11 February 2026 (Wednesday) - Before the Late Shift

I slept well. I made toast, took another antibiotic and had a look at the Internet. It was still there. Someone had posted to one of the local Facebook groups saying that people asking for employment were more likely to get it if they used their own names when asking rather than some silly Facebook-generated nickname. It speaks volumes about the potential applicants that this needs to be pointed out.

I saw that there is to be a protest this weekend at the RNLI HQ protesting about lifeboats being used to save the lives of asylum seekers. There was one of those in Hastings a few years ago when some activists arranged to prevent the lifeboat being launched… and then a few months later the same sheep who’d blocked the lifeboat turned up to fundraisers to help those same asylum seekers… apparently rent-a-mob went along to wherever they saw the masses were being directed that week without a thought for what they were actually supporting.

And there were rumours about the derelict Odeon in Ashford to be refurbished, and endless suggestion about how they might do it and what they might do with it… with no-one having any idea who “they” might be.

These people are allowed to vote and do jury service, you know.

 

I sent out birthday wishes to two people with whom I used to work ten years ago. One was something of a religious nut. The other was something of a worry. One day he announced that he’d got a job in Southampton and said that he was looking at moving companies as he didn’t drive. I offered to drive a van…

We had a good day moving him, but I can remember loading up the van. It was just him and some bloke from work (me). I assumed all his mates would be at the other end to help with the unloading. We got to Southampton where there wasn’t anyone. Just me and him. I can also remember being very reluctant to leave him; he seemed happy enough but there was something rather sad about leaving him on his own. But twelve years later he’s still there, and seemingly happy enough.

 

I Munzed, Wordled from “drive” to “vegan”, then looked at the geo-map. Geocaching HQ had announced the requirements for the next load of Treasures which will go live next week. I had a look at the map and planned a couple of little geo-expeditions. I had a go at some puzzles on chess dot com, then amazed myself by beating a bot before writing up some CPD.

I didn’t take the hounds out this morning. It was wet and I didn’t have time to get to Kings Wood and back, and then bath the dogs before work. Over the summer we’d go to Orlestone, but that would have been an epic swamp today.

I thought about chasing a First to Find… a new geocache went live four days ago and no one had been to find it. The problem was that this one was in Whitstable, and working in Pembury today would have meant driving twenty miles in exactly the wrong direction before I even considered heading to work.

 

The dogs got rather excited as I got ready for work. They thought they were coming out with me. Sadly for all of us, they weren't. 

I drove round to the petrol station to refuel. As I came out I mumbled and muttered. The right turn to the motorway was blocked up and I had to go the long way round. It was as well that I did; three quarters of the way round I remembered I didn't need to go up the motorway today. Had there been no obstruction I would have been well on my way to Maidstone before I'd remembered. 

 

I'd also forgotten to get lunch so I popped into the little shop in Sissinghurst. The place had three or four young mothers (with their children screaming in the cars outside) doing their shopping. All in their pyjamas complete with fluffy slippers. Why do people go shopping in their pyjamas? 

 

I stopped off in Goudhurst as a few years ago I'd hidden a geocache there. I'd had reports that it had gone missing; it had. It didn't take *that* long for me to replace it. To be honest the people whinging that it had gone missing could have replaced it in less time than it took for them to whinge about it, but there it is.

And fuelled with geo-enthusiasm I stopped off in Pembury to log a find on a geocache that had been almost (but not quite) buried by the post box.

 

I went in to the late shift. I rather dread late shifts in a hospital which is a dedicated trauma centre. You'd think after all these years I would be a bit more used to the excitement, wouldn't you? Work could have been worse, but I got quite a bit of stick about what if the squirrel that bit me on Monday had been radioactive; I would now be the superhero "Squirrel Man", but what my special powers might be would seem to be anyone's guess... and there were a lot of guesses being made…

10 February 2026 (Tuesday) - A.I. Artwork

I slept well, but the bite on my finger was sore this morning, as was my arm where I’d had the injection. I’ve heard people whinge about injection sites being sore; I’ve not had one play up like this one before.

The nice nurse said to give the bandage on my finger a day, so I pulled it off this morning. Bandages are good for attention-seeking, but cuts (and presumably bites) heal better when left open.

 

I took another antibiotic, made toast and had a look at the Internet. Not a lot was going on. I rolled my eyes at some of the work-related Facebook pages on which so-called medical professionals bent over backwards to show their ignorance. I know the average person wouldn’t be able to distinguish between a Howell-Jolly body and basophilic stippling… but a reasonable comparison would be that a professional driver would know the difference between a bus and a train.

I sent out birthday wishes (via Facebook and WhatsApp), and spent a few minutes checking dates. I’m sure that yesterday was the birthday of someone who was once important in my life. It *might* have been an old drinking mate from my days at Brighton Technical College… I’ve not seen Dave Ferrief for years. I’ve tried to get in touch with him; the last I heard he was somewhere in Surrey.

 

The weather forecast was for light rain showers so I took the dogs out anyway. As we drove to the woods the pundits on the radio were talking about how the Prime Minister seems to have ridden out the scandal surrounding him… the scandal being that he was unaware of someone else being a wrong ‘un.

We got to the woods at about the time we were driving home yesterday, and there were a lot more cars in the car park today. There’s a lot to be said for getting there early. Had we been earlier we would have missed today’s idiot. As we walked one of the narrower paths so some woman came up the other way with two Boxer dogs. Her dogs were fine and didn’t seem to have any issues, but she went hysterical and shrieked that we had to go back the way we’d come because we couldn’t go anywhere near her. I find it is usually best not to argue with idiots so we back-tracked.

I mentioned this episode to other dog walkers we know; apparently despite being new to the Kings Wood dog walking scene, this idiot woman has made herself known. One or two were talking of reporting her, but I’m not sure to whom it is that you report idiots.

Our walk was muddy; despite chasing squirrels the dogs didn’t catch any today which was probably for the best… both for the squirrels and me.

 

After nearly five miles and nearly two hours we were back at the car. We came home for a bath. I made up both a cuppa, filled up the bird feeder and went round the garden hunting for dog dung.

I spent a little while writing up CPD, then played about making caricatures with ChatGPT.

 

I spent a while watching episodes of “Four In A Bed”. The last place to host in today’s episodes won today for the simple reason that the first place didn’t actually do breakfast, and the second and third places hated each other. 

And then I had a message. A chap with whom I went to school (from 1975 to 1981) will be back in the country in a week or so’s time. Did I fancy a little meet-up. I would. It would be good to organise a reunion… However there’s hardly anyone from the good old days at the Hastings Academy for Budding Geniuses who still lives in Hastings. I’ve posted to the school’s old boys Facebook group… You never know.

 

“er indoors ^TM” went off to her works quiz night. I sat in front of the telly with the dogs and binge-watched the new BBC production of “Lord of the Flies”. One of many books that the English teachers at school killed stone dead, it’s a rather good story. However what the BBC strung out over four hour-long episodes could have been better done in two.

I’ve got to go to work tomorrow…

9 February 202 6 (Monday) - Squirrel Bite

I stood on the scales this morning as I’d planned. My weight has held constant for the last two weeks. Oh well, as long as it’s not creeping up again, I suppose.

I made toast and had my usual look at the Internet as I do every morning. I hadn’t missed much overnight. Nothing appeared in my Facebook feed apart from some utter nonsense about improving sleep quality by going for three to four mile walks in the mornings (!)

I Munzed, then took the dogs for a walk.

 

We went to the woods. We were early this morning – at half past seven there wasn’t any other cars in the car park. It was rather misty; I hoped to see deer, but we didn’t. We had a quiet peaceful walk right up to the last half-mile when I could hear a screaming. Bailey had a squirrel in her mouth, and the other two were watching in much the same way that small children in a playground crowd round a scrap shouting “Fight! Fight”. The squirrel was screaming; I told Bailey to let it go which she did. I lifted the squirrel onto a branch where it would be safe; the bloody thing sunk its teeth into my finger. A classic example of the two hundred and eighty-fifth Rule of Acquisition. “No good deed ever goes unpunished”.

 

The blood poured out and over a minute passed before the squirrel finally let go. But rather than running up the tree it ran down to the ground where Bailey was waiting. Bailey caught it again and shook it like an old sock. This time Bailey gave it some serious stick and broke its back. Seeing the poor squirrel had had it I stomped on its head to put it out of its misery. And with the thing killed, Bailey lost all interest in it. Treacle then carried the carcass looking very proud with herself.

I then stood and watched the blood gushing from my finger with a sense of WTF do I do now? It had.(mostly) stopped bleeding by the time I got to the car. We came home where “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” and Pogo had arrived for a little visit. I washed my hand and the dogs, and the expert opinion was that I should have my hand looked at. So I ran “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” home, and as we drove so the most recent fruit of my loins called up the hospital waiting times app. As luck would have it, the shortest waiting time was at the Folkestone walk-in centre so once I’d dropped her and Pogo off I went there.

 

“Squirrel bite” raised a couple of eyebrows; the closest they’d had for some time was a tourist who’d had a nip off of a seagull. But I was in and out in a couple of hours. The main cause of delay was (so I was told) that squirrel bite isn’t something they see very often, and although the consensus was that I needed a tetanus jab, expert opinion was divided as to which antibiotics to prescribe. I spent a quiet couple of hours reading “Harry Potter” on my Kindle whilst the experts deliberated.

I got the tetanus jab, three days of antibiotics, and a nice bandage.

 

I came home where the dogs were all settled. Bailey clearly had no idea of what I’d gone through this morning. I put some washing in to scrub, made some toast for lunch took my antibiotic and watched some episodes of “Four In A Bed” which featured some silly chap who made a big show of telling everyone that he took great pride in being a disagreeable old scrote. He then took offence when all the other contestants treated him like a disagreeable old scrote.

 

I put a load of undercrackers in to scrub whilst “er indoors ^TM” boiled up burgers. We scoffed them then she went off bowling. I settled underneath a pile of dogs and watched more “Harlots”.

My finger is a tad sore, but where I had the tetanus injection is particularly tender.

8 February 2026 (Sunday) - Eastwell to Challock (and back)

Morgan’s snoring into my ear woke me this morning. I felt surprisingly chipper bearing in mind the amount of beer and port I put down my neck last night.

I got up, made toast and wrote up yesterday’s diary,,, eventually. My lap-top had a funny five minutes and wouldn’t highlight or copy any text, and wanted to open endless amounts of new word documents for absolutely no reason that I could fathom. Eventually I resorted to my universal fix – I pulled its plug and started again. Generally if pulling the plug doesn’t work then whatever the problem is, it is beyond fixing.

 

I had my usual rummage round the Internet; there were quite a few photos from the works outing yesterday. There had been some eighties music event in Maidstone yesterday. I’d been invited to go, but… I wasn’t keen and we had other plans. Going out is all very well, but as time goes on I’m going off of the idea. There isn’t a music event on the planet at which the volume is less than deafening. The event was heaving with the normal people. And I suspect the beer was about four times the price of the beer I had last night.

I Munzed, and got Wordle on the third attempt… there are only so many places that you can put an “m”.

 

We got the dogs organised and took them out. During the week someone had posted to the Ashford Area Country Walks Facebook page giving directions of a six-mile walk from Eastwell church. We had an idea that it might be a good route for a series of geocaches… 

It wasn’t.

With probably a third of it across wide-open fields, and a quarter of it along roads and lanes it wasn’t ideal for a trail of film pots under rocks. But it was a good walk through the countryside even if the local landowners did seem to have a bit of a thing for “Private – Keep Out” signs.

The dogs got to run off their leads for some of the way, but I watched Bailey “like a pork” (to coin a phrase) and the moment she showed any sign of getting the red mist up, she went straight back on the lead and we avoided any little episodes of standing at the edge of an impenetrable thicket waiting for her to get bored with snuffling after whichever mouse, rabbit, squirrel or figment of her imagination had set her off this time.

I took a few photos as we walked. We came home via Westwell where there was a geocache (it had to be done).

 

The dogs were filthy; they had a bath, and then we had a cuppa with Mr Kipling’s Easter mini-Battenbergs. Have you tried them? Supposedly raspberry flavour; they tasted of hubba-bubba bubblegum to me. They aren’t unpleasant, but they wouldn’t be my first choice of a cake.

 

I read more “Harry Potter” on my Kindle app and as I did, I felt a tad tired. I closed my eyes for a few minutes… and woke an hour and a half later. What a waste of an afternoon. I shall be wide awake in the small hours.

 

I wrote up a little CPD, then “er indoors ^TM” boiled up a chicken dinner which we scoffed whilst watching another episode of “The Floor”.

I shall read some more “Harry Potter” in a bit…  

I shall have a weigh-in tomorrow morning. What with a long walk today I’ve eaten two thousand calories less than I need to break even today. I bet my weight has gone up…

 

7 February 2026 (Saturday) - Working, Games Night

I fell asleep on the sofa yesterday evening which is always a bad thing. When I went to my pit I lay awake for over an hour, and when I finally did nod off I didn’t sleep for long. I eventually awoke in a cold sweat following a nightmare in which a friend I’ve not seen for years was accused of having done some petty crime fifty years ago and it was up to me to persuade Doctor Who to take me back to the late seventies to get evidence to prove his innocence.

 

I got up, made toast and watched an episode of “Harlots” in which the rich and powerful got richer and powerful-er whilst continuing to piss on the paupers who got more pauper-ish. As Oliver Hardy once remarked, “twas ever thus”.

I sparked up my lap-top and had a look at the internet. Very little (i.e.nothing) had happened overnight, so I Munzed, and got ready for work.

I didn’t want to go to work this morning. I would rather have done Dog Club but I’ve got quite a lot of weekend shifts at the moment and swapping had proved too tricky. The only consolation was that I wasn’t missing Steve on the radio; the local radio station has had a little hiatus because of a power outage which poggered the transmitter (so I am reliably informed).

 

I drove to work listening to Radio Four. This morning the pundits on there were talking about ex-Prime Minister Gordon Brown who is seemingly tiddling his knickers in terror over the entire Peter Mandelson - Jeffrey Epstein scandal. About twenty years ago Gordon Brown appointed Peter Mandelson to some government post or other, and he now regrets it. And he is taking a lot of trouble to make it clear that he regrets it; even though at the time all the evidence was that Peter Mandelson was the best man for the job, and there was no hint of any impropriety at all.

It looks likely that the current Prime Minister is going to be out on his arse for much the same reason.

How on Earth can we run a country terrified that decisions made in good faith will be held against us twenty years later when something we didn't know comes to light? 

 

I got to work earlier than I needed to, and treated myself to an almond croissant from the works M&S. Have you ever been to the food hall at M&S? In years gone by it was *the* place to go for a special treat. These days they seem to be relying on their reputation rather than living up to it. Their meal deals are over a pound more than those in Sainsburys and are rather basic. I spent a tenner on one of their meals when “er indoors ^TM” was out gallivanting a while back; jam on toast would have been better. This morning I paid double what the local corner shop charges for an almond croissant, and what I got was far inferior to that which I could have got from that local corner shop.

 

I went into work and did my thing. I try not to dwell on what goes on at work... ten years ago when working "somewhere else" I got a formal written disciplinary warning for saying that night shifts made me tired. But I will repeat what our works' chief executive said in his daily update which I read this morning: the day before yesterday we had over four hundred patients turn up at the A&E department. That's about one patient every three and a half minutes, all day and night.

 

I came home and spent much of the afternoon dozing underneath a pile of  dogs.

 

Karl and Tracey came round for the evening and we had a rather good evening playing all sorts of games on the Infinity Table. We had a particularly good evening,,, even if the evening did get rather more vague as it wore on,,,

Must do it again…

6 February 2026 (Friday) - Light's Fixed

It was hossing down when I got up this morning. I made toast and had a look at a rather dull Internet. Nothing much was kicking off for once. There was a new series of geocaches near Edenbridge; I thought they might be puzzles which would give me something to do until the rain stopped. But they weren’t.

 

After half an hour I saw the rain was easing off. If I was to believe weather forecasts I’d never leave the house, so I took a chance and took the dogs out. As we drove Professor Michele Dougherty was on Desert Island Discs. She’s been the lead investigator on several of NASA’s planetary probes and she was rather interesting. Her choice of music was eclectic to say the least, ranging from classical music to operatic dirges, Christmas carols and Abba.

We got to the woods and had a good walk. Like yesterday we stayed away from the muddiest parts. I ran the birdsong app; it detected quite a few more birds than it has done recently, and for the first time it detected an owl.

 

We came home where “er indoors ^TM” was playing music from The Wombles on the Alexa. I scrubbed the dogs, made us both a cuppa, wrote up some CPD, and then had my daily go at Wordle. Starting with “daily” was a better move than many of my first choices. “Latte” took me one letter closer, and “pales” told me where the “e” and the “l” went. “Camel” took me no further, but “bagel” gave me the clue I needed to come up with “gavel” on the last attempt.

 

We cleared the space by the fuse box, and soon there was a tap on the door. Two weeks ago the light switch in the loo broke, and the nice man came to replace it with a new one today. I had looked at the job myself, but I’m a great believer in getting in someone who knows what they are doing. The nice man took out the broken switch, put in a new one, and was on his way in twenty minutes. I would have been at it all day.

 

I then spent a little while geo-plotting. Do I want to put out a new series of geocaches… I quite like setting the things up, and planning them gives me something to do.

I then spent much of the afternoon snuggled on the sofa with Morgan reading “Harry Potter” on my Kindle app.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up pizza and chips which we scoffed whilst watching episodes of “The Floor”.

Today has been rather lazy; I’m really going to have an early night tonight… but first I’m going to the toilet because I can see what I’m doing in there now… I’ve been saving it for the works chodbin for the last fortnight…

5 February 2026 (Thursday) - Rather Busy

I intended to have an early night last night: I eventually went to my pit shortly before one o’clock. But the dogs were tired and soon settled, and with them quiet I slept well.

 

I got up at eight o’clock, made toast and had my usual look at the Internet. Reform UK featured quite prominently in my Facebook feed this morning. Two of its latest recruits have ballsed up and mistakenly voted against party policy in the House of Commons. And having got voted into power in the local county council after promising endless savings, the Reform UK councillor in charge of making them has resigned because they’ve had a year and not actually made any savings.

However on a more local level things are different. Our Reform UK councillor is working wonders in highlighting the issues with the pot holes in the local roads. And sadly our local (Labour) MP is full of hot air, and has turned out to be something of a disappointment..

I sent out birthday wishes, Munzed, and starting with “Tired” I eventually Wordled my way to “swoop” on the last attempt.

 

The weather forecast was light rain showers for the whole day, so I took a chance and took the dogs to the woods. As I drove “In Our Time” was on the radio; today talking about the plays of William Shakespeare. He died over four hundred years ago, and according to Wikipedia he “is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist”. So many people still rave about his works. We read his plays at school… I can remember them being tedious and dull. But (like with pretty much every bit of literature we ever read at school), the teachers did their level best to kill it stone dead. Many years ago we also read “Fahrenheit 451”, “Lord of the Flies”, “2001”, “Animal Farm”, “1984”, “All Quiet on the Western Front” (among others). My English teachers over-analysed everything, made all sorts of tenuous nonsensical connections and extrapolations, and sucked all the pleasure and enjoyment out of every book we ever come close to. Years later I went back to these books (and others) to find that they are actually rather good.

Why do English teachers make a point of putting students off of reading?

I really should try Shakespeare again…

 

We got to the woods to find the light rain had subsided to little more than drizzle. We kept (mostly) to the more well-trodden tracks and once we were away from the car park the woods weren’t as muddy as they might have been. But sticking to these tracks meant our walk was about a mile shorter than usual.

 

We came home where the dogs had their paws and bellies washed. I made us both a cuppa and sparked up my lap-top. A friend had seen the Prime Minister in Hastings. He was talking about the ongoing Mendelson scandal… He won’t last. The trouble he faces is that he average voter doesn’t understand politics and just wants to be entertained.

I marked more trainee work, wrote up some CPD, did a lesson and some puzzles on chess dot com, put washing in to scrub and then had a minor pootle in the garden. The seed in the bird feeder had got damp and had sprouted into grass, so I eventually managed to get the thing apart, I got the grass out and scrubbed it up. I put the bits on the radiator to dry.

 

By then my shirts were washed so I ironed them. Shirts are far easier to iron when still damp. And then I cracked on with the rest of the ironing. As I did I watched some episodes of “Four In a Bed” in which like was certainly *not* compared with like. There was a rather fancy hotel (which pulled out after the second episode), a Blackpool seaside B&B, a rather rough and ready pub, and a glamping campsite. It really wasn’t a fair contest, but it rarely is.

 

I put the bird feeder back together again, filled it, and put it back into place just as it was getting dark.

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up pork chops which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy” which was perhaps the best one so far. I won’t give any spoilers, but having been a Trekkie for over fifty years did help…

 

Oh – and as the rain continues to fall, the hosepipe ban has been lifted.