiming to be called Tony called me
saying that they were returning my call. I'd not called him and I told
him so, at which point he got rather aggressive and confrontational. I hung up.
Being able to use the hands-free phone thingy in my car is something of a
novelty, but I could do without nutters bothering me.
I went in to the Sainsbury's petrol station in
Aylesford. As well as petrol I got lunch. I made a point of telling the
woman on the till that what I had was the meal deal as she never charges the
reduced meal deal rate (always charging full whack). She took umbrage
and refused to honour the nectar card deal voucher that she'd given me the last
time I was there.
I went in to work and did my bit. Things weren't as
bad as they might have been, but I was glad to see the night shift arrive. I
drove home listening to more Adrian Mole. Pandora had returned from
Tunisia which was (as we have all been told) "full of hazards".
The trouble with the late shift is that it finishes
too late. By the time I got home it was gone ten o’clock…
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