3 July 2019 (Wednesday) - Station !!!!

I slept reasonably well; I got up to find Fudge asleep on the landing again. Does he like it there? It's not as though he sleeps there as he gets there and can get no further - there is a little basket in the corner of the bedroom for him as he can't jump on to the bed.

Yesterday as I left home I mentioned that I saw a new geocache had gone live not far from work. It was still unfound when I went to bed last night, and I found myself wondering... I checked my phone when I got up - the thing still hadn't had a find logged. So as I scoffed granola I planned my mission. Parking, how to walk from the parking, and with plans made I left home when most people would have still been fast asleep.

As I drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were trying to make light of the fact that the BBC are now seen as Public Enemy #1 following yesterday's revelations about how much they pay their top stars. And those revelations have been further muddied by the fact that apparently only *some* of the fees paid have been disclosed. And it doesn’t help that the poorer pensioners now have to pay for the BBC licence which previously they got for free.

I'm sorry, but this shouldn’t be an issue. All the time the BBC is paid for out of public money they simply cannot pay big bucks for the celebrities. After all it isn't as though they need to. Go to any amateur local theatre group or local radio station. There are dozens of people in every town who would be every bit as good as those that the BBC employ, and would do a better job for a fraction of the price.

Can you *really* justify paying someone twice the Prime Minister's salary for an hour or so a few times a week?

I did think my FTF hopes had been thwarted when the traffic on the motorway came to a standstill. But two minutes after stopping, all the traffic started again for no reason that I could fathom. I followed my sat-nav's instructions and soon I was in a back street in Loose. After a little wander up and down the road I found the footpath I needed. I went sown a rather steep hill and soon found the little film pot I wanted. It had been there since Monday night and no one else had been near. That was a ridiculously long time for a cache not to be found in a very FTF-competitive area such as Kent.

I felt rather pleased with myself as I made my way back to the car. As I walked I posted to the local Facebook geocaching page to gloat.

That was a mistake.

I went into work for the early shift. At tea break my phone beeped. The chap who had hidden that cache that I found this morning was full of sarcasm about how he felt that I'd posted spoilers about his hide by the photograph I'd posted on Facebook. I hadn't, but I deleted what I'd posted to Facebook (just in case).  I also amended the written log I'd made. Rather than a few lines of "copy and paste story”, I changed what I had written to "TFTC". In theory this stands for "thanks for the cache"; in practice it is see as an insult to whoever put the cache out.

This petty trivial little bit of nonsense bothered me far more than it should have done. I then spent much of the rest of the day wondering if I still want to be part of the "Geocaching in Kent" Facebook group. When I first started sticking film pots under rocks that group was a source of help and friendship. People would organise outings and trips and events through the page. I used to run at least one such outing a month (every month for several years) 

But over the last few months that Facebook group has gone really downhill. The friends I’ve made over the years post less and less, and more and more the page is attracting the half-wits and the “special” ones and the keyboard warriors who are out to cause a fight.

Only the other day someone who'd never posted anything there before was being rather nasty to a friend who has contributed so much to the hobby. A few weeks ago I was made to feel heartily sorry that I'd bothered putting out a series of caches round King's Wood - and it was a reviewer (one of the high-ups in geocaching) who had made me feel that way. And then someone appeared from nowhere and claimed that I was deliberately feigning illness rather than repairing broken film pots(?)

It never fails to amaze me how people can get so nasty over such trivial matters. But for some years the "Geocaching in Kent" Facebook group has risen above that sort of thing. Perhaps it will do again? But I’ve decided that (as far as I am concerned) the thing is on its final warning.

I did my bit at work; an early start made for an early finish. I came home, and took the dogs round the park. As we walked we met a few people who wanted to fuss all the dogs. They liked that. And then we met a child who… I can only describe his actions as saying that he had a spazzy fit. On seeing the dogs he started screaming and thrashing his arms and screaming. His mother told me that he didn’t like dogs. I said that my dogs probably didn’t like him either. The child stopped his stupidity immediately; clearly no one had ever spoken to him like that before. I pointed out that the dogs were a good ten yards away from him, and we walked off leaving the mother shrieking at the child for no reason that I could fathom.

We came home. During the day the dogs had had biscuits down for them. They had all ignored the biscuits so I fed the biscuits to the koi. Suddenly all three wanted the biscuits.

"er indoors ^TM" then boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of plonk whilst watching “Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey”.

I’m reliably informed that filming has started on the third “Bill and Ted” film…

2 July 2019 (Tuesday) - Stuff

I went to the loo in the small hours, and when I came out I tripped over Fudge.  I know the way from bed to the loo and don't bear need the light on to walk it... but I rather assume that the dogs will be asleep. Fudge wasn't, and I didn’t see him. I fussed him a bit and he followed me to the stairs. He wanted to go up, and he knows that I will carry him up.

So I did.

I then spent a few minutes rearranging "er indoors ^TM" and the hounds so that I could have some space on the bed, and slept reasonably well for what remained of the night..

Finding there wasn't much milk I made some toast and scoffed it whilst watching an episode of "Good Girls". It's a good show, but today's was spoiled for me somewhat. A character was shot and was bleeding. Supposedly. Have you ever seen blood? Perhaps I see a *lot* more of it than most people, but it isn't bright red. It is a very dark colour. More dark purple or almost black. It certainly isn't cherry red. The chap with a bright red stain on his white shirt looked far more to be the victim of a leaking pen than he did to be the victim of a gunshot wound.

As I left the house I saw a new geocache had gone live not far from work. I say *not far* - it was on the other side of Maidstone from work. Had I left home when I got up I might have chased the First to Find, but the roads would be quite busy enough without trying to drive through central Maidstone at rush hour. Hopefully I'll have the chance of another this month.

As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing the presenter of "Women's Hour". Apparently the BBC have released figures about how much their TV and radio presenters earn. Jane Garvey (the presenter of "Women's Hour") has been pushing for transparency in how much radio presenters earn. She was happy to say that she gets one hundred and twenty-one thousand pounds a year for presenting "Women's Hour" five times every fortnight. And when I say "Women's Hour" you need to bear in mind that fifteen minutes of each show is a radio drama. So she's presenting for forty-five minutes five times a fortnight. Not a bad little earner. I would do that for a quarter of her wages. Perhaps the BBC might consider saving money by employing me.

I got to work and had a rather hellish day. During breaks I finished my latest e-book. “Why Mummy Drinks”  is one of the better books that I have read recently. I didn’t download the sequel – I shall save that. instead I downloaded another sci-fi book which (so far) seems OK.

With work done I came home, and "er indoors ^TM" and I took the dogs round the park. As we walked we met an old friend who was supervising the cubs doing their sponsored walk round the park. I’m feeling far too old to consider being a scout leader again; Di is over twenty years older than me and is still going strong.

"er indoors ^TM" boiled up a rather good bit of scran. We devoured it whilst watching the second “Bridget Jones” film. I rather lost interest after a few minutes…

1 July 2019 (Monday) - There Was Cake

I went to bed feeling like death warmed up last night. But after a good night’s kip I woke feeling rather better.

I got up, and nearly tripped over Fudge who was fast asleep on the landing. When he saw me he started making odd squeaking noises. He does that, and Treacle does too. They really do seem to be speaking. I wish I knew what they meant.

I sat with him for a few minutes then got on with my morning round.

Over brekkie I watched an episode of “Good Girls” in which our heroes are getting deeper and deeper into the mire.

As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing the DJ Paul Gambaccini who (together with Sir Cliff Richard) was launching a campaign to change the law. Both Paul Gambaccini and Sir Clif Richard have had their reputations destroyed by baseless allegations of sex crimes despite no charges ever having been made against either. Both are pushing for a change in the law by which the accused are guaranteed anonymity until such time as formal charges are actually made. Is that *so* unreasonable?

At the moment there is nothing in law to stop all sorts of allegations being broadcast despite there being no evidence for them whatsoever.

There was also an interview with a woman who had recently taken her dying husband to a clinic in Switzerland where he was helped to die with dignity. It is patently obvious that the woman had done the right thing from a moral standpoint, but from a legal standpoint she is risking a prison sentence.

British law, eh? When my number is up, I want my plug pulled long before I become a burden. My grandmother took two years to die; towards the end keeping her alive was an act of cruelty.

I got to work; we had cake. I don’t know who made the cake, or why. But I ate it anyway.

As we worked one of the girls got rather miffed. A patient asked about her children. She replied that she didn’t have any children. The patient was sorry to hear that. My colleague explained that there was no need to be sorry; she had never wanted children. The patient immediately apologised because he didn’t realise she was a lesbian. Apparently the only women who don’t want children are lesbians (!) Apparently this is a well-known fact(!)

And this wasn’t from a bigoted middle-aged man – this was from a little old lady…

As the day wore on I had a flurry of messages asking about the dogs. The Ashford Facebook pages were awash with reports of dogs in our road barking constantly. I was sure it wouldn’t be my dogs; they just sleep during the day. And it wasn’t my dogs. One of those whinging on Facebook gave new-next-door’s address as the source of the noise.

There’s no denying that their dogs bark. But it doesn’t bother me (in much the same way that not-so-nice-next-door’s piano doesn’t bother me). All the time the neighbours are making noise they can’t complain about me.

"er indoors ^TM" popped round to tell them about the Facebook posts. The dog has fallen silent.

Mind you it amazes me that the keyboard warriors post all over social media, but not one will approach anyone who could actually do anything.

"er indoors ^TM" has gone bowling. I wonder what’s on telly…