18 March 2026 (Wednesday) - This N That

I didn’t have the best of nights. The dogs were fidgety and restless and with an alarm set I spent much of the night looking at the clock as I so often do.

I made toast and had a look at the telly. I started watching a new thing on Netflix – a documentary about dinosaurs. It was rather good, but… many years ago when I kept snakes I read up a lot on reptiles and it would seem that much of what we know about dinosaurs is really best guesses based on fossiled bones. But it was a good TV show.

I then had my usual rummage round the Internet. As well as people proudly showing off their ignorance about meningitis on Facebook there were quite a few people talking about St Patrick’s Day yesterday. As happens every year no end of people who’ve never been any closer to the Emerald Isle than the M25 were claiming Irish heritage and professing a love of Guinness. Guinness boils my piss. It’s not a bad pint, but when you look at just how many dark beers are readily available in supermarkets, it’s probably at the bottom of the range for quality. As I’ve said before (endlessly!) Guinness is a triumph of marketing.

It would seem I missed a geo-meet-up in Frittenden last night. Whenever I stage a geocaching meet I make a point of contacting all the hunters of Tupperware within a twenty-mile radius to let them know and I usually get a decent turn out.  Many other people make the effort to put on a meet but don’t tell anyone… and no one knows there is a get-together happening. Ho hum…

 

As I drove to work I listened to the pundits on the radio spouting their morning nonsense. The Scottish Parliament has thrown out the assisted dying bill. Apparently the whole idea of letting terminally ill people choose to pull their own plug is fraught with problems in that people might feel pressured to pull their own plugs and it would be better to force people to carry on suffering instead.

Can't see it myself. 

And there was an interview with some businesswoman about how there's a new boss at the Disney corporation. When asked about how this new bloke would affect the company this woman (in between her hesitation) effectively spoke in a foreign language. She really did say "erm... meaningless catch-phrase... er... management buzz-word... erm... more meaningless catch-phrases... um..." and ended by saying that it was all sixty-forty.

Why do they have these people on the radio?

 

As I drove I popped in to the co-op to get a sandwich.  I'd not had much luck on Monday but I wondered if they had just been left with the dregs from the weekend and they might have been re-stocked by the middle of the week... I got there to find a woman in co-op uniform standing on a step fiddling about inside the fridge. They had some sandwiches, but none of the snacks that make up the meal deal. I asked the woman in the co-op uniform if they had any. She apologised and said that she didn't work there; she was only doing a stock-take(!)

I then had a stroke of genius - Waitrose would only be a short diversion as I drove past Repton... I got there to find the place didn't open for another hour.

I tried the works branch of M&S. A rather manky sandwich and a rather empty bag of crisps (and a bottle of water) were up for sale at over two quid more than Sainsburys were knocking out (rather better) meal deals. 

I got something from the hospital's league of friends shop. I shall go back to Sainsburys next time.

 

Being on flexible extra hours to help out today I got to escape earlier than I might usually have done. I came home, and seeing a rather lovely afternoon I took the dogs out. It was perhaps a tad late for four miles round Kings Wood so we had two miles round Orlestone instead.

We got to the car park to find only one space free. I’ve never seen the place so busy. As we walked into the woods so some chap came the other way with binoculars and a seriously impressive zoom lens on his camera. He announced that I must be one of the locals who goes to the woods all the time, and he apologized. Apparently there have been several sightings of the large tortoiseshell butterfly in Orlestone over the last week or so. These things grow to three inches across; supposedly extinct in the UK, it isn’t extinct any more, and people have travelled across the country to see them. I didn’t see any myself, but my new-found friend had seen some and was only too happy to share his photograph. And I was only too happy to take the credit.

In between exchanging pleasantries with several other butterfly-spotters we had an episode…

 

Some idiot woman came past on a pedal bike with two large dogs in tow. One of them chased Bailey who sprinted off into the woods screaming in terror (like she does). The idiot woman started laughing but before I could react, Morgan flew off in pursuit. About two seconds later so idiot woman’s dog came sprinting back with Morgan in hot pursuit and with a clump of idiot woman’s dog’s fur in his mouth. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t feel that I needed to, but in all honesty I don’t think that idiot woman had noticed anything..

I whistled to my dogs, and we walked off leaving her and her dogs behind.

 

I had hoped we wouldn’t have needed a bath when we got home, but (as she always does) Treacle had wallowed in a swamp in the way back to the car.

With bellies and paws washed we did “FEED THE FISH” and I made us both a cuppa with a lump of coffee and walnut cake. I then asked ChatGPT to make a picture of Mickey Mouse chairing a business meeting which I was planning on using for today’s blog photo, but after a few seconds it told me “We’re so sorry, but the image we created may violate our guardrails concerning similarity to third-party content”. I suppose it is right… I suppose Mickey Mouse is copyrighted by the Disney corporation. So I tried to get the picture above. I got it to make a picture on the fourth attempt – it kept giving me the reply “We’re so sorry, but the prompt may violate our content policies”. I’d given it a picture of Bailey and had asked for a picture of her chasing a butterfly whilst being chased by a big scary dog herself. Eventually I think I found that the problem was that ChatGPT doesn’t like the word “scary”.

In the week or so that I’ve been playing with ChatGPT I must admit I’m rather impressed with the thing.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up sausages and chips which we scoffed whilst watching The Great Pottery Throw Down… I’ve not messed about with clay since primary school. I wouldn’t mind having another go…

17 March 2026 (Tuesday) - Three Years Later...

Being wide awake far too early I watched the last episode of “Pride and Prejudice” and found myself thinking. In much of the show getting a letter was a big thing. Sending a letter was the only way of communicating over any distance. You would take an age composing a letter, the thing would then be sent and take a couple of days to get where it was intended to go, and you wouldn’t expect a reply for a week at best. It is so easy to take today’s instant communication for granted.

 

And talking of instant communication I sparked up the lap-top. Back in the day I used to have a newspaper instead which would give me a snapshot of the state of the world as it had been late the day before. These days the Internet allows instant updates and the ability to comment and reply… and we just use this to argue and squabble,

This morning’s squabbles were rather embarrassing. There’s been an outbreak of meningitis locally, and so many people were posting about it on local Facebook groups seemingly only to demonstrate their ignorance. Just because one of the victims was of school age doesn’t mean that schools give you meningitis. Just because people with meningitis are in hospital doesn’t mean that you can contract meningitis by being in the hospital’s general vicinity.

Vaccinations do *not* cause autism…

It bothers me that not only are so many people so thick, they also clearly take great pride in showing it.

 

As I drove to work so the pundits on the radio were again talking about the war in the Middle East. They were interviewing the head honcho of Hays Travel. Can you believe that holiday bookings for destinations in the Middle East are seriously down? The obvious question would be who would be so dumb as to book a holiday in a war zone, but it would seem that quite a few people have done so, and quite a few aren’t cancelling their arrangements.

And Donald Trump has got the arse. Having slapped financial tariffs on all of his allies and then having been incredibly rude about them in public, he’s now acting surprised when no one wants to help to put him out of the hole he’s dug for himself.

 

I popped in to Sainsburys for a sandwich then went on to work for another day fighting with the new computer. I say “fighting”; I made rather good progress with it. Today I was testing out the instruction manual to see if there’s any areas where the instructions might be bettered. I found a couple.

And then I came home.

 

I did have a plan to take the dogs out, but “er indoors ^TM” had taken them round the block earlier. And I’d had to park a ridiculously long way away from the house. Instead we did “FEED THE FISH”.

I had a little doze, and then I had a message. Apparently my mum and dad’s old house is up for sale. Looking at the photos, the chap we sold it to has done a load of work on it including replacing all the windows and putting in patio doors, a new kitchen and bathroom, and decorating throughout… with that in mind , looking at the asking price and comparing that to what we sold it for, the chap who bought if off us hasn’t made quite the profit you might think he might have made. 

16 March 2026 (Monday) - New Computer, Dead Squirrel

I was up far too early this morning. I stood on the scales… my weight is slowly creeping up again. Back to calorie counting I suppose.

I made toast and coffee and watched another episode of “Pride and Prejudice” in which Miss Elizabeth Bennett commented “The more I see of the world the more I am dissatisfied with it”. She’s probably got a point.

I then had a quick look at the Internet. It was still there. There were one or two things posted from friends and one or two snippets from groups and pages I follow, but more and more I find my Facebook feed to be filled with adverts about stuff in which I have absolutely no interest whatsoever.

I had a quick Munz, then got ready for work.

 

I drove round to the co-op to get a sandwich. Their meal deal is twenty pence cheaper than Sainsbury's, but the selection is rather poorer. I shall go to Sainsbury's next time.

As I drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were interviewing a retired general about he situation in the Middle East. Apparently President Trump is demanding that his NATO allies should get involved in the war he's started, and is threatening dire consequences for anyone who doesn't help him out. The general being interviewed seemed to be of the opinion that he would be surprised if anyone would help Trump out. NATO is supposed to be all about mutual defence; not jumping in to help so-called allies who've unilaterally picked a fight of their own making and found that they've bitten off more than they can chew.

And there was talk about oil theft... with the price of oil going through the roof it would seem that anyone who heats their house using oil is at risk of having organised gangs turning up and nicking the stuff.

 

I got to work. I wasn't supposed to be in today, but I'd offered to do extra hours this morning to help out testing the new computer system that we are getting in a few months' time. It didn't help that the chap who was going to show me what was what with the new system was off sick, so. I had a Teams session with one of the IT people from Dartford instead. I’ve got to grips with how the system works. Sort of. I’m having another go tomorrow.

 

I came home and took the dogs to the woods. We got to the car park at Kings Wood just before two o’clock to find there wasn’t any other cars in the car park.

We walked for just over four miles according to my phone. According to my watch it was just under five miles. Treacle found a dead squirrel in the first hundred yards and carried it the whole way. Bailey found some fox poo, and I went base over apex in the mud. No harm done, but I need to be a tad more careful. It won’t be that long before I will be too old to have falls.

Today’s route took us past a geocache of mine that two people had reported that they couldn’t find. I found it - the cache was clearly there…

 

We came home. Mud was washed from bellies, fox poo was washed from backs. We fed the fish, and I then made a cuppa for “er indoors ^TM” and me, and did us a slice of coffee and walnut cake each too. I put a load of washing in to scrub and had a little doze, then “er indoors ^TM” went bowling and I watched more “Pride and Prejudice” in which Mr Wickham meddled with tradesmen’s daughters.

 

I’m quite worn out…

15 March 2026 (Sunday) - Geo-Meet, Maidstone, Telly

I slept well, but woke just before seven o’clock with something of a guts ache. I lay there wondering if it was only a fart… I decided to take no chances and got up.

I made toast and had a look at the Internet as I do. It was much the same as it ever is.

 

Taking care not to disturb anyone I got dressed and once I’d scraped the ice off the car I drove up to Maidstone. There was a breakfast geo-meet today, and there are some geo-puzzles in the area which involve finding where a particular photos was taken. I thought I might have a little walk solving those puzzles before the meet.

As I drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing some Christians who live in a war zone somewhere or other. Rather than seeing the senseless violence and massacre as being tragic, these crackpots somehow thought it all evidence of their god’s love. How on Earth did that work?

I almost fell at the first hurdle when I got to Maidstone. The car park I found wasn’t a RingGo one. It was Apcoa which meant downloading and setting up their app. Back in the day you could just put some money into the machine. Nowadays everything has its own individual app, and you have to waste fifteen minutes setting up something you will never use again. I’ve seen RingGo everywhere; I’ve never seen Apcoa anywhere.

 

With car eventually parked I went for a little wander. I found three of the locations I was seeking and got the information I needed. Three eluded me though. I still need to find a ruined church, “the year of the bird” (?)  and a church with a square belfry with an odd turret on one side.

Feeling a bit peckish I thought I might go to where we were having the geo-meet and have brekkie before everyone else arrived. We were meeting in the local Wetherspoons…

Wetherspoons aren’t bad in that they are cheap and cheerful and you know what you are getting… Well… let me rephrase that.

Wetherspoons are bad.

OK, they are cheap (if far from cheerful), and you know what you are getting… You are getting ignored by the surly and disinterested schoolchildren who work there, and eventually you will get rather substandard food not so much served up by them as slapped down in front of you by them. It’s a sad look-out when they can’t fry an egg, isn’t it.

 

With a very poor massively over-priced brekkie scoffed everyone else arrived, and we had a rather good half an hour chatting. It seemed I missed a rather good walk round London on Friday…but with my mates having walked forty-five thousand steps I’m rather glad I hadn’t joined them.

It would have been good to have stayed longer, but I had to get home.

 

As I drove home,  heart surgeon Stephen Westaby was on Desert Island Discs. He was surprisingly interesting. Apparently he was a very quiet and shy chap until he sustained a serious head injury after which he was very loud and outgoing. Makes you think, doesn’t it?

He made a very interesting point about the surgical league tables that the government is so keen on. He doesn’t do that well on those league tables… because he’s doing open heart surgery on patients who are critically ill. Comparing him with someone who specialises in ingrowing toenails is hardly fair, is it?

 

I got home and “er indoors ^TM” went out to a Mother’s Day bash with “My Boy ^TM” and his tribe. I took the dogs out. Bearing in mind how many normal people had been swarming round Scadbury Park yesterday I decided against Kings Wood today. Instead we walked round the block. One of my Wherigos had a “did not find” reported last week. We walked round to it and saw it was where it was supposed to be.

 

We came home, and once I’d been round the garden with a bucket gathering turds I got the lawn mower out. After two minutes I turned the lawn mower off and went and got the turd bucket again. I started mowing; I went and got the turd bucket again. You’d be amazed at how much dung three small dogs can generate.

 

I made myself a cuppa, then had a look at the clues I’d gathered whilst walking round Maidstone earlier. I came up with some locations which look sensible on Google street view… 

I Munzed, then Wordled. “Music” gave me nothing, but amazingly “trade” gave me four correct letters in the correct places, and so with only one possibility I got it on the third attempt with “grade”.

I then settled underneath a pile of dogs and watched a couple of episodes of “Pride and Prejudice” until five past three. That was when ChatGPT said that I could again ask it to make some pictures. I got it to make more dog pictures. I’ve made quite a few of these… I wonder when the novelty will wear off.

 

“er indoors ^TM” came home with left-over dinner meat for the dogs and a chocolate éclair for me. Result all round. She sorted a pizza for tea and we watched more of the TV show about Jon Richardson helping to restore a derelict pub in Yorkshire.

For all that there’s a massive fundraising campaign to do the place up, and loads of people volunteering to help, I can’t help wonder why the place closed. The answer has to be something I’m forever ranting about…

Out of interest I’ve done some sums…

The village where Jon Richardson’s pub is in has (about) one hundred and sixty-six residents.

Last year (2025) the average UK pub (that didn’t go bust) had a turnover of ten thousand pounds per week.

So either everyone in the village needs to spend sixty quid a week in the pub or they need to get loads of tourists in. But look on a map – the place is miles from anywhere.

I wish them well…

14 March 2026 (Saturday) - Scadbury Park

I woke shortly after at four o’clock in a cold sweat following a nightmare in which I’d been seconded to take over the medical laboratory at my old primary school which wasn’t making a profit. I wasn’t at all sure that anyone could make a profit by performing blood tests (for free) on small children, but what do I know?

 

I got up at seven o’clock, made toast and had a look at the Internet. It was still there, and was much the same as ever. This morning the political squabbles were rather bitter as people who are staunch Reform and Conservative supporters were now dead against the war in the Middle East which only a few days ago they’d been supporting. The reason for their change of heart? – the leaders of their chosen political partes had changed their minds. Politics winds me up. So many people choose a political party and then go along with what that party says rather than forming an opinion of their own.

I saw my brother was off to see the football. Having driven to Brighton to get on the coach at some silly hour he was on his way to Sunderland.

I Munzed, got Wordle (ankle) on the fifth attempt, and strained my brain as Steve did the “Guess the Lyrics” competition on the radio. “Baby baby, when I lay with you there’s no place I’d rather be”? No? It was “I Feel For You” by Chaka Khan. If it’s any consolation I had no idea either.

 

We drove round to Repton and Dog Club where I wasn’t happy to see that the people at the later sessions had forgotten to shift last week’s dog poo bag (again). But other than that we had a (mostly) good session. It was a shame that Bailey escaped, but apart from that, a couple of minor quarrels and some humping a good time was had by all.

It probably helped by having all the humans standing in the sun where it was warmer. For some reason we always seem to stand in the shadows.

 

From Dog Club we drove off for a little walk. AS we drove Steve was doing the Mystery Year competition on the radio. When did the SAS storm the QE2? 1972.

We listened to Steve as far as Leeds castle which was where the radio signal gave out. From there we listened to my MP3 player until we got to Sidcup and Scadbury park. There were geocaching souvenirs for finding fourteen puzzle geocaches today, and with eighteen in the park, Scadbury seemed to be the place to go to.

We’ve been there before (not that I can remember the place) and I would certainly go back… but perhaps not at the weekend. It was heaving with normal people. But for the most part they did their thing and we did ours. It was only a shame that we dropped Pogo’s lead and had to back-track a few hundred yards.

After a couple of hours we were back at the car. We’d had a good walk, and as a geocaching walk I can’t recommend it highly enough. About as many caches as it would be possible to get, mostly straightforward finds…

I took quite a few photos whilst we were out.

 

We took a little diversion on the way home to drop Pogo home after his little holiday. We met up with his mummy at the playpark where she was having some time with little Jake. Little Jake isn’t so little anymore; he’s taller than his grandmother. We’d not seen him for far too long, and after a little ice-breaker with the dogs today we will definitely meet up again. Soon.

We came home via Repton where I was pleased to see that the dog poo bag had gone. I don’t know who took it, and (in all honesty) I don’t much care. It has been sorted and so that is one less thing for me to do.

 

Once home we had a cuppa. I did the geo-admin to get the e-souvenirs, had the obligatory go on ChatGPT then went back out to my car. As we’d driven my car had whinged that the tyre pressures were low so I pumped them up. I’ve not done that for four months. Is that bad? I never used to pump up the tyres on previous cars. Partly because they never whinged at me about low tyre pressure, partly because no one else checks tyre pressures, but mostly because the nice man in the garage had told me that tyre pressures are a servicing thing. Was he wrong?

 

We had a little doze, then got the Infinity table out and played “Ticket to Ride” pretty much all the way around the world… we had a little drinkie or two as we played. It was all rather vague by the time the amaretto came out. I thought I had three bottles of the stuff,,, I could only find one,

13 March 2026 (Friday) - A Day's Leave

I slept far better than I thought I might; Pogo was quiet last night and didn’t starfish across the bed. He’s quite a lump and can take up space.

 

I smiled as I scoffed toast. The geo-feds have looked at my plans for the midsummer’s eve event and given it the thumbs-up. Because of the rules they can’t make the thing live for a week or so; apparently events can only be published three months or less in advance. Oh well… at least all is in order.

There was someone on one of the local Facebook groups asking for recommendations for a decent vet. This question comes up all the time, and every vet within twenty miles get praise and criticism. When looking for a vet people seem to forget two important points. Firstly vets are regularly inspected by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons and the government and any which aren’t any good are closed down. And secondly vets aren’t the NHS which is free. They are businesses which aren’t. Sadly (like going to the pub) having a pet is fast becoming the province of those who can afford it.

Meanwhile a lost episode of Doctor Who has been found.

 

I Munzed – our Munzee Clan has reached the second of our monthly goals. I Wordled from “found” through “knave” and “renal” to “eaten” then had a minor sulk. I’d had the offer to go on a geocaching outing to London today. Originally I couldn’t get the day off but I asked on Tuesday and got the day off… but had forgotten about the geo-outing. By the time I remembered everyone else would have been on the train.

Ho hum…

 

I took the dogs out. As we drove to the woods Jessie Buckley was on Desert Island Discs. She sounded to be an interesting person… even though I’d never heard of her before.

We got to the woods and walked four miles. We saw some horses, but the dogs came back when called, and other than that the walk was completely uneventful. But it was a *lot* muddier than it had been yesterday; the overnight rain had seen to that.

We came home via the petrol station… bearing in mind all the doom and gloom on the news about petrol prices the stuff has only gone up by three pence per litre in the last week. Having said that, it will probably go through the roof now.

 

We came home for baths. Pogo had been good as gold up the woods, and whilst he was no trouble at bath time, the bath was definitely crowded with four dogs in it.

I made us both a cuppa and then spent a little while playing with ChatGPT again. It made a good cartoon of the dogs in the wood and of them playing in mud, but when it came to making pictures of them in the bath it duplicated the Morgan dog. I asked it to remove one of them and it removed both. It got it right on the third attempt, but with only getting five free pictures a day there’s very little scope for cock-up.

 

I spent a few minutes solving geo-puzzles, then had a little doze on the sofa and woke with a neck ache. I spent the afternoon (as I so often do) watching episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which (as so often happens) the most confident contestants ran an utter shambles of a place and came last.

I then announced that it was time to “FEED THE FISH”. The dogs always like that. Sadly when I came to top up the fish food I managed to spill bird seed everywhere, but it didn’t take that long to clear up.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up fish and chips which we scoffed whilst watching the latest episode of Danny Dyer’s Caravan Park. This week he organised the caravan park’s entertainment by wheeling on some showbiz pals of his. Any doubts I might have had about not wanting a caravan on Sheppey were firmly killed by watching his eighties night…

I’ve always fancied the idea of a caravan or a camper van… but it’s not practical and if the TV show is anything to go by I’m fast changing my mind.

12 March 2026 (Thursday) - Home Alone

With no alarm set I had a decent night. I slept through till nearly seven o’clock. I got up, made toast and had a look at the Internet. Last night I’d been looking at bottles of stout on Amazon; this morning my Facebook feed was filled with adverts for beer and posts from pub-related Facebook pages. It would seem that a pint of stout is over ten quid in some of the pubs in London. More and more, a pub is a luxury beyond the pockets of most people.

 

I took the dogs out. As we drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing some politician or other. The person and the topic of the interview were irrelevant as it just went the same way of every political interview. Something scandalous had happened, and some government minister agreed to go on national radio to be interviewed about the matter only to evade every question asked of them. Why go on the radio at all if all you are going to do is effectively make yourself and your chosen party look bad?

 

We got to the woods an hour earlier than usual and the car park was a lot busier than it is at nine o’clock. We set off on our walk and soon met two normal people having an argument. Their dogs were playing, but clearly these people didn’t know what dog play looked like, and both were shouting at the other to call their dog away. Morgan and Bailey joining in probably didn’t help matters at all, but they came away when I called them. We walked off leaving the normal people arguing and the dogs playing.

Apart from that, the walk was rather uneventful. We went round four and a bit miles and came back to the car when I noticed the fox poo smeared all up Bailey’s back. Up to that point I’d hoped we might not have needed a bath when we got home.

 

We came home and had that bath. I put a load of washing in to scrub, made myself a cuppa and Munzed. Then I had a little look at Wordle. Bearing in mind the state Bailey had been in earlier I started with “turds” which gave me an “s” in the wrong place. Following on from that I tried “shite” which was a mistake as I already knew the “t” wasn’t there, but it told me where the “s” went. “Spell” got me almost there, and “smell” did the trick.

We then had a minor commotion as “My Boy ^TM” came to visit. He returned the pressure-washer he’d borrowed at the weekend and helped me take the shingle-patterned liner off of the pond’s bog filter. The stuff never looked right. I really want to get some sort of waterproof lino-type stuff with a dark rock pattern, but I just can’t find any.

 

I played with ChatGPT some more, and wrote up some CPD until the washing machine finished. I ironed shirts, then voomed round with the Hoover, dinged out the recycling, sorted out the event page for my planned midsummer’s eve picnic and generally tidied up. As I fiddled around I watched “Vladimir” on Netflix. It was a rather good show about a couple of aging university professors who had an “open marriage” in which they both carried on porking whoever they fancied. I found myself reminded of a chap with whom I used to work who could never keep it inside his trousers.

 

With the dogs snoring I loudly announced that I was going to “FEED THE FISH”. That caused some minor mayhem.

“er indoors ^TM” came home from a day at the office. Pogo came with her – he’s having a little holiday with us. We had a pasta bake for tea whilst watching the last episode of the current season of “Starfleet Academy”. There’s going to be another season next year; it’s got another chance…

As long as there’s been spin-offs of Star Trek (since the animated series in 1973) I’ve been whinging about those who don’t like the spin-offs… and here I am now one of those I used to whinge about.