3 February 2022 (Thursday) - Rostered Day Off

I was woken by both dogs licking me awake at half past eight this morning. Clearly I had been in bed quite long enough for their liking. I came downstairs to something of a shock; “er indoors ^TM” had staged a major tidy-up in the kitchen. How would I find anything with it all tidied up?

I made toast and had a look at my Munzee app. The new Clan War started this morning so I took a crowbar to my Qrate and magnetised both the Skyland at the Tree House effectively getting me the daily goal of three thousand points before I’d even got off of my bum.

I peered into Facebook and it presented me with a video I made at Dover Beer Festival some years ago. Back in the day the first weekend of February was always Dover Beer Festival; one of the highlights of the year. Sadly it isn’t happening this year as the Maison Dieu is having major refurbishments and they can’t find another venue.

Facebook also had a poster from the UK weather forecast people saying not to start garden tidying too early, and to wait until temperatures are constantly over ten degrees so as not to disturb hibernating insects. I had planned to spend some time in the garden today (bad back allowing); I changed my plans.

Seeing how everyone else was playing “Wordle” I had a go at “Sweardle” and “Lewdle” (and failed at both) and then got ready to take the dogs out.

 

Just as I was getting dressed the phone rang. “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” was distraught. She’d had a phone call from the hospital saying that something had been found at her scan yesterday and she should go to the day unit at the hospital as a matter of urgency. I settled the dogs, flew down to Folkestone to collect her then flew back up the motorway and took her to the day unit.

We sat down with everyone else, and soon some busybody woman chased me and all the other friends and family out of the place. Apparently there is a lot of confidential information being bandied about in a hospital and that is not for friends and family of patients to hear. However it is quite acceptable for patients to hear confidential information about other patients (apparently). Would it *really* hurt the medical staff to take patients into a side room to talk to them?

As everyone in the day unit’s business was being announced to everyone else I went to the hospital’s canteen and paid way over the odds for a cup of coffee, and spent a few minutes deploying bastets (it’s a Munzee thing).

Eventually “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” sent me a message. She was ready to go. After a lot of farting about it seemed that yesterday’s scan-ologist had been concerned that the baby is rather small. Well… so is the baby’s mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. No surprises there.

I had to chuckle as we eventually walked out; the blood-taking department is still in the hospital’s main reception area, and there is no confidentiality about who is having a blood test either. Go up and have a look - if you don’t recognise the people sitting waiting to have their blood taken, just stick about and their names will be bellowed out for all to hear. I complained about the blood test area on November 10^th 2021… I see nothing has been done about that. I’ve complained again…I bet nothing will be done again.

 

We came home since “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” was keen to see the dogs. They were very excited to see her; so much so that Pogo went “ham”. Apparently getting incredibly over-excited is known as “going ham” these days. One lives and learns.

We then took the dogs up to Kings Wood for a little wander, and again Pogo “went ham“ when we got out the tennis balls. We had a good walk, albeit a tad muddy. The place has certainly got muddier since last week.

 

With walk walked I took “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” back to Folkestone, then came home and over a lunch of toast watched “Once Upon A Time In London” which could have been a good film had it not dragged on for quite so long.

“er indoors ^TM” came home and it wasn’t long before someone from the kitchen shop came round to measure up the kitchen with a view to stripping it all out and replacing it all. I wasn’t overly interested… and actually fell asleep. I expect I will pay more attention when the quote comes in.

2 February 2022 (Wednesday) - Before The Late Shift

As I scoffed toast my lap-top’s anti-virus thingy told me that it had got its January repot ready. It claimed to have blocked nearly four thousand risky connections in that month. Did it? I have to take its word as I have no way of knowing. I’ve not knowingly gone anywhere near a “risky connection” so I must admit to a degree of scepticism. I wasn’t aware of it blocking anything this morning as I perused Facebook as I scoffed brekkie. Facebook was the same as it ever was. I sent out a birthday wish, then got dressed and (despite the back ache) took the dogs for a short walk.

 

Apart from an unwarranted and utterly unnecessary frenzied shouting at a dog daring to walk past our house (on the other side of the road) the walk passed off rather well. We went up to the co-op field, walked a circuit and came home again with only a minimum of pulling. We didn’t play “ball” as my back was too painful.

Again as we walked round I looked at all the trees that had been planted in the co-op field, presumably as part of the Queen’s Green Canopy initiative? As I said the other day, according to the Woodland Trust trees should be planted about two metes apart. I carry a tape measure, so I unwound it and pushed it over the fence. These ones were about a quarter of that distance apart. Is the expectation that most of them will die? Apparently planting trees like this is the “Miyawaki method”… will it work? We shall see.

It was a shame that as we walked the low sun was tight in my eyes and I walked head-first into a low branch. It hurt a bit, but I don’t think the scar will last for long.

 

Once home I ran (hobbled) round the garden harvesting dog dung, then had a quick game of “Sweardle” before getting changed ready for work and then taking Treacle to the vet.

We got to the vets a few minutes earlier than originally planned so as to have a couple of minutes with the veterinary nurse, as Treacle has been worrying her bottom recently. Having a dog doing what I can only describe as an "arse carousel" on the carpet is something to be avoided wherever possible. We took our place in the waiting room where Treacle immediately started whimpering and trying to get away.  We only had to wait a couple of minutes until the nice nurse came out and took Treacle into the treatment area. Squeezing of the anal glands isn't something that "doggy daddies" are supposed to see. Mind you I say "took Treacle into the treatment area" - she didn't go willingly. once I'd handed the lead to the nurse, she pulled away with all of her might and eventually had to be picked up and carried in.

After two minutes her ordeal was over, and both of us went in to see the vet. Treacle was equally unwilling to see the vet though, and I almost had to pin her in place as the vet gave her the once over, a syringe full of vaccines in the neck and a drop of something up the nose. The vet seemed quite pleased with her, but said she was a tad overweight.

Being told everything was covered on the payment plan we walked out. As we walked out I remembered how much Fudge used to cost us at the vet; I would rarely come out with a bill less than three hundred quid. It was that which caused my melt-down - I don't think anyone saw me blubbing as I hurried Treacle out. You'd think that after all this time I wouldn't still be in tears several times each week about that silly dog, wouldn't you?

 

With dogs settled I set off to work and the late shift. With absolutely nothing worthwhile on the radio I sang along to my MP3s as I stop-started my way through several sets of road works on the way to Pembury. I would have made good time if not for those. I've often said that I like working at Pembury, I *really* dislike going there. the journey can be terrible. But I knew what it would be when I took the job and (in all honesty) I would rather have a two-hour drive to Pembury (and the same back again) every day rather than the five minute drive to where I used to work.

Work was work... I did my bit. I rather confused the new boy with an offer of help. Having assisted him with one or two technicalities I offered to do his tea break for him. I don't think he quite understood...

1 February 2022 (Tuesday) - Oh, My Back Hurts

Many years ago (forty-two) when working as a general dogsbody in the Harbour Restaurant in Hastings' Old Town I once tried to pick up far too many dirty plates (to carry to the dishwasher) and tore something in my back. I compounded the injury on my twenty-eighth birthday by digging my sister-in-law's garden too vigorously, and did further damage to it a few years after that when emptying a heavy tea urn where I used to work. The strangest and silliest things can now play on that poggered back... like when Pogo and Treacle suddenly yanked on their leads yesterday. I spent much of last night's night shift unable to move without serious pain. Had I not just been off work for three weeks I would have phoned in sick, but I really didn't like to do so.

Yesterday I whinged that I didn't want to go to work last night; the night shift wasn't bad really. I shouldn't grumble about the night work. I had yesterday at home. A good morning fiddling about with the dogs, and an afternoon sleeping with the dogs.  And a night shift in which I had clearly been trusted to get on with the job unsupervised; a level of trust I never really achieved from the micro-managing regime where I used to work.

But it was still with something of a sense of relief that I greeted the early shift when he came in.

 

I hobbled out to my car and drove home. As I drove I listened to the morning news on the radio  for the first time in ages. It was much the same as ever. As I headed toward the motorway there were reports that our old friend science  had underestimated the amount of tree species there are on the planet, with nearly ten thousand more species of tree wating to be discovered. I might whinge about my job from time to time, but after the shift I go home. I don’t have to go into the jungle for months at a time trying to tell one tree from another.

The pundits on the radio then wheeled on the deputy prime Minister Dominic Raab who rather embarrassed himself. When questioned about the Prime Minister’s conduct in Parliament yesterday he wasn’t as decisive as he might have been. Having been caught red-handed staging piss-ups in Downing Street the Prime Minister has said that “we got it wrong”. The allegation was made that the use of “we” rather than “I” showed that Mr Johnson was looking to unload blame on someone or other behind the scenes and took no responsibility himself; an allegation that Mr Raab would neither deny nor confirm. And then Mr Raab flatly refused to confirm the Prime Minister’s allegation that the Leader of the Opposition (when he was the director of public prosecutions) was behind a failure to prosecute Jimmy Savile. When questioned, Mr Raab said ““I can’t substantiate that ... I’m certainly not repeating it. I don’t have the facts to justify that.”

 

I can’t help but feel that the Prime Minister will just ride this latest scandal out; he has a proven track record of being a liar and for many people that is all part of his laddish charm. But I hope he will get his come-uppance. Openly having parties with his cronies whilst some of us sat in the hospice waiting room, so far he has kept himself in power because he is clearly less crap than the alternative. And (it has to be said) up till now the Labour party have done their level best to help him in this regard. But up till now the only alternative than which he is less crap has been the opposition. With today’s news talking of former Tory chair Baroness Warsi who attacked the “false and baseless smears” from the Prime Minister saying they “cannot be defended”, and former Chief Whip Julian Smith saying “The smear made against Keir Starmer relating to Jimmy Saville yesterday is wrong and cannot be defended. It should be withdrawn,” it would seem that just possibly he is now fighting a battle on two fronts.

I hope he falls flat on his face.

 

I got home to find “er indoors ^TM” had already gone to work. I went to bed until mid-day, and now have something of a tactic to thwart the dogs. Yesterday afternoon was cold in bed so this morning I took a hot water bottle. The dogs immediately made themselves comfortable on top of it, so that is the plan. Put the hottie-bottie on the other side of the bed to decoy the dogs, then get another one for me. Mind you the tactic only works when they want to sleep. I need another plan to counteract Pogo when he decides it is time to get up and he starts clouting me on the head.

 

I got up to find the postie had been with the latest copy of Viz magazine, and a pin badge I’d won on a competition on Facebook. Some time ago (November 11^th) there was a competition on one of the work-based Facebook groups I follow in which a question had been asked about the intricacies of the Kell blood group system. The world was asked to give an answer, and one of the people giving the correct answer would win a pin badge. Having absolutely no idea what the correct answer was I looked through what everyone else had said and copied the most popular one. Now the pin badge is here I have to say I’m sorry I bothered with the competition.

 

After a quick and thankfully uneventful trip to the co-op field with the dogs I came home. The dogs somehow knew my back was iffy as they were as good as gold. I then had some toast, and as the washing machine did its best with my undercrackers I had a go at the ironing. In retrospect ironing whilst my back spasmed probably wasn’t a good idea. 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner and suggested I tried some ibuprofen. I hope they sort my back out. At the moment I am fine provided I don’t move…