9 November 2026 (Monday) - Busy, Busy

A few days ago (on the day after bonfire night) I mentioned how few fireworks had been going off. Looking at Facebook this morning it would seem they all went up last night. I heard quite a few explosions as I walked to and from the car last night. I didn’t *see* anything; just heard large explosions. Sadly that is fireworks these days. When I was a lad they were pretty things you looked at in the back garden. Then rockets became “the thing” and it was all about pretty light shows in the sky. I didn’t see a single rocket in the sky this year on any of the late shifts I’ve done recently. These days it is all about the loud bang. My dogs don’t seem bothered about them, but a lot of people were whinging about them this morning. Partly because it was a problem, and partly because people like to whinge. If loud explosions are seriously an issue then now is the time to write to councillors and MPs and campaign to ban the loud ones. But will anyone actually do anything? No. Of course they won’t. It’s like the footpath round by Asda which floods every winter. Over the last couple of years I’ve written to the MP and the local councillors, but no one else has done anything.

 

I Munzed, then Wordled from “night” to “loamy” in five goes. “Loamy”? Seriously?

I took the dogs up to the woods which are really autumnal now. We found one of those painted rocks… I’ll move it on. We walked our usual circuit. The dogs chased shadows and missed squirrels and deer. Treacle went through a swamp, and we had an “episode”. Some idiot woman came up the path with two dogs. I say “dogs”; I really have seen smaller horses. Whilst the woman shrieked at me that her dogs were friendly they both set about chasing my three, and as Bailey screamed in terror the woman got rather aggressive and ranted that a Jack Russell has a more dangerous bite than either of her two. Before I could say anything she hysterically screamed that I should “get a life” and stormed off leaving her largest dog facing us in what I can only describe as a confrontational way.

What do you do when this sort of thing happens? I had a not dissimilar episode six years ago when a passing looney attacked Pogo, hysterically ranted at me, and (somehow or other) I was the one who had the police coming round.

 

We came home. I made us both a cuppa then had a pootle in the garden. I looked at the lawn and decided against mowing it. There’s probably all sorts of bugs and things starting hibernation and don’t need to be disturbed. The grass people say that you should leave it after late October, and who am I to argue with them?

So instead I harvested a frankly epic crop of dog turds. Never a pleasant job, but certainly much easier now that Treacle has gone back to “solid” from “liquid”. I pruned my Cornus alba and buddleia… well, not so much pruned as “hacked back”. They both seemed to benefit from being pruned last winter.

Whilst I was at it I pruned my own head. That pair of hair trimmers has certainly proved to be a saving.

 

I came inside; it was cold in the garden. Being Monday I cleaned out the fish tank filter and siphoned up the gunge off of the bottom of the tank. Not that there was much, but I’ve set a reminder on my Google calendar that Monday is “clean the fish tank” day. That little fish tank is looking far better than it used to. Live plants, live snails and cleaning out the filter weekly has made a serious difference.

I wrote up a little CPD (as I do), then cracked on with ironing shirts. As I ironed I watched a couple of episodes of “The Doll” on Netflix.

 

I had a little kip. “er indoors ^TM” boiled up dinner then went bowling. I tumble-dried undercrackers (never a dull moment) whilst watching more Netflix.

 

I’m worn out… I’ve got another late shift tomorrow.

Meanwhile research has shown that Daves are the best at doing DIY… 

8 November 2026 (Sunday) - Phone Games, Late Shift

I slept through until after nine o’clock this morning. I got up, made toast and had a look at the Internet. Nothing much had changed overnight. Or had it? My Facebook feed needs looking at. Take this morning for example I got endless adverts from Temu trying to sell me mis-advertised crap (which I then report as fraud). I saw loads of gibberish about why atheism is silly and why the Earth is flat from feeble-minded simpletons who sadly don’t realise just how stupid they are. I was told about who was having a birthday today, and (with over seven hundred Facebook friends) I had updates from three of them. One’s cat had a birthday, one had been to a card fair, and one was saying how foggy it was.
Surely others had done something yesterday?
 
Sadly I’d left it a tad late to get the dogs to the woods, so I piddled about on my lap-top. I wrote a reference for one of my ex-trainees. He’s asked me for help as I’ve known him for years and because I’ve experience of what he’s facing; being up before the professional regulator (it ain’t nice!). The chap’s been accused of taking drugs in the workplace, of making racial slurs and of putting broken glass in other people’s lab coats. Did he do it? I can’t say that he didn’t because I don’t have absolute proof that he didn’t. All I can do is write a letter to the adjudicating committee saying that I would find that very unlikely and out of character. Will it help him? Somehow I doubt it. But that’s our legal system, isn’t it? Our regulator operates on the legal principle of “balance of probabilities” in which a panel will decide that a fact is proved if they think the incident is more likely than not to have occurred. Someone makes allegations and someone else decides who to believe. It’s a long-established principle of law and has been used for years. Sadly it’s not a foolproof system; obviously those making the decisions are far more likely to listen to people with official standing and rich lawyers. It’s how small children are taken away from their mothers. Not that I’m bitter…
 
I looked at the Dog Club money… it’s a bit of a shambles. Bearing in mid we ask for two quid per dog, how can we end up with an odd fifty pence in the pot? And how can people put on the register that they are paying by cash when I’ve already taken the pot home?
 
I Munzed. I Wordled from “taken” to “first” in three goes. I Meowdoku-ed. I’m now in the Bronze League (whatever that means), got dressed and set off to work.in a bit of a sulk This is now the fifteenth weekend that I had worked out of the last twenty. I don’t really mind going in at the weekends, especially on a day like today when we needed extra help. But having arranged to see family this weekend (what with people travelling miles for a get-together) I had a bit of sulk. I had hoped to see a gaggle of aunts today.
 
I got to work, I did my bit. As I worked so my phone beeped. Out Munzee guild had reached the first of our monthly targets. Result (!) Work was rather better than it might have been what with the new computer.
And with my bit done I came home again. There was fog forecast, but it was nothing like as bad as the fog had been on Friday night.
 
“er indoors ^TM” had boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching Mr. Bean on the telly. What with the scaffolding blocking the satellite signal we’re restricted to the apps on the telly itself. But there’s still far more choice than we can cope with.
Mind you, have you watched Mr. Bean recently. Whilst it is still hilarious, it’s rather dated.
Bit like me, really…

7 November 2026 (Saturday) - Hastings

As I said yesterday, on last night’s late shift we had a red alert at five to going home time. You don’t just walk out on time when that happens. When I finally did walk out (as I said yesterday) I then drove home slowly through thick fog. I scoffed dinner shortly after eleven o’clock last night and went to bed just after midnight.

I woke full of energy and raring to go at two o’clock, and then lay awake for the rest of the night. I tried to get back to sleep, but it wasn’t happening. I did doze a little, but not much. I gave up and got up at six o’clock.

 

I made toast and had a little look at the Internet. Back in the day I would read the newspaper… the Internet is much more poorly written and (these days) has far fewer tits, but on reflection is much more interesting *because* it is much more poorly written. Take for example the government’s planned hundred pounds bung to help poorer people pay their energy bills. The thick element really were surprised to find that the left wingers were for it and the right wingers were against it. Or the post on one of the local Facebook pages from some half-wit asking for recommendations of a supplier of illegal fire-sticks for avoiding paying for satellite or Cable TV providers. And the Pope was recommending universal health care for all. So much for prayer, eh?

Mind you there’s no denying that a few more tits wouldn’t go amiss.

I Munzed, Wordled from “alert” to “prate” in four goes. “Prate” – I got it as a guess as I has the last four letters. I had to look it up.

 

“er indoors ^TM” and the dogs got up and went into the garden to do what they do (well, the dogs did). Treacle’s “doings” are getting back to how they should be. One of the less savoury aspects of dog-herding is that you develop an unholy fascination with the quality of dog dung.

 

Steve was on the radio this morning. The “Guess the Lyrics” competition was “Mothers got her hair do to be done”. It seemed vaguely familiar… it was the Pet Shop Boys – “In Suburbia”. I gloated - “er indoors ^TM” is a big fan of the Pet Shop Boys but she couldn’t work out which song it was.

We got ourselves organized and drove round to Dog Club. And then drove back home again as I’d forgotten the key to the paddock.

 

We had a good session at Dog Club. Attendance was down – I blame the cold foggy morning, but the dozen dogs that were along had a great time charging about, playing and enjoying treats..

As we drove home Steve was doing the Mystery Year on the radio. Godley and Creme singing “Under your Thumb” and the King got married for the first time. I can remember the King getting married; I was working at the Harbour Restaurant at the time which would have put it in 1980 or 1981. I said 1980… I should have said the other year.

We came home via the co-op where we got Belgian buns, and scoffed the with a cuppa once we got home.

 

Leaving “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs at home I went up the road and got a train to Hastings. I had a little wander round the town. It has changed beyond all recognition since I was last there. Pretty much all of the shops have gone; the only shops left are those selling that which you can’t have delivered by Amazon.  And most (almost all) of the pubs have gone too.

I walked a circuitous walk to my brother’s house, and after a cuppa we went down to the Wetherspoon’s. Our cousin joined us and we had a couple of drinkies there, and some more in the old town. Back in the day Hastings town centre was where it all happened and the old town was dead. How things have changed.

It would have been good to have stayed on, but I didn’t want to chance missing the last train, so I said my goodbyes and came home…

 

I’ve got to work tomorrow…

6 November 2026 (Friday) - Late Shift

I slept well, but woke to find myself almost hanging off the edge of the bed. An alliance of dogs had spread out on my side of the bed all but pushing me out. The obvious answer is to stop them coming on the bed… but it’s a bit too late for that.

I made toast and had a look at the Internet. There were some interesting posts from friends in Sussex who’d been to the bonfire parade in Lewes where a huge effigy of Nigel Farage had been burned. Again.

Some chap was complaining on the local Facebook pages about how there were no organised firework displays planned for this evening. In his post he wrote “the people should have gotten together”. Like absolutely everyone else, this chap felt that someone else should do everything whilst he did nothing himself. It was somewhat ironic that the chap’s Facebook profile listed his job as “lazy git”.

And moving away from fireworks there was consternation about the leader of the opposition who was ranting about why there are so many immigrant workers in the NHS. Back in the day I was a manager in the NHS. For many years my department didn't get a single application for any job from anyone living in the NHS. What does she suggest? Conscription? It’s rather rich of her to say this bearing in mind her own father was an immigrant doctor. Amazingly Reform UK’s ex-chairman is much the same, being the son of immigrant NHS workers. It’s rather amazing that both are now playing the anti-immigration card. I suppose that, like most politicians, they will say shit is sugar to pander to their prospective voters.

 

I took the dogs out. Treacle came running to the front door at leads-on time which was a result. We went to Orlestone where the rather strange chap was again just sitting in his car. Perhaps he has mobility issues but wants to go to the woods? Perhaps I’m being mean? But it just strikes me as odd that he’s always just sitting there.

We had a rather shorter walk this morning. Time was against us, and Treacle’s not long out of Dog Hospital; I can remember Fudge coming out of Dog Hospital and immediately trying to overdo it. Treacle will take it easy… whether she likes it or not.

The woods were muddy, but not *that* bad compared to how Orlestone can be. Treacle didn’t need a bath when we got home, but the littluns had rolled in mud (Morgan) and fox poo (Bailey).

They got scrubbed.

 

I made us both a cuppa and had a look on-line. Earlier when I’d Munzed I saw that the Widdlz Workshop I’d bought last night still wasn’t in my inventory so I’d emailed Munzee HQ. They still hadn’t replied.

I Wordled. Starting with “aches” I got to “dreck”. “Dreck”? Seriously? I got it as it was the only thing that fitted with the letters I had and the letters I’d excluded. Is it actually a word? Apparently so.

 

I set off west-wards to work listening to Harry Potter audiobook as I went. Having had a frankly disastrous day on Wednesday, today was far better… right up to five to going home time when we suddenly had a red alert. Oh well, I needed to see how the new computer would handle a red alert, and I think it does so better than the old one did.

 

Coming home was fun – thirty miles of thick fog…

5 November 2026 (Thursday) - Treacle's On The Mend

I slept well… until I went to the loo in the small hours and then couldn’t get warm again when I went back to bed. I lay dozing (but with cold feet) and finally got up at seven o’clock.

I did my usual scoffing toast whilst peering into the Internet. Bearing in mind the date a cousin had posted to Facebook about “Penny For The Guy”. Back in the day we’d make a “guy” – an effigy made out of old clothes and stuffed with newspapers with a football for a head. We’d plonk it out in the street and sit with it, demanding money from passers-by. It used to be quite lucrative. Kids don’t do that anymore. Such a shame.

There were several postings to work-related Facebook pages from people claiming to be medical professionals who were proudly showing their ignorance. In the past I’d argue with them. Can’t be bothered these days.

There wasn’t a lot else going on on-line so I Munzed, Wordled from “plonk” to “parch” in three goes, then took Bailey and Morgan to the woods. Treacle stayed behind as “er indoors ^TM” was taking her to the vet.

 

As we drove so the pundits on the radio were talking about how many NHS services are now funded by charities. It was claimed that the postcode lottery of healthcare is getting to be far worse in that more public-spirited neighbourhoods will have far better healthcare than others.

Haven’t I ranted about this (many times) before?

 

We got to the woods; we did our usual circuit. We didn’t see any deer. I blame all the noise. When not brandishing chainsaws the forestry workers were bellowing at each other. The foragers were making enough noise to raise the dead, and all the other dog walkers felt the need to scream at their dogs. We only came within a hundred yards of one other person, but we heard loads of other people.

I go to the woods for a bit of peace and quiet…

 

We came home listening to more Harry Potter audiobook. Treacle was waiting for us and was showing off her new toy. She’d picked it up on the way out of the vet (walking through Pets At Home) and so she got it as a pressie. Whilst at the vet she’d had the cannula out and was officially discharged from Dog Hospital. The official diagnosis was that “it was something she ate”… There was a particularly disgusting puddle in Kingsnorth from which she drank on Sunday. And there had been reports of cats in a neighbouring road having been deliberately poisoned. Which was it? We’ll never know. I’d like to think no one is deliberately poisoning animals.

Bailey had a quick once-over with the shower as she’d rolled in filth whilst we’d been out, and then I made us both a cuppa. Treacle then barked at a passer-by which I saw as a good sign.

 

I then had a little think. I try not to mention work on here. I once got a formal disciplinary where I used to work by saying on Facebook that I was tired after a night shift.

I do like my job, but just reading this diary shows how many weekends I’ve worked. By the time I’ve finished a late shift I don’t get home till after ten o’clock as a round trip is sixty miles. And for all that I actually enjoy the night work, I’m too old for it. And I’m spending two hundred quid a month on petrol. I knew all this would be the case when I took on the job, but ten years have passed. Now I’m over sixty, semi-retired and generally knackered… I wonder if it is time for a change?

I couldn’t find my old CV so I went on LinkedIn to get my career history from it. I had a little look on Google at writing a C.V. for the older candidate. It suggested being active on social media… Sadly that meant boring dull stuff, not photos of beer and dogs on Facebook. So I made a post on LinkedIn.

And then I had a stroke of genius. Rather than farting about writing myself a C.V. I had a word with my mate Microsoft CoPilot, and we had a little collaboration. You can see what we came up with by clicking here.

I’d be grateful for any comments or suggestions on it… and also for any comments or suggestions about what I might do as a different job. I’m up for absolutely anything… but not nights, late evenings or weekends.

I suspect I will still be doing blood tests up until I get nailed into my coffin, but it never hurts to see what the alternatives are.

 

We had a cheese roll for lunch then I had a little pootle in the garden. Before I did, I stuck my head into the kitchen and announced that I was going to “FEED THE FISH”. Treacle flew down the garden squealing in excitement, and scoffed fish food. She’s on the mend.

I was thinking about mowing the lawn, but it was too cold. Instead I wrote up some CPD; if I jack it all in and go do something else I won’t have to do CPD anymore… that in itself is worth considering.

I looked at some geo-puzzles. I think it’s fair to say that if I don’t get some hints from next week’s Puzzle Club, all of the remaining geo-puzzles in Kent will be going on the “ignore” list. Instead of those ones I looked at some in Sussex… and solved one or two.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of Merlot whilst watching more “Lego Masters: New Zealand”. And with dinner scoffed Treacle made it quite clear that she expected some cheesy biscuits. She’s got used to our having those when we have a bottle of plonk. So I got us some. Not that many, but it was good to see her eating.

 

Tonight is bonfire night… I’ve not heard many fireworks.

4 November 2026 (Wednesday) - Early Shift, Dog Hospital

The anti-emetic worked in that Treacle had a good night’s sleep. I suppose I did; I slept through till half past four. I tried to get back to sleep, but that wasn’t happening.

I got up, made toast and watched another episode of “Minimum Wage” which wasn’t bad but now I’ve seen two episodes I find myself thinking it is a complete rip-off of “Superstore”. I suppose that if the formula worked once, why not try it again?

 

I had my usual look at the Internet. This morning my Facebook feed was crawling with adverts from insurance companies. I’d renewed the household insurance yesterday so these adverts were all a day too late. This is the trouble with “targeted advertising”. By the time the search engines figure out what you are looking for, you’ve already bought it. It’s very good for seeing what you should have bought, but not much help in actually getting it in the first place.

Three months ago I was ranting about how many pubs are closing and mentioned that the Halfway House in Challock was to re-open. The place did re-open… and would seem to have closed down again. It lasted three months. The news had appeared on several local Facebook pages this morning. There was quite a bit of bitterness from many who felt that the place’s failure was entirely the fault of the locals who weren’t spending enough money in the place. That struck me as a rather unfair position to take; why should anyone be responsible for the success or failure of someone else’s business just because that business is just down the road from them? Am I under an obligation to spend my hard-earned money feathering someone else’s nest just because they’ve built that nest nearby? Surely it’s up to a pub (or any business) to drum up its own trade?

There’s two very good pubs within a five-minute drive of the Halfway House which we’ve visited a few times (The Red Lion in Badlesmere and the Coach and Horses at Longbeech North). Going into competition with those two was a tad silly, wasn’t it?

 

I got ready for work and again set off west-wards through the -hursts and the -dens. As I drove I listened to the pundits on the radio who were talking about how the American electorate has handed Donald Trump’s arse to him on a plate. He’d apparently told everyone to vote Republican as if it was his name on the ballot paper, and the considered opinion was that was just what the electorate had done.

However bearing in mind how he carries on, if he just declares the election null and void I doubt there’s anyone with the balls to stand up to him.

Closer to home the EU and the UK have announced a deal to scrap red tape introduced by Brexit. There were interviews with people based in the UK who sold seed potatoes and others who sell shellfish. Both said that it was easier to export to the Far East that it was to export to Europe. Both said it was because of Brexit, and both said that we didn’t get the Brexit that had been promised. I can’t help but think that it is ten years too late to start raking up that squabble, but what do I know?

 

I stopped off at Tesco again to get lunch. Again those putting the sandwiches out had a serious attitude.

I went in for the early shift and the second day of the new computer… I try not to mention work on here but I’ll just say that it wasn’t the best of days.

 

Even though I was on the early shift I had to turn on the headlights after twenty minutes on the drive home, and it was completely dark by the time I got home.

“er indoors ^TM” went and collected Treacle this evening. She’d spent the day in Dog Hospital where she’d had IV fluids and her belly shaved for an ultrasound (Treacle that is, not “er indoors ^TM”). She ate some food whilst there, and once home she ate quite a bit of dinner. If she carries on this way and has a good night she can have the cannula taken out in the morning. She's had a dump that wasn't blood red (Treacle that is, not “er indoors ^TM”) so that's a step in right direction.

Here’s hoping.

Having spent over one thousand six hundred quid on vet bills in the last two days we could do without another day in Dog Hospital. I suspect Treacle feels the same, but for different reasons.

3 November 2026 (Tuesday) - Poorly Pup, Poorly Me

I woke at half past three to the sound of distant barking. It was Treacle at the back door frantic to get out. But she held it until I opened the door for her; other dogs (Morgan) would have just dropped it in the bathroom.

I went back to bed and dozed on and off for a couple more hours and come downstairs to find “er indoors ^TM” on the sofa. She’d let Treacle out half a dozen more times.

 

They went back to bed. I made toast and turned on the telly. I watched the first episode of “Minimum Wage”. I think I probably need to watch more than one episode before dismissing it entirely.

I had a quick look at the Internet. It was still there. Not much of note had kicked off overnight, so I got dressed and was just about to set off to work when Treacle came downstairs at quarter to seven and blew (rather impressively) across the kitchen floor. I thought there was some blood in it…

 

I walked through the rain to find my car. Radio Four’s weather forecast had commented how the south of the country was having a clear morning. I’d love to be a professional weather forecaster; people have such low expectations of them, No one really expects them to get it even remotely right.

I drove off west-wards through the -hursts and the -dens; today with no annoying warning light on the car’s dashboard. As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about “mogging”. Meaning to outperform or outshine someone or something, this has been named as Collins Dictionary’s word of the year 2026. No? – I’d never heard of it either.

There was also a few interviewers with various Americans from Maine. Traditionally a Republican stronghold, the locals are getting a tad pissed off with the antics of Donald Trump. However they are equally unimpressed with the Democrat offering, and most people were saying that today’s mid-term elections were all about choosing the least worst option. Much the same on the other side of the Atlantic as it is over here, eh?

I stopped off at Tesco where the shelf fillers were filling the fridges with sandwiches. They made no secret that they were working and that I was in their way. Some people have no idea about customer service, do they?

 

I got to work and had a full-on day. Today saw the launch of our new IT system, and (like pretty much everything) whether it went good or bad was entirely down to the individual’s personal attitude. I thought the thing went well; others bent over backwards to find fault. But either way we had cake.

As I worked I had messages from home. Treacle had again squittered impressively; this time it was pretty much all blood with squit in it. She went to the vets who did a load of blood tests which were rather inconclusive. She’s had an anti-emetic injection this evening and has got a load of special food and drink and medicine. If she doesn’t take any of those, she’s got another appointment with the vet tomorrow for a day in Dog Hospital on intravenous fluids and having an ultrasound.

 

It was rather late by the time we’d finished messing about this evening so “er indoors ^TM” popped up to the KFC to get dinner. We scoffed it whilst watching “Bake Off” which was rather entertaining. We also got a piece of KFC for Treacle… she wasn’t interested.

Meanwhile my toe (the one I dropped the sundial on yesterday) has gone a rather impressive colour.