tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6651971357599021092024-03-19T08:48:25.421+00:00The Secret Diary of Manky BadgerJust when sin is quite the thing, here’s one who holds quite tight to what has worked before...
Beer (brewing and drinking), holidays, diets, dogs, fishing, ironing, hiking, geocaching, Munzees, Lego, wherigoing, painting (oils, emulsion and gloss), ranting, recording history as I see it. Days with family, days with friends. Always an opinion (always wrong); rarely a dull moment. Welcome to my world. Remember history is written by those who make the effort to write it.Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.comBlogger5412125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-21063101945310071972024-03-18T20:25:00.004+00:002024-03-18T20:26:09.568+00:0018 March 2024 (Monday) - Volunteering<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8YDBOv9mIZeq_yzDVQaKqxnh_DKFYGtFzaUalEnewnOwxkiJp4NnnJtsvGokRzXAWKeFIfJ5i29Ua68SGQozJ4Y49EXnlOKt4oBbMH4UFMOIfY79ZvOoM_DVHbW73ZIdjNHfmUmwy-OQ7gqroGAYfuJ2AJevA-TGOMFU31iKMZOWlRW5erF-eGicDN8/s425/barbarians.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="425" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8YDBOv9mIZeq_yzDVQaKqxnh_DKFYGtFzaUalEnewnOwxkiJp4NnnJtsvGokRzXAWKeFIfJ5i29Ua68SGQozJ4Y49EXnlOKt4oBbMH4UFMOIfY79ZvOoM_DVHbW73ZIdjNHfmUmwy-OQ7gqroGAYfuJ2AJevA-TGOMFU31iKMZOWlRW5erF-eGicDN8/s320/barbarians.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Once I’d scoffed toast and watched a bit of telly I had a
quick look at the Internet. Several people were crowing that cash is king
following Sainsbury’s episode over the weekend when their IT systems went tits-up.
For all that a five pound note can’t go down, I’m reminded of a mate who had
several hundred quid in cash stolen; you can cancel a credit card. You can’t
cancel a nicked fiver.</span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">The chief executive of Sainsburys had emailed me this
morning to say sorry. That was nice of him; he’d written a great big letter
which didn’t actually say anything.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">I had a quick Munz session, then set off to work. Again
much of the way out of Ashford was bunged up because of road works in which no
one was actually working. The traffic going up the motorway was especially slow
as well for no apparent reason.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I drove the pundits on the radio were spouting their
usual drivel. Apparently <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadiq_Khan">Sadiq
Khan</a>, the mayor of London, is starting his election campaign for a third
term of office. Despite being in office for nearly ten years there is still
loads wrong with London. Mr. Khan was being interviewed live on air this
morning, and he was laying all of the failings of his administration firmly on
the Conservative government. Well he would, wouldn't he? But one thing made me
think. He was blaming knife crime and youth gang culture on the cuts made to
social services and youth workers which have consequently made youth clubs
close.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">What's that all about?</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was a lad there was a youth club over the road from
our house. For a while I went to PAC (<i>Physical Activities Club</i>) which
operated up the road. I was in the Salvation Army's youth club for a while, and
the Barbarians swimming club and St Mark’s youth club. I was a cub scout, and
was in the Boys Brigade for years. None of these had any government funding.
All were run by volunteers. Like I was a volunteer during my thirteen years as
a scout leader.</div> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">Doesn't anyone run youth activities voluntarily any more?</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got to work. In between work I had a meeting with the
boss to discuss the hours I work; or more specifically how lates on Mondays and
day shifts on Thursdays are difficult. Fifteen years ago my work was pretty
much my life. These days work seems to just get in the way.</div></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-61579005182009463302024-03-17T20:25:00.006+00:002024-03-17T20:25:37.681+00:0017 March 2024 (Sunday) - Family Dinner<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVZ-_ddJzeGxGy1TvWyomiCgsbL4gWMlWtt3hYpu_ojmI7wkSFm-nQvpO96IEIPfouL1hNH5gTHXcR56gGQ8ktKQu13HCDhNNns9H3rnLu2tJ1V6-WifzU39KArqbDqQuwagt3maeu-zpNnRP_RbsuGugeewkKSIdG6B2AyH4pnh8u5U4jFeMv-kW8Cs/s411/london%20pride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="411" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVZ-_ddJzeGxGy1TvWyomiCgsbL4gWMlWtt3hYpu_ojmI7wkSFm-nQvpO96IEIPfouL1hNH5gTHXcR56gGQ8ktKQu13HCDhNNns9H3rnLu2tJ1V6-WifzU39KArqbDqQuwagt3maeu-zpNnRP_RbsuGugeewkKSIdG6B2AyH4pnh8u5U4jFeMv-kW8Cs/s320/london%20pride.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
slept reasonably well but woke in the small hours needing the loo. I came back
to bed to find no space whatsoever. Eventually I secured a few inches along the
edge and dozed fitfully in between nightmares about Martin opening a café for
space aliens over the road, and “</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">My Boy <sup>TM</sup></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">” choosing to
identify as a six year old pirate, dressing himself in an old curtain and
brandishing a rusty bread knife at the normal people.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I
gave up trying to sleep and thought I might get some more paint onto the fence.
I would have done had it not been raining hard. The weather forecasters are
rubbish, but today they got it right.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I
made toast and peered into the Internet. Not a lot was going on really, which
was probably a good thing. I had an email from the power company saying that
the price of power was going down, but there was no mention of my monthly
payments going down though.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I
had a quick Munz from the comfort of the sofa, <a href="https://adulldayatwork.blogspot.com/">wrote up some CPD</a>, then took the dogs
for a walk. The idea was a quick circuit of the park. We got a quarter of the
way to the park and were soaked. The rain was that annoyingly deceptive fine
rain which doesn’t look to be much but gets you wringing wet in seconds.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Once home we towelled the dogs off, and I made the most of
the rain water by sweeping the yard and front garden. </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">After a little while spent fussing the dogs <i>“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i>
sent me shopping. Aldi was surprisingly busy this morning. Apart from substituting
carrots for parsnips I got all I was sent to get.</div> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>My
Boy <sup>TM</sup></i>” and Cheryl came round, We had a rather good dinner
scoffing far too much and putting the world to rights. The fourth can of London
Pride and the fifth helping of pudding was perhaps a tad too much though…</div></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-25692616970266787562024-03-16T22:04:00.001+00:002024-03-16T22:04:22.700+00:0016 March 2024 (Saturday) - Dog Club, Gardening<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQzWzPk9lsfdi2pKmDeE7mMA4Yts-Ex5ojy9dr585lHrfhD7JqnJ-8d-yyxlyaJ8hG-Er0rQ5ShF-t0H1OhbZfLO7-FKGa8fqvUKEGvRE7SqphyphenhyphenK5dXflAaKSZFWlE8TzkA5Us0cNIT0EcdlToOZKXpe8sYh9E2zSWH8oLfAOsQtdMXl50nVRk8umZ5E/s937/dog%20club%20garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="937" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQzWzPk9lsfdi2pKmDeE7mMA4Yts-Ex5ojy9dr585lHrfhD7JqnJ-8d-yyxlyaJ8hG-Er0rQ5ShF-t0H1OhbZfLO7-FKGa8fqvUKEGvRE7SqphyphenhyphenK5dXflAaKSZFWlE8TzkA5Us0cNIT0EcdlToOZKXpe8sYh9E2zSWH8oLfAOsQtdMXl50nVRk8umZ5E/w400-h166/dog%20club%20garden.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This morning amongst the various rantings and
ravings on Facebook I saw something that made me smile. And then think. The
calls for Britain to pay </span><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/aug/22/uk-cannot-ignore-calls-for-slavery-reparations-says-leading-un-judge-patrick-robinson"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">reparations for the
slave trade</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
are growing. I’m in no way trying to belittle the horrific trade that went on
for years, but I didn’t do it. I’m in no way responsible, and I’m being asked
to pay for something which happened hundreds of years before I was born. So…
the suggestion has been made that the UK funds its reparations by suing Norway
and Italy for the Viking and Roman invasions.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Why not?</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">If I’m responsible for
something that is nothing to do with me and happened hundreds of years before I
was born, then so are today’s Italians and Norwegians. And if that sounds
ridiculous, then so is expecting me to take responsibility.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And then there was
someone asking for prayers for her dog who had a kidney infection. Recently the
same dog has had liver issues, surgery to remove a toy that he’s swallowed, and
back problems. Why pray to a god to solve an issue that this god could have
prevented in the first place?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile there was
quite a bitter argument kicking off about whether the cartoon character Scrooge
McDuck had ever fathered children.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">We got the dogs organised and set off to Repton and Dog Club. As we
drove we played Steve’s “<i>Guess the Lyrics</i>” competition on the radio. I
hadn’t a clue; </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> thought it sounded familiar.
“<i>Mother's got her hairdo to be done. She says they're too old for toys</i>”.
It was the Pet Shop Boys.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was a road accident on the way to Dog Club which
delayed us; there was quite a queue of people waiting to get in when we arrived.
Dog Club was great fun. One of our regular attendees described it as “<i>Disneyland
for Dogs</i>”. The dogs had great fun, and bearing in mind it is actually “<i>Ashford
Dog Socialising Club</i>” we had one or two results as well. Dogs who
previously wouldn’t leave their owner’s side were wandering around with the
others. Dogs who really didn’t like other dogs were playing. When she first
started Treacle really hated us having anything to do with other dogs; now she
tolerates them, and joins the throng when treats are being dished out.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove home Steve
was doing the “<i>Mystery Year</i>” competition on the radio. The music sounded
familiar, and in the news that year was the opening of the <a href="https://walkingpost.co.uk/fairlight-glen-beach-the-naturists/">UK’s first nudist beach</a>. I remember that place
opening; it wasn’t far from the disused sand quarry where we used to play as
kids, and a dozen or so of us would regularly traipse down to the nudey beach
at Fairlight Glen in the vain hope of seeing some really foxy young ladies in
the nip. All we ever saw was fat old blokes; one of whom would regularly
partake of an al-fresco joddrell, but we weren’t deterred.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">We had a cuppa and a
bit of cake then I made a start in the garden. <i>Not-so-nice-next-door’s</i>
tree had dropped white petals all over the place so I got the garden vacuum out
and voomed around. Then went round with the lawn mower; if nothing else dog
turds are so much easier to spot in a mowed lawn. I then pulled weeds from
gravel and bodged a repair to <i>not-so-nice-next-door’s</i> fence. The thing
is slowly collapsing; I’ve offered to pay to have it replaced but I think my
doing so caused offence.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I kicked shingle
about to cover the bare patches, I saw Bailey nosing at a small hole in the
fence. Fortunately I could see the hole was far too small for her to get
through. I carried on with what I was doing, and five minutes later I watched
her climb back into our garden through that hole.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I’d saved some slats
from a poggered fence panel which we replaced a while ago; they came in handy
today. Building a stopper for that hole only took half an hour.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I then drove </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> to the
station. Together with her mates she was off to London for some big Abba
tribute concert thingy. Dressed in what I can only describe as a “<i>wipe-clean</i>”
outfit, had it been </span><span lang="EN-US">“<i>Daddy’s Little Angel <sup>TM</sup></i>” I wouldn’t have let her
out of the house.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">We dropped </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> off; the
dogs all started crying. They were sobbing; they were so heartbroken that she’d
gone. We came back, then after another cuppa and more cake I cracked on with
fence painting. As I painted so the dogs would come to see what I was doing
then go back inside. I went in a couple of times to see what they were doing; they
were sleeping. After four hours and five panels painted I reached a sensible
stopping point so I stopped.</span></div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I cleared up, washed the paint off of my hands then spent
an hour or so ironing whilst watching episodes of “<i>Friday Night Dinner</i>”,
then over a dinner of KFC I watched a film on Netflix. “<i>Three Day Millionaire</i>”
was a comedy. I know it was a comedy because it <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Day_Millionaire">says so on Wikipedia</a>.
I’m glad Wikipedia told me it was a comedy; I would never have known.</div> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And then a message. <i>“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i> was
on the train home. Could I collect her from the station. I popped a fleece over
my pyjamas. I had a plan to leave the dogs sleeping, but they saw me putting on
the fleece, so I took them for a little ride.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> had a good day. I did
too, but I suspect hers was rather more relaxed.</span></div></div><p>
</p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-71148774123953909392024-03-15T20:39:00.006+00:002024-03-15T20:39:37.330+00:0015 March 2024 (Friday) - A Rest Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4F46WSt7LzMXx-hLaUcSTgsCm_U8AQeui1QUPJ0sfq3q8CuZ2mnfDKYZ1xew03ZEkoih98xGxWBvb4IwmRz7ETzOsx-G5fEsMngk-AqKo79dD0hEDc3w3WTKgdGFdxxYFjkMefZ8pcnbAnyRUmgnakU55VAAuUE_wlLBaJ3xbY2auqBb34Alo2DAb2Cs/s524/doughnut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="524" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4F46WSt7LzMXx-hLaUcSTgsCm_U8AQeui1QUPJ0sfq3q8CuZ2mnfDKYZ1xew03ZEkoih98xGxWBvb4IwmRz7ETzOsx-G5fEsMngk-AqKo79dD0hEDc3w3WTKgdGFdxxYFjkMefZ8pcnbAnyRUmgnakU55VAAuUE_wlLBaJ3xbY2auqBb34Alo2DAb2Cs/w400-h305/doughnut.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Apart from a vague recollection of </span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">quarrelling with Treacle in
the small hours I slept well. I had my usual morning routine, made toast,
watched an episode of "<i>Friday Night Dinner</i>", Munzed as best I
could from the sofa, then went out to have a look at the pond. It was a tad
clearer than it was yesterday but was till a tad murky. The fish are a tad more
active than they were yesterday, but the main thing was that the pumps were
still running and I could see the uv bulb glowing through its port hole.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I set off to work through the rain.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With the Aylesford
Sainsburys service station still closed I went to Ashford Sainsburys for
shopping. The petrol might not be as cheap as up the motorway, but I get Nectar
points... not that I ever do anything with them.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I went into Sainsbury's
main store first. I couldn't find what I needed so I asked an assistant. She
pointed out the sign saying "<i>deodorants</i>". I told her that I
could see the sign, but where were the actual deodorants? They weren't anywhere
near the sign. She directed me to the next aisle. Several other things had been
moved about too.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then went across to
the filling station where some chap was trying to chat up the woman behind the
till (<i>not the one with a face like a smacked arse</i>), and as he finally
walked away he crashed into the people queuing behind him. This chap had
absolutely no idea that there had been anyone else in the kiosk other than
himself and the woman around whom he had been sniffing.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">When I came to pay, the
woman with the face like a smacked arse refused to honour any of the vouchers
I'd just got from the Sainsbury's main store. Ho hum...</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The rain got worse as I
drove up the motorway. Narrowly avoiding getting blatted by the lorries I
listened to the radio as I went. There are <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-68505228">elections in Russia</a>
this weekend to choose the country's leader. The choice of candidates is
Vladimir Putin and a couple of no-hopers. Anyone who might be a credible
opposition is dead, imprisoned or exiled. Perhaps not a triumph for democracy,
but as we've seen from all the failing councils in the UK, just because someone
can say what the masses want to hear is no guarantee that they can actually
govern with any competence.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And there was talk
about one of <a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-13198159/Gordon-Ramsay-Holly-warning-car.html">Gordon
Ramsey's children</a> who is zooming about in a car which cost someone two
hundred thousand quid. Did she buy it? Was it a present? Here's a thought...
for all that there are no end of people running down the Royal Family and
saying what a bad thing their inherited wealth is, you never see anyone
whinging about the money that celebrities pass on to their family, do you?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Work was work. Compared to the last couple of
days in my life it was something of a rest. At tea break there was cake. You
can't go wrong with a jam doughnut.</div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">And with work done and doughnut scoffed I came home and got another
fence panel painted before </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> went off
shopping. I dozed in front of the telly until she came home with fish and
chips.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I like fish and chips… but prefer doughnuts.</div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-86419724943730267912024-03-14T21:33:00.003+00:002024-03-14T21:33:14.831+00:0014 March 2024 (Thursday) - Busy, Busy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuipJUgBsVbFPFe90wUWPC8hDEPnuPey2ZGyRArkmnwO3DFzWYGQQ4gvI773tmI1viQXO0dSPR_HD5kEcjzBBdPkVyMfS-eOm2XFn9joZ_R4dDhTim-7g4JZHt1rYn5CNP2HGBqhkRSgg-wsa3lelUbn9KTUNOq49rFiAEwtDj3nAnPjvgecwcEYt4Vqw/s400/Treacle%20pad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="374" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuipJUgBsVbFPFe90wUWPC8hDEPnuPey2ZGyRArkmnwO3DFzWYGQQ4gvI773tmI1viQXO0dSPR_HD5kEcjzBBdPkVyMfS-eOm2XFn9joZ_R4dDhTim-7g4JZHt1rYn5CNP2HGBqhkRSgg-wsa3lelUbn9KTUNOq49rFiAEwtDj3nAnPjvgecwcEYt4Vqw/w374-h400/Treacle%20pad.jpg" width="374" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I managed something of a lie-in this morning,
staying in my pit until eight o’clock which was something of a result.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made brekkie and had
my usual look at the Internet. I sent out four birthday wishes to friends
having birthdays (<i>the friends not having birthdays can wait their turn</i>) and
had a look-see to find out if I’d missed much. I find myself intrigued by the
antics of Matt Hayes these days; again his Facebook page was rather active.
Twenty years ago he made fishing programs for the telly. He’s coming back by
popular demand, but the “<i>popular demand</i>” has a different perspective on
Mr Hayes’ fishing programmes to that which Mr Hayes has. They see it as
entertainment. Mr Hayes sees it as livelihood and expects to be paid for making
more telly programs. I suppose he could make them in his spare time for free
and on the cheap, but that’s not what professional celebrities do, is it?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I also got the
notification that our Munzee Clan has reached level two, and we are half-way to
our monthly target. A result for those who like sticking bar codes on lamp
posts.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">With </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> at her office today,
she set off to work. I put washing into the washing machine and took the dogs
up to the woods where we had a good walk… once we’d evaded the chap with the
Akitas. That bloke is an idiot. He’s got two dogs that are far stronger than he
is, and they drag him all over the place. When he sees us coming he makes a
point of being where we are going to walk and shouting that we should give him
a wide berth. When we turn and take another path he runs to be in front of us
again. Fortunately I saw him first today.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We met a couple of other dog walkers, we posed for photos,
we ate horse poo. Quite a good walk really.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home and had the mud hosed off of our
bellies, I did the dogs’ flea treatments, hung out washing, had a cuppa and
went into the garden. Bearing in mind that it is getting warmer I thought I
might activate the pond’s filter. Take out the old ultra-violet bulb, pop in
the new one, turn it all on. Ten minutes maximum.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Getting the filter open
took some doing. And when I found the glass thingy which holds the uv bulb it
was rather stiff. I gave it some welly and as it came free so it smashed the
old uv bulb, leaving the plug bit wedged into the socket. I eventually prised
it out, got the new bulb in place, turned it all on, and had a smug smile as I
saw the glow of the new bulb from it’s port-hole and watched the water flowing.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And then the water
stopped flowing and the glow from the port-hole wasn’t there any more.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And then I saw an
O-ring laying on the decorative bridge which hides the pond filter.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I took it all apart
again and saw the watertight sleeve in which the uv bulb sits was full of
water. I cleaned and dried it all out, put it all back together again this time
with the O-ring in place and this time it worked.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then cracked on with
painting fence panels until I couldn’t move. I would have got on faster had I
not been fighting Treacle for the kneeling pad for much of the time.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Remembering what we used
to do last year I loudly announced that I was going to feed the fish, the dogs
charged up the garden to the pond. It is some months since we last did that,
but they remembered.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I ached somewhat I settled in front of the
telly and watched episodes of “<i>Four in a Bed</i>” in which people started
off best of friends but soon got nasty with each other.</div> </span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i style="font-style: italic;"> </i>came home and boiled
up a rather good bit of dinner which we scoffed watching <i style="font-style: italic;">“Taskmaster: New
Zealand</i><i style="font-style: italic;">”. </i>We’ve also got episodes of <i style="font-style: italic;">“Lego Masters: New Zealand</i><i>” </i>on
the Sky-Q box to watch as well. For all that New Zealand is geographically much
bigger than the UK, it only has half the population of London. How do they
generate so much good TV?</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">This is my third week of semi-retirement and I
feel that I’m going to work tomorrow for a rest.</div></o:p></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-9045928305358390682024-03-13T21:12:00.006+00:002024-03-13T21:12:58.337+00:0013 March 2024 (Wednesday) - Walk, FTF, McDinner, Fence Painting<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsWgu0WPvRvM4ufkZ3K0whVe86lMGRuKZMy0jzawtuCJE0m-Mzwep_ojkKVOAPPVSxDZqx_k5crpgSIN1D0AMPlO8f_kIHVi4WzfZNfPtIn6ry3epL4PnmrpSJKRhV3Ed06Sy8jmVBK-DZVeu1vfbDhgghIbJg7l6i3ZEwuYO7A8huqNv1nb3q4-lJf0/s400/Darcie%20McDinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="362" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsWgu0WPvRvM4ufkZ3K0whVe86lMGRuKZMy0jzawtuCJE0m-Mzwep_ojkKVOAPPVSxDZqx_k5crpgSIN1D0AMPlO8f_kIHVi4WzfZNfPtIn6ry3epL4PnmrpSJKRhV3Ed06Sy8jmVBK-DZVeu1vfbDhgghIbJg7l6i3ZEwuYO7A8huqNv1nb3q4-lJf0/s320/Darcie%20McDinner.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">As I scoffed brekkie I peered into the Internet. I saw I
had an e-invitation to sign a petition to get the Eurostar to stop at Ashford (</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">like
it used to</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">). I didn’t sign it. The Eurostar not stopping in Ashford is just
like all these pubs closing; if something don’t get used (</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">and therefore don’t
make money</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">) it gets the chop.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">If enough people had got on the Eurostar at Ashford it
would have kept going. It wasn’t making enough money to pay for the border
force people and ticket offices and so it closed. For all that I liked the idea
of being able to walk up the road and get a train to France, I actually did it
once, and that was when work was paying for it.</div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was also an email about a new geocache not very far
from where we were going this morning. But by the time we’d done dog breakfast
and got dressed and farted about it would have been found by someone else… in
any case the local king of the First to Find was probably already on the way by
the time I’d seen it (<i>or so I thought</i>).</div> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">So I put that new cache out of my mind, and once the dogs
were all ready I took them for their morning constitutional. As we drove to the
woods the pundits on the radio were talking about why so many </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-66878229">local councils are
going bankrupt</a></span><span lang="EN-US">. They were interviewing some Conservative
politician or other; I don’t know who he was but he made a good point.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">If you aren’t feeling well you go to a doctor who has been
to medical school and who has then acquired many years of experience. If you
need work doing on your house you have a look on review websites and pick the
best person for the job. But when it comes to running a local council we all
vote for whoever stands up and says “<i>vote for me; I’m not as crap as all the
others</i>”. Even though they probably have absolutely no experience of running
anything at all. And then we all act surprised when they can’t do the job to
which we all appointed them even though they were utterly unqualified.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">When you think about it, this is no way to run a council,
is it? And we run the country that way too.</div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to the woods, and had a good time. We played with
other dogs. We rolled in a dead blackbird. We did some filming for the movie
I’m planning to make for this year’s “<i>Geocaching International Film Festival</i>”.</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">After four miles we got back to the car. I had
a look at the listing for that geocache which had gone live earlier… still no
finds and it was only a mile away… The call of the FTF was strong.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It wasn’t long before
we were very suspiciously rummaging in someone’s front garden. As we rummaged
so a voice called out: “<i>You’re the first</i>”. I’ve been first to find a
geocache two hundred and seventy-eight times before, but there is nothing like
that smug satisfaction I had this morning when I realised I was first one to
find it for the two hundred and seventy-ninth time. Mind you I logged it at
10.25am; two and a quarter hours after publication. Round here, that’s an
eternity.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We
came home for a bath, then leaving the dogs under the supervision of <i>“er
indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i> I drove down to Folkestone. “<i>Stormageddon –
Bringer of Destruction <sup>TM</sup>”</i> had gone to school, but “<i>Darcie
Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i> had had “<i>Daddy’s Little Angel <sup>TM</sup></i>”
up quite literally all night. We went for McDinner to calm their nerves. “<i>Darcie
Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i> likes pressing the buttons on the food ordering
machine at McDonalds and letting her do so gives you the added excitement of
not quite knowing what you going to end up getting.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I had a Big Mac with extra pickles. Littlun
doesn’t like pickles; she threw hers at random passers-by. You can get away
with doing that when you are two years old.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We went back to theirs
for a cuppa and to fuss Pogo. “<i>Darcie Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i> was
impressed that I could catch a ball, and I spent far too long throwing a ball
into the air and catching it to her frank amazement.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">After a rather busy
morning I returned home, and seeing the forecast rain hadn’t appeared I went
into the garden and painted more fence panels. In the past I’ve averaged one
panel every hour and a quarter; today I got three panels done in two and a half
hours. I was impressed but ached somewhat afterwards.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I came in just as the
doorbell work. The bathroom man was bringing samples of wall and floor tiles. It
looks like this new bathroom is going to happen. I pootled on the lap-top for a
little while, then tried to move… and couldn’t.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I think I might have overdone it today. But
this is silly. A walk round the woods, McDinner, and painting three fence
panels. I can’t really do much less in a day, can I?</div></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-38674770644622136182024-03-12T20:58:00.006+00:002024-03-12T20:58:44.127+00:0012 March 2024 (Tuesday) - A Bottle of Plonk<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrW4tzEh6mQDP3mwKCdFJMdEy4ZZdkts6x6QVuOizXA-yrbnlMqlS_04jwAKnAdPyfs1FTuDwnzLosEOlWkSibDkRfNukwAt3D5tjCOIGpnWWNmRbBhrLaRg04vc_EpoSuGqIw_a4Ohgyq0u1T_xAKDilKtfPdr6l0Vqdgf-no7cy4PxttFNJS7yiAnnA/s441/plonk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="441" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrW4tzEh6mQDP3mwKCdFJMdEy4ZZdkts6x6QVuOizXA-yrbnlMqlS_04jwAKnAdPyfs1FTuDwnzLosEOlWkSibDkRfNukwAt3D5tjCOIGpnWWNmRbBhrLaRg04vc_EpoSuGqIw_a4Ohgyq0u1T_xAKDilKtfPdr6l0Vqdgf-no7cy4PxttFNJS7yiAnnA/s320/plonk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Five people on my “</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Facebook Friends</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">”
list had a birthday today. “</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Facebook Friends</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">” are odd things; only one
of these five has made any effort whatsoever to keep in touch over the last few
years.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">After my usual dull
morning routine I set off. I didn't go round the town Points-of-Interest-ing
this morning. Instead I drove up the motorway and into Aylesford where I capped
a Qrewzee and deployed a carrot on the appropriately named Bailey's bridge.
There's never a dull moment when playing Munzee.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I drove the pundits
on the radio were talking about how the Princess of Wales has <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-68534359">admitted to tweaking</a> up her family photo
that was all over the news yesterday. I can't help but feel that real
princesses run round in their undercrackers bashing things with a great big
sword, and don't ponce around with PhotoShop. That's what real princesses have
flunkies for.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And there was a lot of
talk about how much <a href="https://news.sky.com/story/vet-prices-investigation-over-concerns-pet-owners-being-overcharged-13093017">vets are charging</a> for their services. It
was mentioned this morning that fifteen years ago ninety per cent of UK vets
were privately operated. These days most are part of large corporate chains,
and don't actually advertise that most or all of the vets in any given area are
all part of the same company. They certainly don't advertise that they have a
monopoly and so can charge what they like. Back in the day when Sid needed his
teeth taking out, “<i>Daddy’s Little Angel <sup>TM</sup></i>” shopped around
for the best quote, and there was quite a bit of difference in the prices being
quoted. But nowadays with every vet being operated by the same bunch, they are
all going to quote the same price, safe in the knowledge that they won't be
undercut.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">Some woman phoned in to
the radio this morning claiming she'd just spent seven hundred quid having her
dog's teeth cleaned. My cousin is facing a two thousand pounds vet bill at the
moment.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Vets have never been
cheap (<i>My little Fudge cost me a small fortune towards the end</i>) but their
prices are getting rather out of hand.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got to work; there
was cake. Chocolate ring donuts. Given a choice, chocolate ring donuts would be
a long way down on my list of preferences, but the choice I was given was
"<i>have it or go without</i>", so I had one. It was rather good
actually.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I came home to find </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> had the
builders in. She wants the bathroom doing. I don’t. I want the bathroom done. A
subtle difference. The kitchen is rather good now it has been done, but the
actual doing was rather painful.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of cheap plonk which was
certainly better than stuff three times the price. And with dinner scoffed I
shared cheese and biscuits with the dogs. They had biscuits, I had cheese.
Sadly just mousetrap. The camembert I’d had my eye on expired three months ago
and smelt rather grim.</span></div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">And again Treacle showed how she understands every word I say. When
all the biscuits were gone I said “<i>all gone</i>”. Morgan and Bailey hung
around looking hopeful; Treacle immediately went off to sit with </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US">. She understands
every word. Treacle that is; not <i>“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i>.</span></div></o:p></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-9607925758857271382024-03-11T21:11:00.004+00:002024-03-11T21:11:28.322+00:0011 March 2024 (Monday) - Princesses<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxfI3PAYz1tnNw6BhkMLWSMr7GuGqvoXUFzHDhPyu5V_siQqmn4CpPRgHpc4FKVyvAb3lBGH0AVfg9ElDfVYnb7gAYTyAUWADIRPKJRqp5XtHB1zxCwKVe7qXqmramgha1h1qumv1YydUTA2ZzvxWzSBJCGokKTQ2kxJ-scrIZBWS-_8eqmxrqZRUtX40/s765/Royals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="765" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxfI3PAYz1tnNw6BhkMLWSMr7GuGqvoXUFzHDhPyu5V_siQqmn4CpPRgHpc4FKVyvAb3lBGH0AVfg9ElDfVYnb7gAYTyAUWADIRPKJRqp5XtHB1zxCwKVe7qXqmramgha1h1qumv1YydUTA2ZzvxWzSBJCGokKTQ2kxJ-scrIZBWS-_8eqmxrqZRUtX40/w400-h199/Royals.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Again with an alarm set I saw pretty much every
hour of the night. I gave up trying to sleep at five o’clock and watched an
episode of “</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Friday Night Dinner</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">” in which Martin was claiming innocence
about various misdemeanours and blaming his brain for making him do them.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then had a little
look at the Internet where people were quarrelling about whether or not a
narwhal could successfully breed with a Beluga. Long story short – <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-019-44038-0">they could</a>. To the vast majority
this would be a matter of the utmost indifference but some people were getting
rather nasty about the matter.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I sent out birthday
wishes to friends whose birthday was today, then set off.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I drove through a
rather dark and foggy morning. After I'd done my usual haul of Munzee Points of
Interest I headed off to work. The motorway was surprisingly busy at half past
six in the morning.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I drove the pundits
on the radio were spouting their usual drivel as they do. Apparently the world
is up in arms because <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-68531362">the Mother's Day photo</a> of the Princess of
Wales and her children was supposedly faked.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Whether this was to
cover up her illness or to make the family look better remains unclear. It
looks fine to me, but what do I know? Personally I would have thought there
were more burning issues in the world to be addressed.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">And there was an
interview with someone or other about the state of the country's schools. Yet
again the pundits on the radio couldn't find any so-called experts on education
who could pronounce the word "<i>curriculum</i>". With all of the
country's education experts talking about the "<i>kriklum</i>" is it
surprising the schools are in such a state?</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Mind you I did find
myself thinking of an old mate's sister who fancied herself as an expert on
rocks but would speak about the science of "<i>Jolly G</i>", and of
another old mate (<i>sadly dead these last fifteen years</i>) who, on the
strength of his wife's working in the pharmaceutical industry, considered
himself an expert on "<i>ibooferen</i>".</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Work was much the same
as ever. I came home via the dentist. I’d spent much of the day trying to
reschedule an appointment. Each time, after fifteen minutes holding on the
phone I was told they were busy and got cut off. So I walked in to find three
receptionists gossiping.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made an appointment for next Thursday, then
headed home.</div> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">With </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> off at the bowling
league’s booze-up I settled on front of the telly with the dogs and watched a
film. “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damsel_(2024_film)">Damsel</a></i>”
is currently the number one film on Netflix at the moment. I can only describe it
as a rather poorly thought-out version of “<i>Dungeons and Dragons</i>” with
more holes on the plot than there are in my pants, but it was quite
entertaining nonetheless. A Princess as princesses should be – running round in
her undercrackers belting things with a great big sword.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">A film on Netflix that I liked… there’s a novelty.</div></o:p></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-73600326451365040822024-03-10T19:44:00.005+00:002024-03-10T19:44:25.209+00:0010 March 2024 (Sunday) - Mother's Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZnX-lE_ssKQ4XvItAiTNO5PMhNg9sTBiasX_gVLu_wCaUPHniTV0zefcMuUPcbs-TxNIia31uJmgZ89RcNqx7RNQrEty_dzIXkiwUuX4Tp-ejPkgswzkHzBsos-4jah_Egxlwl-SBfVFn4rX-3YOQhPoZDurhmnLXDiVLFlxSS7Ud6KtqERXsjJGEMc/s550/four%20weddings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="550" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZnX-lE_ssKQ4XvItAiTNO5PMhNg9sTBiasX_gVLu_wCaUPHniTV0zefcMuUPcbs-TxNIia31uJmgZ89RcNqx7RNQrEty_dzIXkiwUuX4Tp-ejPkgswzkHzBsos-4jah_Egxlwl-SBfVFn4rX-3YOQhPoZDurhmnLXDiVLFlxSS7Ud6KtqERXsjJGEMc/w400-h293/four%20weddings.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="border: none; padding: 0cm; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I woke listening to the sound of the rain on
the bedroom window, and lay there listening to it.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got up, made toast
and peered into the Internet.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday I ran the
monthly geo-event. The thing was open to all, but I sent out about sixty
personal invitations to Kentish Hunters of Tupperware. Quite a few people came
along. A lot of people had other things to do which was understandable; things
always clash. But some of the people I thought might be along didn’t reply to
me, and all went to Coventry for a huge Munzee event… about which I knew
absolutely nothing at all until this morning’s rummage round the Internet after
it was all over. Perhaps I’m being paranoid, but this isn’t the first time this
has happened.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Would we have gone to
Coventry if we’d known about it? Probably not, but it would have been nice to
have known about it. It turns out there’s a <a href="https://calendar.munzee.com/">calendar of these events</a>. You’d think someone would make the
effort to publicise these events, wouldn’t you?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I also saw a lot of
photos of breakfasts in bed and pressies and stuff for Mother’s Day. Not that I
was particularly close to her, but I miss my mum…</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I then spent a little while chasing my tail on eBay. Yesterday </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> came home
with some little Lego houses. They were part of a series of a promotion run
jointly by Weetabix and Lego. I thought there were six sets in the promotion.
There weren’t. After seemingly ages I found that there were only three. And <i>“er
indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i> had picked up a complete set at a bargain price.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">I nipped out to the car
and drove round to Pets at Home to get dog food. Whilst I was at it I thought I
might get dog treats too.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then came home, and
in a lull in the rain we walked the dogs round the block having a little Munzee
session in which I unlocked one Qrate, got another and our clan got our first
monthly achievement. On the flip side, two of those supposedly going to be in
our clan this month did rather well at yesterday’s Munzee event (<i>the one
about which I knew nothing</i>) and have chosen to go with another more
adventurous clan. That leaves us with the same amount of Munzing to do with
only two thirds of the people Munzing that we’d planned to have.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With walk walked we had a cuppa. I could have
made a start on waking the pond for this year. I could have painted the fence.
But with the drizzle getting worse I settled myself in front of the telly and
watched a film we’d recorded some time ago. “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Weddings_and_a_Funeral">Four Weddings
and a Funeral</a></i>” is now thirty years old. To me the thing which showed
the film’s age the most was that at the weddings everyone had cameras. These
days people would use their phone to take a photo. With one or two notable
exceptions, who has a camera these days?</div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">We then watched the New Year’s episode of “<i>Taskmaster</i>”; one
round featured scoffing poppadoms. We got peckish; </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> found some
poppadoms and lime pickle in the cupboard.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Seeing it is Mother’s Day </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> was ordered
round to the abode of the first fruit of our loins, and I cracked on with my
latest project. </span><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The first time I went to a meeting of
geocachers there was a walk organised before the meet. If you turn up in the
back of beyond and see others gathering for a walk, then it is a fair bet that
you are in the right place. However when you walk in to a pub there’s all sorts
of groups here and there, and you really don’t want to approach the wrong lot.
Back in the day there was a banner for county geo-meets which we would display
so people new to the game knew where to go. Sadly the banner fell apart. I have
a plan to make a new one… if it don’t cost too much. I drew up a provisional
first draft for a design, and sent it off to the local sign-making company to
get a quote.</div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I then <a href="https://adulldayatwork.blogspot.com/">wrote up some
CPD</a> and watched the dogs. Yesterday when </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> was out
with her mates the dogs slept. But they’d had a busy day. They’d only had a short
walk this morning and had slept for much of the afternoon, and so were alert to
every sound; waiting for her return.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> eventually
returned and set about dinner. Once I’ve scoffed it I’m thinking about an early
night. For all that I’ve done nothing all day, I’m feeling all in.</span></div></o:p></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-56002389661827868282024-03-09T20:25:00.002+00:002024-03-09T20:25:17.434+00:009 March 2024 (Saturday) - Geo Meet<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgO8ntJ-QpkcSsZIL07YqEmlEbWUWs8Sv-cMyWvmlQ04BU-KGYK9oWwsI4xsaH-WkbBXBERPwRoaIF9cqVMWOl540PHeUwmFp7ZFm-jIDU8ApyfsNJpOSrIksLCQ-5eQmmpbdH0fDL7J_Niz0UfWuMqFGM6yKxcQ8X7_uZN6QAOA1F6QTR33IWwzgpRJw/s795/Marcfh%20geo%20meet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="795" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgO8ntJ-QpkcSsZIL07YqEmlEbWUWs8Sv-cMyWvmlQ04BU-KGYK9oWwsI4xsaH-WkbBXBERPwRoaIF9cqVMWOl540PHeUwmFp7ZFm-jIDU8ApyfsNJpOSrIksLCQ-5eQmmpbdH0fDL7J_Niz0UfWuMqFGM6yKxcQ8X7_uZN6QAOA1F6QTR33IWwzgpRJw/w400-h201/Marcfh%20geo%20meet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">For some really strange geocachical reason I
needed an empty sweetie tub this morning. I’d seen one in the shed on Thursday…
it wasn’t there this morning. I wonder where that went.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made toast and had a
little look at the Internet. It was still there. I sent out some birthday
wishes, and read on Facebook that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Now_Show">the Now Show</a> on Radio Four is coming to an end.
Presented by Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis it used to be funny many years ago, but
like so much on telly and radio it has been flogged to death. I once saw them
live many years ago at the Leas Cliff Hall when they were hilarious. I saw them
again at the Gulbenkian when I could only describe them as smug and
self-satisfied. Sadly, like me, they lost the spark over the years.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There wasn’t a lot else
going on on-line. So I zoomed round the garden and harvested a bumper crop of
dog turds… then zoomed round again and got even more. You’d be surprised at how
elusive a dog turd can be.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We got ourselves
organised and set off to Dog Club. Dog Club was much the same as ever… loads of
people standing in a field making polite conversation whist the dogs did dog
things. It sounds dull, but it is one of the highlights of the week. The field
is slowly drying out, but there’s still enough mud to get the dogs grubby,
especially when Kai and Roo lie down in it. There is something strangely
satisfying when someone else’s dog does something daft.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove home I got
Steve’s Mystery Year competition right – the Queen’s “<i>horrible anus</i>” –
1992. Much as I loved and admired the late Queen, she did rather score an own
goal with the <a href="https://www.historyextra.com/period/20th-century/annus-horribilis-what-happened-meaning-queens-horrible-year-the-crown/">“<i>annus
horribilis</i>” comment</a>. At the time the royals weren’t overly popular, no
one speaks Latin, and coming out with a comment like that was really giving
ammunition to her detractors.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Once home </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> dealt with
the dogs and I popped up the road for pastries. As I crossed the road some
woman in a car beeped at me and waved frantically. I wonder who she was? Mookie
in the shop said she drives past regularly shouting abuse at passers-by.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got me a croissant for myself and a pain au chocolat for <i>“er
indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i>, sent out a Munzee birthday card, and as I got ready for the next adventure so “<i>Found
It</i>” logs were arriving in my in-box from people out doing the geocaches I’d
set for today’s geo-event.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> drove us all round to
Singleton Barn where I was hosting this month’s meet-up of Hunters of
Tupperware. We had a rather good meet. Attendance was down on previous meets,
but it was good to catch up with old friends, and meet some new ones. Sadly the
ale on the pub’s pumps was a tad past its best, but having made the wise
decision of asking for a taster first I went for the bottled stuff. And we had
some cheesy chips too.<i style="font-style: italic;"> “We</i><i>” </i>being both me and the dogs.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The geo-meet was rather good; talking about
things geocachical. I got a pointer about<a href="https://coord.info/GCAJCR6"> a geo-puzzle</a> which had had me thinking for some time. I
mentioned this puzzle<a href="https://mankybadger.blogspot.com/2024/03/3-march-2024-sunday-late-shift.html"> a week ago</a> when I said “<i>I’ve
got to find two numbers. The first “is a funny one really and only consists of
three characters”. I know that one</i>”. “Well, it now turns out that I had
that wrong.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Having been the first ones to the meet, after four bottles of ale
we were the past ones to leave. We came home where I had a little snooze, and
whilst I was sparko </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> slipped out
and picked me up a pressie. Someone locally was selling Lego. Apparently his
daughter had grown out of it. I hadn’t.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> went off to her mate’s
party. I sat with sleeping dogs and watched a film on Netflix. “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bull_(2021_film)">Bull</a></i>” was a
rather good film right up until the last five minutes when it suddenly went all
surreal. But it was better than a load of stuff I’ve watched recently.</span></div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Today was rather good.</div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-47636024961193347702024-03-08T19:23:00.006+00:002024-03-08T19:23:41.899+00:008 March 2024 (Friday) - Early Shift<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1NS2bsoJMB-oxKp1xVAAvhqtyn7N8kKalC_DrICBgdcXAs1yPE1yWdJmrvo91DSAt32RFEgJg5tctHrzD5E2dxGc7l-EtSMA4b63UQG_Ns1LDLfIQWV3XXELgQR7gU6M8KISV6rYxEt1qAR-w3I5iNP9CrIP7-LsSrZaJo86Jr2amy3D5P9JZOqJAX4/s533/spaeman%20netflix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="533" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1NS2bsoJMB-oxKp1xVAAvhqtyn7N8kKalC_DrICBgdcXAs1yPE1yWdJmrvo91DSAt32RFEgJg5tctHrzD5E2dxGc7l-EtSMA4b63UQG_Ns1LDLfIQWV3XXELgQR7gU6M8KISV6rYxEt1qAR-w3I5iNP9CrIP7-LsSrZaJo86Jr2amy3D5P9JZOqJAX4/s320/spaeman%20netflix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Having been sleeping rather well all week, with
an alarm set I was wide awake from three o’clock this morning.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I gave up laying awake,
took my Seven Seas stuff. made toast, and watched an episode of “<i>Friday
Night Dinner</i>” in which “<i>Horrible Grandma</i>” came to visit. Then I had
a quick look at the Internet just in case anything revolutionary had happened
overnight. It hadn’t; it rarely does. The only thing of note was quite a bit of
consternation being expressed over the local branch of Peacocks closing down.
Peacocks is a local store which caters for people who like to dress as though
it was still 1980. The observation had been made that you can get better stuff
cheaper from Amazon, and there were those bleating that not everyone can shop
on-line. Seriously? I’m sorry, I don’t want to come over as rude or uncaring
but we are half-way through the third decade of the twenty-first century. Not
being able to order stuff on Amazon is akin to not being able to read or write.
I’m a sixty-year-old grandparent and can manage. I know people twenty years
older than me who can use the Internet easily enough.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I set off to work via
some Munzee Points of Interest as I do. As I drove the pundits on the radio
were talking about how ITV are looking to make savings. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/business/2024/mar/07/itv-profits-plunge-by-60-amid-brutal-advertising-downturn">Profits
are down</a> because advertisers aren't keen to throw money at them anymore. It
would seem that, like me, more and more people have discovered the "<i>fast-forward</i>"
button and aren't actually watching the adverts anymore.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was also talk
about how ex-Prime Minister Theresa May has decided to stand down as a Member
of Parliament at the next general election. Faced with an almost certain fall
from Prime Minister to obscure opposition MP, I can't say I blame her. It was
nice of her to give the news <a href="https://www.maidenhead-advertiser.co.uk/gallery/maidenhead/195180/maidenhead-mp-theresa-may-to-stand-down-at-next-election.html">to
her local newspaper</a> and let them have the exclusive story.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got to work. I'd not
been to Maidstone for nearly three weeks. I found I rather missed the place.
Compare that to other places I've worked where I felt physically ill at the
prospect of going in.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I did my thing so my
phone beeped. All the geocaches I'd prepared in readiness for tomorrow's
geo-meet had gone live, and within an hour or so they were all found for the
first time. That showed the puzzles were solve-able and that the co-ords were
right.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Being on an early shift was a result. I got
home and with <i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> off to see her mum I cracked on with the ironing. As I ironed I watched
a film on Netflix: “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spaceman_(2024_film)">Spaceman</a></i>”.
According to Wikipedia it “<i>follows an astronaut sent on a mission to the
edge of the solar system who encounters a creature that helps him put his
earthly problems back together</i>”. According to me it was a right load of old
tripe.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I seem to think
that about more and more films these days.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> is coming home with
KFC for my tea… with any luck.</span></div></o:p></span></div>
<p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-83275255925272941682024-03-07T18:49:00.004+00:002024-03-07T18:49:24.871+00:007 March 2024 (Thursday) - World Book Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHWRsgd9sf2yOHKeIk5NOa8d-AWi-SLjQ5LuwYPh-Vi5H0zRVNRMB3ocPcjL3m09E8pUlk0rLMxfK11PGcNVATkn7DL2tk02Mem_raQ9QLN8Ofgz4LVtPLt8dbVHwTkJUW3YQU-W8MfCrdFf-WY8CAOpzdCgTu8sAdPDojMCuztFjlJTZnp9cD2-Vhtk/s818/fence%20painted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="818" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHWRsgd9sf2yOHKeIk5NOa8d-AWi-SLjQ5LuwYPh-Vi5H0zRVNRMB3ocPcjL3m09E8pUlk0rLMxfK11PGcNVATkn7DL2tk02Mem_raQ9QLN8Ofgz4LVtPLt8dbVHwTkJUW3YQU-W8MfCrdFf-WY8CAOpzdCgTu8sAdPDojMCuztFjlJTZnp9cD2-Vhtk/w400-h195/fence%20painted.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I woke to find Morgan’s head pressed up tightly
to mine. The two of us lay there for seemingly ages; him snoring and me not
wanting to wake him.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I eventually got up,
took my Seven Seas joint tablets, made toast and had my usual peer into the
Internet. I received a “<i>Top Fan</i>” badge from the Facebook page “<a href="https://www.facebook.com/saveusfromfukwits2"><i>Save us from fukwits – 2</i></a>” this morning. I have
no idea what I did to earn that accolade. I sent out a birthday wish, and
looked at all the pictures of small children dressed as characters from
children’s literature, nursery rhymes or TV shows. Today is World Book Day and
rather than reading anything, children are encouraged to dress up. I’ve ranted
about this before… there’s adverts on the telly at the moment from McDonalds
who are raising money to increase literacy in children. They claim <a href="https://www.thebookseller.com/news/nlt-research-says-almost-a-million-children-dont-own-a-single-book">one in five children</a> don’t even own a book.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">In the past I’ve come
up with a list of my top ten books for World Book Day. You can <a href="http://www.mankybadger.co.uk/Books/index.htm">see it here</a>. On reflection I don’t
think my choices have changed since last year.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I took the dogs up to
Kings Wood. On Monday I wrote “<i>As we went the dogs found a dead blackbird to
roll in</i>”. On Monday I buried the thing under a huge pile of leaf litter. This
morning one of them dug it up, and all three rolled in it.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Dogs are foul
creatures.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we walked we
exchanged pleasantries with a few other walkers, but there were no episodes,
for which I was grateful. In fact the only real incident was seeing a spaniel
dragging half a tree which was tangled in his fur, and the dog’s mummy whinging
that she would need to cut the dog free of the tree when she got home</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home; I had a
quick cuppa then cracked on in the garden. I got three fence panels painted. It
really does look an improvement on how it was. Rather than painting more, I mowed
the lawn, and decided that over four hours gardening was enough for today.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Having been out with the dogs for a couple of
hours this morning and been working in the garden this afternoon I’m not
hurting anything like I thought I might be. I ache, but nowhere near as much as
I’ve done in the past. Are these Seven Seas joint tablets working? Bearing in
mind how sceptical I am about that sort of bollox, it would really boil my piss
if they were.</div></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-76181971571225971392024-03-06T21:26:00.009+00:002024-03-06T21:26:48.081+00:006 March 2024 (Wednesday) - Painting Shed and Fences<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGNdxhNXjc9b_xTyzJKjVCqoCfler0QUX9FBylWkNJnVlaPmJSGnyh1Cam3GyBXM1ifDATRCAEGej8adIFG59xaWRLlgZQ6HSHdCE4iTyJQXGgIzbHevZpai8Gq-jkG0ubCzLqhmsoqrkD4GAd4vHQRNGRi8K3Z-bHyBnhHBy5iobg03Fi_-hQBQZ2DE/s660/shed%20painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="660" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGNdxhNXjc9b_xTyzJKjVCqoCfler0QUX9FBylWkNJnVlaPmJSGnyh1Cam3GyBXM1ifDATRCAEGej8adIFG59xaWRLlgZQ6HSHdCE4iTyJQXGgIzbHevZpai8Gq-jkG0ubCzLqhmsoqrkD4GAd4vHQRNGRi8K3Z-bHyBnhHBy5iobg03Fi_-hQBQZ2DE/w400-h238/shed%20painting.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">After a good night’s sleep I sparked up the
lap-top and scoffed toast as I peered into the Internet as I do most mornings.
This morning’s petty squabble was about ex-Blue Peter presenter John Noakes and
his dog Shep. Was the dog the property of Mr Noakes or of the BBC? Bearing in
mind the dog died </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Noakes#:~:text=On%2020%20January%201987%2C%20the,had%20died%20three%20days%20before."><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">thirty-five years ago</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> you would think people
would have better things to argue about, wouldn’t you?</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">I took my Seven Seas
mineral supplement and we drove up to the woods where my watch assures me we
walked for four miles. Or Treacle and I walked for four miles; with their
zooming to and fro Morgan and Bailey must have covered five miles, if not six.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Sadly my idiot magnet
was at full power. As we walked down one slope to walk up another we met a
young lady and her dog wading through the mud in the valley. She looked at my
boots and gaiters, looked at her <i>pink-princess</i> trainers, and then looked
at the mud in the valley in front of her as though she was going to cry. I told
her that there was a lot less mud on the higher ground; this came as a major
revelation to her. Don’t people realise that water runs downhill?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And we met the old
couple with the beagles on the leads. We’ve seen them before. The old woman
with one of the beagles isn’t strong enough to control the dog and gets dragged
all over the place by it, so we always give them a wide berth. Seeing them
coming we turned off along another path, but Morgan wandered up to say hello. I
whistled at him and he stopped. The old bloke clearly didn’t realise that
Morgan had stopped and started ranting loudly at his wife (<i>deliberately loud
enough for me to hear</i>) that whistling doesn’t control dogs, and all dogs
should be on leads at all times as that is the only way to control them. I
whistled again and Morgan ran to me, and we went off on our way. As we walked I
could hear the wife saying something to which the old bloke told her not to
start.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home to wash
the mud off, and after a cuppa I went outside. I got the front fence, shed and
the fence panel behind the shed painted. It only took hour hours to do. I’ve
got the leccie box by the pond, a few planters and a couple of dozen fence
panels still to paint. In the past I’ve averaged an hour and a quarter to do
one fence panel, so I’ve still got a lot to do. And once all the painting is
done I need to look at the shed roof and I want to build a couple more planters.
And put rockery plants round the bog filter. And get the pond filter’s bulb
changed.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I also noticed that the
instructions on the paint have changed. The last time I painted fences the
stuff reckoned it was good for up to five years; now it says it is good for up
to two years. So I need to be doing those fences every year. Not once every
four years – the last time I painted them was August 2020.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i> </i>boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching the last episode of Johnny Vegas
in <i>“</i><i style="font-style: italic;">Carry on Glamping</i><i>”.</i> We quite fancied the idea of<a href="https://www.melbournehall.com/johnny-vegas-glamping/"> a weekend away</a>
in one of his buses or helicopters or boats. On the one hand the place is dog
friendly and isn’t ridiculously expensive. However on the other hand it is
nearly a four hour drive away. Probably just as well the place is pretty much
already fully booked for this year.</span></div></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-27624896660875950162024-03-05T20:33:00.002+00:002024-03-05T20:33:26.297+00:005 March 2024 (Tuesday) - Aching, Jigsaws<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVofs5Vdp4NDqqYPagULYyFRDaxRGTDZGrx3e9xB5k24QdG_8R8FXqEzpeEF2N-ODbmqESvdfAmpt_aZnBWM-UQmfbXovH-J85bB14GjwN3ekTUBVBLJ1PEo1M6oflLDhQacA_snQzem_hKAifU0kdaBmrl6rayjWiFMyjn8ksfXONVgy5i8nFrmy-XHE/s816/seven%20seas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="816" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVofs5Vdp4NDqqYPagULYyFRDaxRGTDZGrx3e9xB5k24QdG_8R8FXqEzpeEF2N-ODbmqESvdfAmpt_aZnBWM-UQmfbXovH-J85bB14GjwN3ekTUBVBLJ1PEo1M6oflLDhQacA_snQzem_hKAifU0kdaBmrl6rayjWiFMyjn8ksfXONVgy5i8nFrmy-XHE/w400-h195/seven%20seas.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I hurt when I woke up. More and more I seem to
be constantly aching. Perhaps I should have done all the semi-retirement time
off forty years ago when moving about didn’t hurt so much?</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made toast and
scoffed it as I peered into a dull internet. Today’s squabble was between
Doctor Who fans. People who discovered the show recently feel the old episodes
dragged on and on interminably. People who’ve been watching the show for years
think the new episodes are over too quickly. Both sides have a point.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And now that Doctor Who
has been bought by the Disney corporation there was talk of the rumours that
Warner Bros are planning the buy the Star Trek franchise from Paramount. Are
they? It is easy to forget that what I see as entertainment is primarily a money-making
business.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got the leads onto
the dogs and we tried to set off… Sadly the road was gridlocked because of
four-way traffic lights at the Chinese take-away. And as is always the way, no
one was actually doing any road work.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We eventually got
going. As we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how there are
calls in Russia for them to attack the western countries that are supplying the
Ukrainians with weapons. I can see their point. If one country bombs another,
that’s an act of war. But what if one country gives another country a bomb with
the sole intention that this other country is going to use it?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to the woods and
had a rather good walk into a part of the woods in which we’ve not been for
some time. We won’t be going back to that art in a hurry… it was on the muddy
side. Whilst we were there we barked at a horse (<i>who was minding his own
business in a field</i>) and we <a href="https://coord.info/GCAMDKF">hid another geocache</a>. To get the final
location you have to do a jigsaw puzzle. You can do the jigsaw puzzle <a href="https://www.jigidi.com/solve/79zhjbq7/the-c-o-s-in-kings-wood/">by clicking
here</a> if you fancy a go.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home, had a
bath, dog brekkie, a cuppa and a Belgian bun and I unwrapped my Amazon
delivery. I’ve got fed up with aching all the time, so I’ve got some thirty
days worth of Seven Seas joint care supplex and turmeric with glucosamine, omega-3
vitamins C and D and manganese. Go me(<i>!</i>) I doubt it will do anything,
but (<i>if nothing else</i>) in a month’s time I can complain on here about
what a waste of money it was.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then I loaded the car
with rubbish and set off again. Through the traffic lights to B&Q where I
met someone with whom I used to work. We chatted for ages, then I got two tubs
of fence paint, then drove through the traffic lights and set off to the tip.
Usually if you want to meet odd people doing strange things, the tip is the
place to go, but today things were thankfully rather dull. I drove in, dinged
out my rubbish and went. If only all tip visits went that easily.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Pausing only briefly in
the town centre for Munzical purposes I drove over to the hospital for my
pre-operative assessment. My weight was a tad high, but you can tell that by
looking at me. My blood pressure was148/88 which I was told wasn’t anything to
worry about but Google says that’s a tad high too. Bearing in mind how much I
walk with the dogs I would have thought it would have been lower.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps I need to lose
weight…</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I came home through the
rain via Pets at Home where I collected the dogs’ flea treatments and got them
a chew treat each. And once home I got the message that the geocache we’d
hidden earlier had received the thumbs-up from the geo-feds.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As the dogs chomped on
their treats I made myself a cuppa and guzzled it with a chocolate hot cross
bun (<i>rather odd!</i>) and sulked. I had plans for the afternoon. I wanted to
change the ultraviolet bulb in the pond’s filter and start painting the shed,
planter, pond leccie cupboard and fences, but it was hossing down.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">So I settled in front
of the telly with a sleeping Morgan and watched more episodes of “<i>Four In A
Bed</i>” in which the hatred between some of the contestants was tangible.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I watched so my
phone beeped. That geocache we’d hidden earlier had been found for the first
time. Someone had seen the notification, solved the puzzle, driven nine miles
to the woods then stomped through a mile of mud to where we’d hidden the thing
all in under two and a half hours. The pull of being First to Find is strong…</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> is Zooming at her
mates. I’m going to have a look at the geo-map in Kings Wood. The puzzle series
of geocaches I put out a year ago has been found eighty times. It’s good for
this summer, but in the autumn I will probably need to re-vamp it. And that
will take some doing.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile one of the dog’s anal glands needs doing; there’s
a distinctive smell about the place. I wonder which dog it is… I’m not keen on
sniffing too closely.</div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-90467751784919188942024-03-04T21:40:00.009+00:002024-03-04T21:40:52.221+00:004 March 2024 (Monday) - Squirrels, Pressure-Washers<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68m974-ux_lXSc5LBrkrsIlGBaseaVKPuk-RVR3Q9xpofOgZagHUWOePY9WctnIJ2kg1pY2rB-EcQ7Rd86Q4IHLagw3DJzywEDUTydRCVX22Kden8cAYQItb2saoO2F9M7VDNtnYTBz34nUYfgWuEpRmQu3o7URLByRrfONCDhESpqSaGtYwRZ2q4Nac/s445/Bailey%20squirrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="445" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68m974-ux_lXSc5LBrkrsIlGBaseaVKPuk-RVR3Q9xpofOgZagHUWOePY9WctnIJ2kg1pY2rB-EcQ7Rd86Q4IHLagw3DJzywEDUTydRCVX22Kden8cAYQItb2saoO2F9M7VDNtnYTBz34nUYfgWuEpRmQu3o7URLByRrfONCDhESpqSaGtYwRZ2q4Nac/s320/Bailey%20squirrel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The internet is an amazing thing… This morning
on my Facebook feed a vague acquaintance announced his amazing discovery that
so much of it isn’t actually free but is paid for my advertising. Which is why
there are so many adverts on it. How can supposedly intelligent people take so
long to realise this? And some American evangelist was claiming that atheists
ate deep-fried embryos whilst his </span><a href="https://twitter.com/pastoralexlove?lang=en"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">own Twitter feed</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> was offering that the
chap would pray for you for a price.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile I had an
email – my credit rating has gone up again. That was nice.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Seeing the sun was out
for a change (<i>he typed cynically!</i>) I got the leads on to the dogs.
Morgan wasn’t keen on the idea. Strangely he never is. He clearly loves the
walks when we get to the woods, but never wants to actually go.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove up to the
woods the pundits on the radio were talking about how today marks the fortieth
anniversary of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1984%E2%80%931985_United_Kingdom_miners%27_strike">the miner’s strike</a>. Several experts were
wheeled on including Neil Kinnock who was the leader of the opposition at the
time. The observation was made that the
leadership of the miners made a bit of a balls-up in waiting until the country
had stockpiled loads of coal and waiting until the worst of the winter was over
before starting the strike. Neil Kinnock made the observation that everyone
involved in the coal industry knew its days were numbered and it would have
been far better had everyone made the effort to invest in transitioning away
from coal than in flogging a dead horse. At the time the country was divided on
whether or not to support the miners; I think my father summed it up when he
made the observation that it was already cheaper to import coal from Poland,
and then the miners chose to go on strike anyway.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to the woods and
walked one of our usual walks. As we went the dogs found a dead blackbird to
roll in. And after one of their mad charges into the trees, Morgan came back
carrying a dead squirrel. He got to within ten yards of me, looked very
sheepish and ran into a thicket where he dropped it. Bailey picked it up and
seemed very pleased with herself.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I managed to get it off
of her and I put it up a tree where the buzzards will see it off.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m pretty sure Morgan
just picked up a dead squirrel and didn’t kill it himself; in the past when
Treacle, Pogo and Fudge had small animals, the things would be twitching for
some time after death. This squirrel wasn’t twitching at all.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Dogs can be foul
creatures…</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home where I
made a cuppa, then I went into the garden, cleared the patio area, set up the
pressure-washer, turned it on… and nothing happened. I gave it a clout and it
made an odd noise. So I unplugged it and attempted to take it apart to see if I
could fix it. The screws holding it closed seemed rusted in place. I gave it
another clout, plugged it back in again and it worked perfectly. I got the
patio and the area outside the kitchen window scrubbed, but it took some doing.</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever
pressure-washed a patio? After a very short bit of pressure-washing the ground
is soon awash with filthy black water which needs to be swept away. Sweeping it
down the drain is OK for five minutes, then the grate over the drain blocks up
and needs unbunging. By the time I’d washed, swept, washed, swept and tidied
up, a couple of hours had passed. I put everything away and found that after
all the exertions I could barely move.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I settled myself in front of the telly and
watched episodes of “<i>Four in a Bed</i>” in which those claiming to have years
of experience of running five-star hotels were outdone at every turn by those
running a B&B for fun.</div></span><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div></i><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i> </i>boiled up dinner and
went off bowling. I sparked up Netflix and watched a film.<i> “</i><i style="font-style: italic;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mercy">The Mercy</a></i><i>” </i>starred Colin
Firth as a competitor in a single-handed round-the world yacht race in 1968. I
won’t say too much about the film for fear of giving spoilers, but I will make
the observation that with today’s technology you would have been far more alone
sailing the world alone then than you would be now.</span></div></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-24069915647027062112024-03-03T23:14:00.001+00:002024-03-03T23:14:05.311+00:003 March 2024 (Sunday) - Late Shift<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AYbKSdXXhoT6YSraDw3uCATmlqN1fZ3zh9CLcwXuj2R_EZaUU4rLaFN-ypmqBE9gQtMK4QeEnkaduYM_lFB658ZIjE89SyRBsOctC3cd8sUPvJaYB0qCedS_ukjb-3mSCx42tnpZs4lxASVX7NY6vlxl8KSI8rOFjcjXMRZ7t_iRCrydpdFsD26Yinc/s929/darcie%20point%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="929" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AYbKSdXXhoT6YSraDw3uCATmlqN1fZ3zh9CLcwXuj2R_EZaUU4rLaFN-ypmqBE9gQtMK4QeEnkaduYM_lFB658ZIjE89SyRBsOctC3cd8sUPvJaYB0qCedS_ukjb-3mSCx42tnpZs4lxASVX7NY6vlxl8KSI8rOFjcjXMRZ7t_iRCrydpdFsD26Yinc/w400-h166/darcie%20point%201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
can always remember the golden rule of toddlers being that you never let them
have a nap. “</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Darcie Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> had a nap yesterday evening
and consequently was screaming for much of the night. Fortunately she, </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er
indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> and the dogs were up in the attic room, but the
noise got so much that Treacle decamped to my bed at half past two just to get
some peace and quiet.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I
woke at eight o’clock, and with everyone else finally asleep I made the most of
the peace and quiet, made brekkie and peered at the Internet. Today people were
deliberately trying to pick fights about daleks and Amazon deliveries. Always
something new to quarrel about, eh? There was also a question about people’s
favourite format for the story of The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. To me
it is a radio program; that is how it first started. The books and films and TV
series have been made for those who don’t/won’t listen to radio. In much the
same way that the Harry Potter films were made for people who don’t/won’t read
a book. But I thought better of voicing the opinion.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Making the most of the
peace and quiet I had another look at <a href="https://coord.info/GCAJCR6">the geo-puzzle</a> which had me stumped yesterday. I’ve got to
find two numbers. The first “<i>is a funny one really and only consists of
three characters</i>”. I know that one. I won’t give it away, but I will say
that it was part of a geo-puzzle to which I got the answer a week or so ago.
The other one has me stumped. With five or six (<i>can have either!</i>)
characters, it “<i>was once used as a number before more modern (and more
sophisticated) numbers were discovered. Nowadays it is more often used in a
recreational context</i>”. If anyone knows what it is, feel free to let me
know.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">With everyone else
still asleep I spent a few minutes pootling in the garden. A bit of tidying
up... once dog turds were gathered it was mostly emptying rain water out of
buckets and pots, and getting ready for the next bout of pressure-washing.
There's probably a car-full of rubbish in the shed to take to the tip at some
point as well, but I decided to worry about that another day.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er
indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> and <i style="font-style: italic;">“Darcie Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i><i style="font-style: italic;"> </i>emerged from
their pit, and I spent a few minutes with littlun looking round the garden. She
seems to find it fascinating. But all too soon it was time to set off to work.
I went via a dozen dull Points of Interest <i style="font-style: italic;">(now the Munzee Clan War has
started for this month</i><i>)</i> to the Sainsbury's petrol station where in a novel
break with tradition absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. I
mentioned to the woman behind the till about the old bat who works there during
the week and bends over backwards to be unhelpful. This got them all giggling
behind the tills; they knew exactly who I meant.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">As I drove west-wards
to Pembury I listened to "<i>Desert Island Discs</i>" <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rita_Rae,_Lady_Rae">featuring Rita Rae</a> who
is a Scottish lawyer and judge who has a fascinating life story and a frankly
dreadful taste in music. Her choices of
music weren't songs; they really were strange howling noises. I turned off
half-way through and sang along to Ivor Biggun songs instead.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Work was work. I always
say that working in a blood bank is hours of tedious boredom interspersed with
moment of stark panic. Somewhat flippant perhaps, but not entirely wrong. It
certainly summed up today where time dragged up until the last hour when things
suddenly livened up.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I was very glad to see
the night shift arrive.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I came home to a rather good pork chop. </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> certainly
does boil up a good bit of scran.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Daddy’s Little Angel <sup>TM</sup></i>” has
announced she wants to start buying storage lockers full of crap and selling it
at a profit. This sounds like an awful lot of farting about to me, but once she
gets a daft idea in her head… she is very much her father’s daughter…</div></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-40424170774061368472024-03-02T21:06:00.004+00:002024-03-02T21:06:29.268+00:002 March 2024 (Saturday) - Awaiting Waa-Waa's Arrival<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOS3oOdHA6Zuglkdsa8MC6x5_OKdwFrpSJtfZmdujyh-ZKJMMqwBbcHxQuDRAIp0njIJx5ae9UP20hX1BN0_fNB8lcxigzJU7uBivzipj23KxiHyY-RXLSeM4xfqPAMxz5EZqyXj_8V9l0CraGoVZ3w8edWurAgSS3iyyJs2LEaNcG8nqyHtIuRjRg4g/s475/darcie%20dog%20snogging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="475" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOS3oOdHA6Zuglkdsa8MC6x5_OKdwFrpSJtfZmdujyh-ZKJMMqwBbcHxQuDRAIp0njIJx5ae9UP20hX1BN0_fNB8lcxigzJU7uBivzipj23KxiHyY-RXLSeM4xfqPAMxz5EZqyXj_8V9l0CraGoVZ3w8edWurAgSS3iyyJs2LEaNcG8nqyHtIuRjRg4g/w400-h276/darcie%20dog%20snogging.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I woke with quite a headache this morning. We
won’t get that brand of red wine again. I made toast and looked into the Internet
and rolled my eyes. American football
player </span><a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/nfl/article-13142197/NFL-Tyler-Owens-space-planets-flat-earthers-Texas-Tech.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Tyler Owens</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> has revealed that he
does not '<i>believe in space or other planets</i>”. Seriously. Just look up at
the night sky… The chap also seems to think the flat earthers are making some
serious points. Not only is this chap allowed to vote and do jury service,
being a sports star, gullible people will listen to his drivel.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Here’s a suggestion.
When people reach adulthood they should sit an exam. If they pass they are
allowed to join in with society. If they fail, they become effectively a “<i>protected
citizen</i>” looked after by a state to which they are demonstrably unable to
contribute. It’s an old idea in sci-fi, but surely one with merit. How can our
current democracy work when the opinion of someone like this is of equal value
to someone who actually believes in reality.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Being Saturday I took
the hounds round to Dog Club. Just me; <i>“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i> was
off to Craft Club. I had wondered whether I would be taking them this morning
after yesterday’s rain, but the rain had eased up a little. The ground was
still muddy though. We had a great time. Honey who started only a month ago and
had been oh-so-timid came straight up to me to say hello. Bailey had a go at “<i>fetch</i>”
in that she chased after the ball, but lost interest when it stopped bouncing.
Fudge used to do that – I think he was colourblind. Is Bailey too? Treacle did
her usual trick of carrying a ball and prompting me to try to take it. And then
Morgan and Bailey joined in with the bigger dogs playing chase in the mud.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove home so the
rain got worse. I got the mystery year competition on the radio right. What
year was the TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited released? 1981.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home for a
serious scrub. All three dogs got far filthier after half an hour at Dog Club
than they ever do after hours in the woods.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With dogs scrubbed I
put my trousers though the washing machine – they were filthy too. I then sent
out messages about next week’s geo-meet to fifty Hunters of Tupperware.
Hopefully that should drum up the numbers.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And talking of numbers
I then struggled with a <a href="https://coord.info/GCAJCR6">new geo-puzzle</a> that went live this
morning.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> returned, and as the
rain stopped so I got the pressure-washer out again and had a go in the back
garden. I got quite a bit cleaned, but there’s still a lot more to do. I could
have carried on pressure-washing but the lawn was awash where I’d been at the
stepping stones, so I packed up for today.</span></div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> went off again to get
glasses, so I sparked up the telly and laughed at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Aliens">“<i>Ancient Aliens</i>”</a>
on the telly. Rather akin in intellectual ability to the American footballer
who boiled my piss this morning, the people who made this show wanted to
attribute absolutely everything to aliens. Given a dog turd in my garden, and
three guilty-looking dogs, these people would have you think some
hyper-intelligent alien species flew half way across the universe to dump on my
lawn. And these idiots would do anything to discredit the obvious explanation.</span></div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> returned again, this
time with</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> <i style="font-style: italic;">“Darcie
Waa Waa <sup>TM</sup>”</i><i style="font-style: italic;"> </i>in tow. Littlun is having a sleepover. So far we’ve
done dog-snogging, had a tantrum over not wanting our dinner, eaten a bag of Christmas
<i style="font-style: italic;">(crisps</i><i>) </i>and a bag of party rings, and as I type littlun is having her
grandmother walk her up and down the stairs.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Much as I love her, she’s hard work. I can’t remember “<i>My Boy <sup>TM</sup></i>”
and “<i>Daddy’s Little Angel <sup>TM</sup></i>” being anything like as tiring.</div></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-18706266064716006232024-03-01T22:27:00.005+00:002024-03-01T22:27:44.229+00:001 March 2024 (Friday) - Battle Abbey, Pressure Washing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA12zX9eGbFdS22Cm5IjIo1UNw9WQgsgdd67S301nATTHaHkpYbdv_xEgwCSgvCKSgnEB-8CTvl2uBoH09HK1VGMHSGynrIQ3MaPRxqhmluQ9fCmtqQxRp3LwxNq2NryuhZUylPWO-oHGr3ITAdrM6dtUT4jKglx4JyHFmRQ3C5km50kaATenZ8-g6H8s/s767/Battle%20abbey%20virtual.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="767" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA12zX9eGbFdS22Cm5IjIo1UNw9WQgsgdd67S301nATTHaHkpYbdv_xEgwCSgvCKSgnEB-8CTvl2uBoH09HK1VGMHSGynrIQ3MaPRxqhmluQ9fCmtqQxRp3LwxNq2NryuhZUylPWO-oHGr3ITAdrM6dtUT4jKglx4JyHFmRQ3C5km50kaATenZ8-g6H8s/w400-h196/Battle%20abbey%20virtual.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Yesterday I wrote “<i>I had an email about a
new virtual geocache at Battle Abbey. I thought about chasing to be First to
Find but thought better of it. It would involve an hour’s drive along country
lanes, and I’ve done enough of that already this week</i>”. What I didn’t write
was that being the first one to find a virtual geocache takes some doing as
they are very rare, and getting one gives you serious bragging rights amongst
Hunters of Tupperware. I spent much of yesterday wondering if I’d made the
right decision. I checked the </span><a href="https://coord.info/GCAJGW4"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">on-line listing</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> probably every
half-hour with a view to going down early this morning even though the weather
forecast wasn’t good.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> was off out with her
mates yesterday evening. When she came home </span><span lang="EN-US">the FTF was still unclaimed.
Did she fancy a little road trip? We pondered and thought about it,,, and at half
past eleven last night we decided we might as well… it wasn’t as though we had
anything better to do.</span></div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">It has to be said that I don’t think the dogs
were impressed…</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was a minor
hiccup on the thirty-mile drive down in that the sat-nav wanted to do as much
of it as possible on single tracked country lanes, and when we finally
persuaded it to take wider roads it wanted to take closed roads. Avoiding the
badgers, rabbits and foxes we drove through the rain and got to Battle Abbey
shortly before one o’clock where we had another minor hiccup. To claim a find
we needed a photo with the gatehouse in the background. Well… the gatehouse was
most definitely in the background but you couldn’t see it because it was too
dark. So since no one was watching we moved the car so that the headlights lit
up the gatehouse (<i>a bit</i>) and photographed like things possessed in the
desperate hope that we’d get a decent photo before the rain started again.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We got one or two…
Bearing in mind that were taken in pitch darkness they aren’t a good as they
might be,</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was fog on the
way home… And all the traffic lights that I’ve whinged about before. By the
time we’d got home and I’d done the on-line geo-things in was half past three
before I found myself fighting the dogs for bed space.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I woke at half past
eight this morning; I might have slept longer if not for the sound of the rain.
Over brekkie I had a little look at the Internet. It was still there. I sent
out birthday wishes to two Facebook friends.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">My piss boiled somewhat
at an advert I saw on one of the fishing Facebook groups I follow. I’ve
mentioned in the past that fishing tackle manufacturers get tents, re-brand
them as a “<i>bivvy</i>” (<i>because most people can’t spell “bivouac”</i>) and
quadruple the price. But the latest racket is to knock out a sleeping bag and
camp bed as a “<i>sleep system</i>” and watch the punters hand over their money
as fast as they can.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There wasn’t much else
on-line really, which was probably for the best.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Usually I would take
the dogs out first thing, but the dogs were fast asleep after last night’s
adventure and the rain was torrential. I had a vague idea to get the pressure
washer out because it makes loads of mess which the rain would wash away, but
it was too cold and too wet for that idea, so I spent an hour <a href="https://adulldayatwork.blogspot.com/">doing CPD</a> then got the pressure washer out
anyway. The ground of the front garden is supposed to be a light brown/tan sort
of colour, but it was black. It needed a scrub. In the past, passers-by have
whinged about the mess the pressure washer makes (<i>it makes a serious mess</i>)
but today’s heavy rain would keep passers-by to a minimum, and would wash away
most of the mess.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As is always the case,
the pressure washer took quite a bit of setting up, and once set up I scrubbed
away. Two minutes scrubbing, thirty seconds brushing the water away. What the
pressure washer does is to blast the dirt off of the ground, and it leaves you
with a flood of foul-coloured water which needs to be swept away. Swept across
the pavement into the gutter. It’s the brushing of filthy water across the
pavement that winds up the passers-by. I had one once threaten to report me for
getting muck up the side of the car parked outside my own house. The fact that
it was my car was neither here nor there. I make a point of having my car
outside when I’m pressure-washer-ing so’s none of the normal people can
complain that I’ve made a mess of their car. Not that I ever have.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With pressure-washing
done the rain cleared up I took the dogs to the park. We got half-way there before
getting caught in a downpour which turned into a hailstorm, so we came home.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I had a little doze in
front of the telly, then watched some episodes of “<i>Four In A Bed</i>”. The first
B&B was run by a pair of old biddies who prided themselves on running
something that my gran’s gran would have appreciated, and when asked why the
wi-fi didn’t work, they said that having crap wi-fi was a feature, and that
decent customers don’t want wi-fi..</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The second place was a
rather average B&B run by some odd chap who hated criticism; odd really
when he had so much in his place to criticize. The third so-call B&B was an
eighty-one room hotel run by someone with a passionate hatred of the chap who
ran the second B&B. And in one of those strange quirks of fate the fourth
B&B was not a hundred yards from where we’d been taking photos of Battle
Abbey last night. Strangely this was the only place to which all the
contestants said they would return, but the place still came second to last.
Perhaps if the young lady running the place had kept her chest under wraps?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of plonk whilst watching
Johnny Vegas’s<i> “</i></span><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.channel4.com/programmes/johnny-vegas-carry-on-glamping">Carry
on Glamping</a></span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">”.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">For some reason I’m feeling rather tired</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I hope the torrential rain eases up for Dog Club
tomorrow morning..</div></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-3115688574365964282024-02-29T20:17:00.005+00:002024-02-29T20:17:30.870+00:0029 February 2024 (Thursday) - Leap Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dZ5HdUi6Ta6BE7e8Gx5ad0T2HY6WyBI5CkMtDvhOzNcDbaixkMFAe8LFYTKzlpxrotHT_sRqs8boP5bWEzRdOY6r7xT1pSkbtLcURhJS4_ZNE6JjOChUiY7jxgQIxSWHcL0BNqDlSTRSvhuRMpxU_EkDAljm0Ob_MQRH37j-eitsCVyymoHYn-vEeag/s560/leap%20day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="560" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dZ5HdUi6Ta6BE7e8Gx5ad0T2HY6WyBI5CkMtDvhOzNcDbaixkMFAe8LFYTKzlpxrotHT_sRqs8boP5bWEzRdOY6r7xT1pSkbtLcURhJS4_ZNE6JjOChUiY7jxgQIxSWHcL0BNqDlSTRSvhuRMpxU_EkDAljm0Ob_MQRH37j-eitsCVyymoHYn-vEeag/w400-h275/leap%20day.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Last night I disabled all the internet connections
on my phone and also the Bluetooth too. This morning it was oblivious to what
had been going on on-line. I think my watch must be telling it stuff overnight.
Which begs the question how does my watch know the password for the wi-fi.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made toast and had a
little look at the Internet through a connection that had my permission to be
connected. It was still there. A mostly American Facebook group I follow had
posted a rather idiotic quote from Donald Trump. As an outsider looking in at
American politics, Donald Trump amazes me. I have never seen or heard anything
about the chap which doesn’t reinforce the opinion that he comes over as a
feeble-minded simpleton. But the chap is rich and successful, has been
President of the USA once, and looks set to do it again. I must be missing
something. I asked on that Facebook group, and sadly I think I got the answer.
Everyone who posts intelligently and reasonably agreed with the idiotic
character that I see in the media. However everyone who takes no effort to cover
up their ignorance when posting thought the chap was wonderful and wouldn’t
hear a word against him.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Is the character of
Donald Trump a carefully choreographed act to appeal to the masses? I’m
convinced Boris Johnson did just that.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I also had a dozen more
adverts about the plight of pangolins.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I had an email about a
new virtual geocache at Battle Abbey. I thought about chasing to be First to
Find but thought better of it. It would involve an hour’s drive along country
lanes, and I’ve done enough of that already this week. There was also a meet-up
of geocachers to go tidying up a park in Tunbridge Wells this morning followed
by a tidy-up in Frittenden, but again I didn’t fancy the driving.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Instead we went to the
woods where we had a good walk. We chased squirrels; chasing squirrels is
rather entertaining in that usually within a second of being spotted the
squirrel zooms up a tree, but the dogs rarely notice that the squirrel has gone
up. They fly off in the direction in which the squirrel headed, zoom past the
tree, and after fifty yards run round in circles looking rather miffed that
they have been outsmarted again.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We stomped through a
swamp and rolled in fox poo. We didn’t see any normal people, but you can’t
have everything.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We didn’t come straight
home; if you log finds on four geocaches today you get a souvenir for the leap
day. So we took a circuitous route home.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Once home it was into
the bath for a scrub, washing went into the washing machine, other washing went
into the dishwasher. I had a once-round with the Hoover and then it was out
with the ironing board. As I ironed I watched a film on Netflix. “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vesper_(film)">Vesper</a></i>” was a total
load of tripe which I found myself watching in the desperate hope that it might
perk up a bit.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It didn’t.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I would have cracked on
in the garden it it hadn’t been raining. Instead I dozed on the sofa underneath
a pile of dogs.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Having plans for the evening, </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> set me up
with some KFC and as I scoffed that I watched another film. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I.D._(1995_film)">ID</a> is an old
favourite of mine. Nearly thirty years old, you can pick it up on DVD for a
quid from CEX.</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">Peering into the internet, a dog walk, housework, and watching telly. Is
this the future?</div></o:p></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-25560370234530012132024-02-28T23:06:00.005+00:002024-02-28T23:06:33.045+00:0028 February 2024 (Wednesday) - Frogs, Pangolins, Guts Ache<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRyWyV90BGhLblMse5cajg-txcOLxIlluyo6P7uEWpNFExq3C3YXOrqamz1DQykH82lQ3H9SJ6147e1n0tnL7sIz8qU9QFLRqkTJfSwtjxSxmBdOo3c1vxyzy2yIjLWNYcQVDqRI3SnMvI1DrkwLpS_SurQ3X8t0v7Lxlw-nOCbFDIpz1fczb36OV8JU/s400/munzee%20frog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="259" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRyWyV90BGhLblMse5cajg-txcOLxIlluyo6P7uEWpNFExq3C3YXOrqamz1DQykH82lQ3H9SJ6147e1n0tnL7sIz8qU9QFLRqkTJfSwtjxSxmBdOo3c1vxyzy2yIjLWNYcQVDqRI3SnMvI1DrkwLpS_SurQ3X8t0v7Lxlw-nOCbFDIpz1fczb36OV8JU/w259-h400/munzee%20frog.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Last night I made a point of making sure my
phone’s connection to the internet was switched off. And again this morning
there were no end of messages on it. How does it do that?</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I peered into the
Internet over brekkie to see if I’d missed much, and whether it had been worth
my phone’s effort to keep up with what was happening.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It wasn’t really.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I sent out birthday
wishes to two friends on Facebook, and thought about Vivian Barr who was in my
class at school for the seven years that I was at Red Lake Primary School.
Today is her birthday. We weren’t particularly close during that time at school,
and I think I’ve seen her once since I left that school in 1975, so why do I
always remember her birthday?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the Facebook
groups I follow (<i>about AI generated pictures</i>) was embroiled in a
religious squabble. After something utterly unrelated some god-botherer had
tried to claim the moral high ground, and had been asked why his god needs
people to do its will. Why can’t it do stuff for itself? Sometimes I despair –
large swathes of the world (<i>including much of America</i>) really are still
in the dark ages.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Rather than mucky
adverts, this morning my Facebook feed was filled with adverts about the plight
of pangolins. Poor little things. I’m keen to make a donation to protect them,
but I found myself with several competing charities and not knowing which one
to support.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn’t have as much
time on my hands today as I might have had, so we had a shorter walk than
usual. We went to the park. The episodes which Pogo used to provoke don’t seem
to happen with Morgan and Bailey, but we had a minor one this morning. As we
walked past the playpark bit so some small child called to the dogs. Personally
I quite like littluns petting them; it gets both sides used to the other. But
before I could do anything, mother announced “<i>give them a snack</i>” and
suddenly Morgan and Bailey were scoffing<i> </i>heaven-knows-what. Seeing my
face, mother said that it was OK, and it was only a snack. I asked if it was
poisonous to dogs, mother announced that it was only a snack. When I told her
that chocolate, onions, grapes and raisins are all a no-no, there was a look of
horror followed by a stony silence.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The dogs seem fine; I’m
sure they are. But I do wish people wouldn’t feed random crap to random dogs.
I’ve had people in the park feeding Fudge chicken bones in the past.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home as the
drizzle got worse. I gathered a bumper crop of dog turds from the garden, then
set off to work (<i>as today was a work day!</i>) and sang along to my rather
eclectic choice of music as I went. After a few miles I realised I'd not made a
sandwich, so I stopped off at the shop in Sissinghurst to get some lunch. They
do rather good pasties in there. They do a lot of good stuff (<i>their beer
selection is second to none</i>) but they don't give it away. Today they were
selling a particular brand of wine that is two quid a bottle cheaper in
Sainsburys.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As I queued to pay so
my idiot magnet kicked in. The old duck in front of me in the queue was
jabbering on at anyone who would listen; seemingly oblivious to the world
around her. Having been prompted to pay for her shopping (<i>several times</i>)
she eventually handed over some money. And then just stood there wittering on.
She had to be told (<i>several times</i>) to take her change, and eventually
the woman behind the till decided that enough was enough, and loudly told the
old biddy to pick up her shopping and go away.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It was with a sense of
relief that I drove away.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got to work where all
the Munzees in the works car park looked rather odd when I called up the Munzee
app. They all had a frog picture. Capping a frog gave you extra points today;
it's a Leap Year thing.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Work was work; I spent
the day with something of a stomach ache. Last night I finished off the stilton
which I opened last week when I found it was past its sell-by date. At the time
I thought it tasted a bit odd...</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></div>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-9884309018324230972024-02-27T21:01:00.003+00:002024-02-27T21:01:19.513+00:0027 February 2024 (Tuesday) - First Semi-Retired Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIXXR_yMo6MBwYx67BcUm658FLRxImy_syDvdcUK6dHwK4GKdjiVw6oDA0WoEgrfj39qkSE10U07-Yg1O10Y8oFmui8ba3jh3U3a_Y5qpavMgHAwztheBJ5cvR-whDedsETswgiixSxbw8T6miw1C2SBG1hc1cGWUHKIY1nW1bjaQcG6F0K3cTEERZY0/s948/kennington.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="948" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIXXR_yMo6MBwYx67BcUm658FLRxImy_syDvdcUK6dHwK4GKdjiVw6oDA0WoEgrfj39qkSE10U07-Yg1O10Y8oFmui8ba3jh3U3a_Y5qpavMgHAwztheBJ5cvR-whDedsETswgiixSxbw8T6miw1C2SBG1hc1cGWUHKIY1nW1bjaQcG6F0K3cTEERZY0/w400-h163/kennington.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">A few days ago I mentioned I’d finally got
round to doing something about my broken GPS unit. The power button was
poggered. Garmin don’t do repairs any more and had offered me a discount on a
new one. After a couple of minutes I found that I could actually get one from
the Ordnance Survey website cheaper than Garmin’s discounted price. But either
option would cost hundreds of pounds. I found replacement power buttons on
eBay, and one arrived yesterday. Yesterday evening I glued it into place and
left it to set overnight. It don’t look pretty, and the button is rather stiff,
but it has saved me quite a bit of money.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made toast and had a
look at the internet. I had a message from Facebook. A few days ago my Facebook
feed gave me four adverts. Clicking once on any of them gave a full-screen
picture of a lady's lady-bits. I reported them as sexually inappropriate and
here's the response: “<i>… We've taken a look and found that this ad doesn't go
against our Advertising Standards</i>”.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Funny old world.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I sent out birthday
wishes to five people having birthdays today, and rolled my eyes at some of the
nonsense being peddled on some of the crackpot conspiracy theory pages I
follow. So many people want t believe rubbish which has long since been proved
wrong. So many others are so quick to show their ignorance. So many are just
plain stupid. And all are allowed to vote and do jury service.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday a new
geocache had gone live a couple of miles from home. This morning it was still
unfound, so I got the leads onto the dogs and we chased off for a First to
Find… We didn’t get it. With a description of “<i>The cache is within easy
reach attached to something metal</i>” I searched the obvious targets with no
luck.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Having admitted defeat,
looking at the map I saw we could either go straight back to the car, or take a
circular route through the countryside following footpaths back to the car. So
we followed the footpaths. Or that is we followed the clearly marked paths that
people had obviously been walking. But using the maps on my phone I could see
that those weren’t the actual footpaths – those were parish boundaries.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The first field we
crossed was rather squishy swampy grassland. From there the track went up into
a field of mud, then through a wood where the mud was ankle deep. We then went
across a ploughed field, and as we walked along a fence by the side of a school
so suddenly the dogs were on the other side of the fence and heading off in
totally the wrong direction. I eventually found the hole that they’d gone
through, whistled, and they came back immediately.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home for a
serious scrub, then after a cuppa and a Belgian bun I went down the road to the
dentist. There was an idiot in the waiting room grimacing at everyone who came
out from seeing the dentist and asking why they weren’t smiling. And then
grimacing at me as though I should agree with him. Ironically he came out from
seeing the dentist with a face like a smacked arse.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The dentist seemed
happy with my gob. I came home and spent an hour pootling in the gardens (<i>front
and back</i>) before setting off on the afternoon’s mission.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I went to the co-op for
a sandwich where I met another idiot. As I queued so the chap in front of me
asked for forty fags. Getting no change out of thirty quid he then announced to
the world in general how he and his wife get through a packed of fags a day
each because of the stress of having the leccie company threatening to take
them to court for their unpaid leccie bill. It clearly never occurred to him to
knock the fags on the head.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then went round to
the Repton centre for a little meeting. The people there are happy with how
things are going with the Dog Club – they’ve not had any complaints about us,
and say they’ve rarely (<i>if ever</i>) found any errant dog turds…</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn’t realise that
we are only one of three dog groups that use the field.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">They did say though
that the Repton Centre has ongoing costs and whilst they are far from skint, he
is trying to encourage those who use the facilities to pay more if they can.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We agreed that putting
our price up to £1.50 per dog wasn’t unreasonable, and encouraging people to
pop a bit more in the pot if they can.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Personally I think
that’s a bargain and will be bunging a fiver in the pot for my three each time
from now on.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We also talked about
the possibility of a working party later in the year (w<i>hen it has all dried
out</i>) to give the field a deep clean and tidy up. And to bung up some of the
holes through which Bailey escapes.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I came home via
Shadoxhurst for geocachical reasons, and once home mended a broken dining chair
(<i>I didn’t break it…</i>) then settled myself in front of the telly and
watched episodes of “<i>Four In A Bed</i>”. The first episode featured a trip
to a B&B run by a chap who was wearing the world’s worst wig. This was
followed by a visit to a couple of lads who were half the age of all the other contestants
and for all that I felt they were streets ahead of everyone else, their age was
held against them. The third episode was hosted by a boss-eyed bloke who got
incredibly defensive and aggressive about the same failings that he was
accusing others of. And the chap running the fourth B&B went off sick half-way
through his episode and everyone else all pissed off down the road to a café.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I put a load more
washing in to scrub. <i>“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</i> boiled up dinner, and
Treacle is currently sucking on my pyjama top.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I named yesterday’s
blog entry wrongly… It should really have been “<i>start of part time working</i>”.
Today was the start of semi-retirement. Walking the dogs, pootling in the
garden, watching telly… I can do that.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Having said that, over the next few weeks I
plan to paint the garden fences, start up the pond again, plant rockery plants
round the bog filter, tidy, paint and re-roof the shed… I’ve plenty to keep me
occupied.</div></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-16120284642134042392024-02-26T22:11:00.007+00:002024-02-26T22:11:58.556+00:0026 February 2024 (Monday) - Start of Semi-Retirement<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnvxb2dktMF1xp8yUWOWIYjv_hWgFFaih5aISKquf8EwV2kI3MlJpyrAMBcXd2L_F3uKWr84QQ_nNyI33Gl7apvZ11-g9hMxMDZkb8m9WqHShKxj7y6ysAb5QQ-4mRjrSjROj49cqzrnTveQd-e4LwYZqeQctlLMAzVknkySJndG1tXwIuYe8y8BvdAA/s713/holy%20grail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="713" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnvxb2dktMF1xp8yUWOWIYjv_hWgFFaih5aISKquf8EwV2kI3MlJpyrAMBcXd2L_F3uKWr84QQ_nNyI33Gl7apvZ11-g9hMxMDZkb8m9WqHShKxj7y6ysAb5QQ-4mRjrSjROj49cqzrnTveQd-e4LwYZqeQctlLMAzVknkySJndG1tXwIuYe8y8BvdAA/w400-h225/holy%20grail.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I woke in something of a panic at five to one
this morning after a nightmare in which the world was being invaded by
supposedly sexy aliens... I say "</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">supposedly</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">" - they looked
like the sort of ones that send me dubious friend requests on Facebook, and I
was the only person who could see what was going on... in that the weren't sexy
at all and were incredibly dubious.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn't get back to
sleep after that; I looked at the clock at least once every fifteen minutes
from then until five o'clock when I gave up trying to sleep and got up.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I made toast and
sparked up Netflix. It suggested I might like “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friday_Night_Dinner">Friday Night Dinner</a></i>”.
I’ve seen odd episodes in the past, but now I shall watch them in order.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With telly watched I
had a quick look at the Internet. Following a long-standing <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2022/06/16/saudi-arabia-rainbow-toys-homosexuality-pride-month/">ban
of anything rainbow coloured</a> in Saudi Arabia, apparently rainbow coloured
kites are frowned upon in Kuwait, and kite-flyers of my acquaintance are
looking to sell quite a few of the things. Apparently just looking at something
rainbow coloured might turn you gay, or so those who give permission for kite
festivals to be held in the middle east claim.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Funny old world, eh?</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I set off to work rather
earlier than I might. As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about
how the younger members of the workforce are far more likely to be <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-68399392">phoning in sick</a> than the
older ones. It was claimed that on any given day last year, five per cent of
those in their early twenties were off sick. Some expert or other was wheeled
on who explained that the snowflake culture really has created a generation who
simply aren’t up to the strains of reality.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With a little time on
my hands I took a little diversion for geocachical reasons. Having finally got the
solution to a puzzle that has <a href="https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC7DE6E">had me stumped for years</a>
I went and found the cache this morning. It is one of those that will probably
be archived in the near future, so it was as well that I went and got it whilst
I still could.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I went on to Tesco to
get doughnuts for work. I’d taken cakes in to Maidstone on the Friday before
last week’s holiday, so it was only fair to take some in to Pembury today. As I
queued to pay, the woman on the till wasn’t happy. Apparently every Monday
between seven o’clock and nine o'clock she is expected to man the till and the
self-service machines because (<i>so she claimed</i>) all the other
till-trained staff (<i>including the manager</i>) refuse point-blank to start
work before nine o’clock on a Monday.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">She asked everyone
waiting to make a formal complaint on her behalf.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Work was work; I had something of a left-shifted day today (<i>it’s
a neutrophil thing</i>). I came home, and </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> sorted a rather
good dinner which we scoffed watching an episode of “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Osman%27s_House_of_Games">Richard
Osman’s House of Games</a></i>”. I particularly like that show, but I always find
myself thinking about some of the poor contestants. Supposedly all celebrities,
some of them are in no hurry to conceal their ignorance and show off their stupidity.
You would think their agents would advise them against going on national
television just to show how thick they are, wouldn’t you?</span></div></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">And with </span><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> off bowling
I set more laundry scrubbing, then sparked up Netflix and watched an old
favourite. “<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monty_Python_and_the_Holy_Grail">Monty
Python and the Holy Grail</a></i>” is a film I’ve seen so many times, but it
never fails to keep me amused… it is only a shame that the ending is rather
weak. That film will be fifty years old next year. </span></div></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">I haven’t got to go to work tomorrow…</div></o:p></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-1306820634127429272024-02-25T20:17:00.006+00:002024-02-25T20:17:42.435+00:0025 February 2025 (Sunday) - Another Pub<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEKsCzWJjZqQEGjI-RkUGpxLKbiYex7O2nKl72-dSbxqdnQ6gXMmHsDv6UZh2GhXuxSxv8FOwWKcCxJdAOSjeYvwCO9yV4dnrl2woCF3Q6eud618YzbhXOFWgjK6OegnGx0D5_aqpv7UEYStQfNjGgfmZx3EyMMVGarfy59t0A8bViEGBJax_1H9n5qw/s889/benenden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="889" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEKsCzWJjZqQEGjI-RkUGpxLKbiYex7O2nKl72-dSbxqdnQ6gXMmHsDv6UZh2GhXuxSxv8FOwWKcCxJdAOSjeYvwCO9yV4dnrl2woCF3Q6eud618YzbhXOFWgjK6OegnGx0D5_aqpv7UEYStQfNjGgfmZx3EyMMVGarfy59t0A8bViEGBJax_1H9n5qw/w400-h175/benenden.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I slept until backache woke me this morning,
which is usually a sign of having had a good kip. I managed to make myself
comfortable again, but Bailey stirred, and started licking my hand in her
sleep.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I got up, put a load
into the washing machine, had a shave and cut a lump out of the side of my
nose.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">In between dripping
blood on my toast I had a look at the Internet. It was still there. Yesterday’s
squabble over the dog club seemed to have fizzled out. I hope it has; I’m not
the most tactful of people and from what I can work out the squabble wasn’t
caused by my group. And when I say “<i>my group</i>” I’m still not entirely
sure how it has become “<i>my group</i>”. Having offered to open up for one
week when the organiser was on holiday I’m now key holder, collector of money,
admin of the Facebook page, and am meeting the land owner (<i>supposedly as
representative of the club</i>) in a couple of days’ time.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I then reported yet more
porn-mongers to the Facebook Feds. “<i>Volleyball girls UK</i>” claimed to be
an insurance company, but it is actually peddling filth. “<i>Business Money</i>”
claimed to be a business supplies service, but was certainly dealing in an
entirely different sort of business. “<i>Paradox Home</i>” and “<i>AWJR</i>”
claimed to be advertising agencies; one click took you to full-on lady bits.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And this morning’s
petty argument blown out of all proportion held by people who will never
actually meet was about whether or not there should be a remake of “<i>Logan’s
Run</i>”. Ironically those against the re-make were all very happy about the
series that followed the movie which was essentially a re-make.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I sorted undercrackers,
hung out washing, and spent half an hour in the garden. The lawn was far too
wet to be mowed, but I mowed it anyway. It had got too long to be able to find
dog turds with any certainty, and it was so long that it wouldn’t dry anyway.
As I gave the lawn its initial scalping I thought back to the days when the
nutty bloke lived next door. He would get very angry and aggressive whenever I
mowed my lawn. According to the strange voices in his head I was always mowing
my lawn at the wrong time. It was too cold, too hot, too wet, too dry. He could
never tell me when I should mow the lawn; only that when I was mowing the lawn
was the wrong time.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I wonder whatever
happened to him.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With lawn scalped I
then pruned some of the dead stuff out of the pond’s bog filter, then we got
ready for the day.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Knowing the dogs would
need to run off some energy we drove to Benenden where there was a little
geocaching Adventure Lab series. We spent half an hour wandering about finding
things we would never otherwise have found.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">From Benenden it was a
short hop to The Peacock at Goudhurst where we met my brother, sister in law
and oldest nephew and had a very good Sunday roast. Starting off with
whitebait, then full roast beef dinner, and ending up with Crème Brulé, we (<i>I</i>)
washed it all down with five pints of Masterbrew and a couple of glasses of
amaretto.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Not a bad way to spend
the afternoon.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Once home the dogs
slept like tired things. Yesterday they were out like lights after our full-on
day. Today was much the same. For them a busy morning is a couple of hours up
the woods; they probably really do sleep for twenty hours every day. Six hours
full-on wears them out.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">With dogs sleeping we settled
in front of the telly whilst the washing machine did its thing again.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ve had a rather good week off work – back to
the grind tomorrow – part time…</div></span></div><p>
</p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-87594464661292744262024-02-24T20:01:00.002+00:002024-02-24T20:04:27.765+00:0024 February 2024 (Saturday) - Dog Club and the Pub<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR91tBOMj3yHztcGzdVpWFL8Ouku1orq6Vng60Zl1-vCGPUpGwyH9h52dxFlmuvhn2d31J98k_UuQ-9pMrIFxBcZIZayT06Kuz5yBzm8tG7hYMk2sCFPjGZBF3cN6i8itq02kfiYzNrJvcCfOl8Z9Y1AGW0WcEN1hsjDEe73cQhIHEa1vmwakFsVOHuYo/s896/drambuie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="896" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR91tBOMj3yHztcGzdVpWFL8Ouku1orq6Vng60Zl1-vCGPUpGwyH9h52dxFlmuvhn2d31J98k_UuQ-9pMrIFxBcZIZayT06Kuz5yBzm8tG7hYMk2sCFPjGZBF3cN6i8itq02kfiYzNrJvcCfOl8Z9Y1AGW0WcEN1hsjDEe73cQhIHEa1vmwakFsVOHuYo/w400-h175/drambuie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Having the dogs still and curled up tightly made for a good
night’s sleep. I got up, made toast, and peered into the internet whilst it was
still quiet.</span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">I had another <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10168370881865403&set=a.10167113566910403">dubious friend request</a> on Facebook. This one
had more clothes on than most, but could still have done with doing up some
buttons and covering up rather than waggling about.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was quite a bit
of talk about the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10233709550619828&set=gm.731757632100429&idorvanity=126379645971567">Mount Pleasant pub</a> in Hastings on one of
the Hastings-related Facebook groups too. In my religious days I was at some
event in one of the rooms in the church opposite one Saturday evening. In
another room were a load of police (<i>with the lights out</i>) watching the
pub like hawks. A few years later I went in there on my stag night, a mate had
eleven pence in his pocket. He put ten pence in the fruit machine and was
buying the drinks for the rest of the night.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">Among this morning’s
haul of emails was one from the Credit Karma people who told me that this week
my credit rating had gone up by eleven points. I wonder why. Am I more
credit-worthy now I’m semi-retired? If so, how do they know. I’ve not told the
bank. Should I have done so?</div></o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">Being Saturday we took
the dogs to Repton for Dog Club. As we drove I had a go at Steve’s “<i>guess
the lyrics</i>” contest on the radio, and I mistook E.L.O.’s “<i>Turn to Stone</i>”
tor Rainbow’s “<i>Since You’ve Been Gone</i>”. But I got a mention on-air for
having a go.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">We had a rather good (<i>if
muddy</i>) session at Dog Club. There were some new dogs along, and everyone
charged around like things possessed.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove away I
missed getting the Mystery Year competition on the radio right by one year…</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">We drove up to Kings
Wood where we met up with Karl and Tracey. We walked a circuit of the woods in
glorious sunshine, and once back to the cars the dogs had a rather good
dog-dinner and we got our muddy boots off. And on the very second that we drove
out of the car park so the torrential rain started. Ten minutes later the
hailstorm hit.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">And it was all over in
the five minutes it took to get to Badlesmere.</div> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to the Red Lion.
Not being at our usual table we were off to one side with a lot less going on
to provoke the dogs and we had a very good bit of dinner. Washed down with
copious amounts of ale, post and Drambuie.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?vanity=manky.badger&set=a.10168371901275403"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">I took a few photos</span></a><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> of the day.</span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">Amazingly I didn’t
sleep all the way home.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">Once home I spent a few
minutes being diplomatic. Dog Club had a complaint. It would seem that one of
the later groups had based themselves up by the gate today and there had been
some barking. One of the residents wasn’t happy, but pissed on her chips by
over-stating her complaint. There was certainly no barking before ten o’clock,
and the dog club has been sound-checked before and found to be quieter than the
Eurostar which regularly goes through. As is always the way, those with a gripe
are always happy to gripe it on-line, hiding behind the curtains waiting for
everyone to go away before saying anything.</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">I tactfully gave the
sort of corporate reply that would be expected. Hopefully that should placate
the natives</div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent the evening watching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Takeshi%27s_Castle">Takeshi’s Castle</a> – they’ve
made a new series.</div></span></div><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665197135759902109.post-24756522466479275092024-02-23T21:20:00.007+00:002024-02-23T21:20:51.698+00:0023 February 2024 (Friday) - Bit Dull<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaQJk7UE_OQyk34AjzpJb7s_mAVYKYCXRLzvFN8Ph2n-57h9E4qvmHIvb-XH1tPXC-m-KGdGQ_4ZgEU9fEWs8OSNDg4hYV8ILmCMmcqGer5tiHeGNsw4Vn0IAM00z7lH326wSvAQNz2SNw9jF2TwWUzb8ZCgA_aj03wNg1itivB9JwNL5faBDHYH-jTs/s1351/yellow%20dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="1351" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaQJk7UE_OQyk34AjzpJb7s_mAVYKYCXRLzvFN8Ph2n-57h9E4qvmHIvb-XH1tPXC-m-KGdGQ_4ZgEU9fEWs8OSNDg4hYV8ILmCMmcqGer5tiHeGNsw4Vn0IAM00z7lH326wSvAQNz2SNw9jF2TwWUzb8ZCgA_aj03wNg1itivB9JwNL5faBDHYH-jTs/w400-h119/yellow%20dog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">When we came home yesterday afternoon I had a
letter from the hospital about a pre-assessment appointment at a rather
inconvenient time. I spent an hour on the phone to them yesterday trying to get
through before the line went dead when they turned it off at four o’clock. This
morning I got straight through when I phoned over brekkie. I re-scheduled and
then scoffed toast, fed the dogs, and took them on an outing.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As we drove we listened
to “<i>Desert Island Discs</i>”. Today’s castaway was the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clive_Oppenheimer">vulcanologist Clive Oppenheimer</a> who is the same age as
I am, and would seem to have a frankly dreadful taste in music. Much like
everyone on that radio show. Periodically I make a list of <a href="http://www.mankybadger.co.uk/Desert%20Island%20Discs/index.htm">what tracks I’d play</a> if I was the castaway.
</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to Kings Wood
and had our walk. Bearing in mind all the rain of the last few days we took a
relatively longer walk today following the gravelled track. As we walked we met
so many other groups of people. All with dogs on leads over a mile into the
woods. And all the dogs had yellow leads and yellow harnesses. Bearing in mind
the “<a href="https://www.yellowdoguk.co.uk/"><i>Yellow Dog scheme</i></a>”, I put my dogs onto
their leads at every encounter. And every time the other person cried out “<i>my
dog is very friendly</i>”. I told all of these people about the idea of Yellow
Dogs; a yellow lead, collar or harness means the dog may be nervous, in
training, recovering from an injury or illness or operations, being
rehabilitated or simply prefers to keep their distance from people and other
dogs. And consequently it means that other dogs should keep their distance.</div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Each person replied
that that they are constantly being told about the “<i>Yellow Dog scheme</i>”
but didn’t think it was for real.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We came home, had
bellies washed, then I made a cuppa and peered into the Internet, and did
something I’ve been meaning to do for years. Some time in 2020 (<i>I think</i>)
the button on my GPS unit broke. Over the last few years I’ve been bodging it
along; now to make it work I have to poke a pokey-thing through the hole to
make it work, and obviously it is no longer waterproof. Having been told many
times that I can send it back to Garmin for repairs I phoned the nice people at
Garmin today only to find they don’t do repairs any more. They will allow me to
trade in my current GPS for a new one and give me a thirty per cent discount…
or I could buy a new one even cheaper from the Ordnance Survey website.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">In the end I went on to
eBay and bought a new button which I can glue into place on my currently
poggered one.</div> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I settled myself in
front of the telly for the afternoon and watched episodes of “<i>Four In A Bed</i>”.
The first B&B was somewhere that specialised in welcoming dogs, and (<i>needless
to say</i>) was awash with dog hairs.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The second was run by
people who’d taken umbrage at all the dog hairs at the first place, made great
show of having high standards of cleanliness, but ironically had far more hairs
and stains in their bedding than anyone else had.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Having announced how
much experience they had in the hospitality trade, the third set made a total
arse of brekkie, and the woman running the fourth B&B told the second that
(<i>judging by her appearance</i>) she thought she had something wrong with her.
Which was ironic bearing in mind the one making the comment had a head which
was clearly several sizes too small for her body.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">In some episodes of “<i>Four
In A Bed</i>” they all are good buddies; today’s episodes were brilliant; they
all hated each other and made no secret of it.</div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> boiled up a very good
bit of dinner and when it was scoffed I shared cheese and crackers with the
dogs… I had the cheese; they had crackers. But they seemed happy with the deal.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“er indoors <sup>TM</sup>”</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> is now watching Fred
Dibnah on the “<i>Yesterday</i>” channel. He’s jumped from Cornwall to Tyneside
in one change of scene… My Dad used to like the chap. So far I’m not keen.</span></div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Manky Badgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051056595105608662noreply@blogger.com0