11 November 2026 (Wednesday) - Rain, Puzzle Club

With no alarms set I slept through until after eight o’clock. I got up, saw it was raining, sighed, and made toast. I sighed again as I peered into the Internet. Some idiot had the hump because he’s lost his legal case. He had sued the local bus company because he felt that the rainbow logo on the bus offended his religious sensibilities, but ironically lost his case for the simple reason that he’d sued the wrong bus company. Would he have won if he’d sued the right company?

Another idiot thought he had found incontrovertible evidence that Noah’s Ark was real and (somehow) consequently all of modern science was wrong, and was asking for financial contributions to prove his theories. And another religious crackpot was comparing modern society with “Salmon and Gamora”.

I get a load of religious nonsense on my Facebook feed; none of the righteous can ever explain why their god never comes up with the cash. Somehow the AI algorithm at Facebook would seem to have lumped religious crackpot-ism in with flat Earth nonsense and anti-vaccination bollox… oh, there’s a *lot* of it out there.

 

I Munzed. I opened two Qrates, and I had an email saying that Munzee HQ had sorted my issue with the missing Widdlz Workshop. I Wordled. Starting with “wrong” didn’t give me a single right letter. I started again with “table” and got it with “bless” on the third go.

And then seeing how it was still raining I got on with the ironing.

 

As I ironed I watched the last episodes of “The Doll”. It was an odd show. I thought it was going to be a Polish version of “Upstairs Downstairs”; it featured some successful and rich businessman who was looked down on by all the other nobs because he wasn’t an aristocrat… even though he had tons of money and they didn’t have a pot to piss in. It also featured some glamourous young woman who everyone seemed to want to marry, even though she was horrible. A lot of the plot hinged around someone or other having set light to a boat for no apparent reason. I can only think the show lost a lot in translation.

 

The rain stopped; we went to the woods. As we walked we met another dog walker we know by sight, and the foragers were having a little (great big) campfire. They seemed happy enough; in theory there’s no fires allowed in the woods, in practice not my circus, not my monkeys.

We walked our usual route without any episodes. Nor any fracases, altercations or ding-dongs either. I suppose I should really grade the severity of our (my) incidents really, shouldn’t I?

 

We came home. I Meowdoku-ed, and had a look at some geo-puzzles. I solved one… and then “er indoors ^TM” drove me round to the New Chimneys and Puzzle Club. For some time there’s been talk of a Kent geocaching puzzle club and tonight was our first meeting. We already have monthly geo-meet-ups, but they are more of a social thing. The idea for tonight was to get together to share ideas and suggestions about solving geo-puzzles. I must admit I had high hopes but low expectations, but the meeting went rather well. No one was handing out answers (like I’ve heard happens at other puzzle clubs) but instead we talked about puzzles that some of us had solved and those who’d solved them gave suggestions and pointers. And we looked at puzzles that none of us had solved and brainstormed. We had fifteen people along… we shall certainly do this again.

10 November 2026 (Tuesday) - Late Shift

When the dogs weren’t shoving me about I spent an inordinate amount of time last night embroiled in a nightmare in which our new works computer was attempting (and succeeding at) global domination.

I made toast and had my usual look at the internet. I’d woken this morning with an earworm… a song about “Aubrey the Strawberry” I had a vague recollection that he might have been a magician who came to my primary school every Christmas. I asked on the school’s Facebook page.

Facebook told me a friend had a birthday today… I didn’t recognise the name at all. I eventually worked out it was someone with whom I worked many years ago who had since married.

There wasn’t much else happening on-line, so I chivvied “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs out of bed.

I Munzed, getting a Quick Grow potion. I Wordled from “works” to “truce” in four goes. And seeing “dog brekkie” was done I took the dogs out.

 

With time short we went to Orlestone, and as I turned off of what used to be the old A-road and on to Birchett Lane so two stags ran across the lane. I thought that they were solitary creatures. Google says they are. Clearly deer don’t read the Internet.

We had a good (if short) walk. The nice people from Forestry England were doing whatever it is that they do in the woods. We exchanged pleasantries and then Morgan peed up their tyres. He pees up everything; I wish he wouldn’t. And we met another nice lady; the meeting went far better than yesterday’s one.

Mind you we had a minor hiccup when we came home. Some bloke was walking down the pavement toward us. Clearly he wasn’t too sure with dogs so he walked up our front garde path and stood in front of our door, obviously expecting us to walk past. However things didn’t go according to his plan. With some weirdo in the garden the dogs went mental.

 

I made us both a cuppa, Meowdoku-ed, and chased up some purchases I made last week. I’m a great fan of buying things on-line, but what happens when things go wrong? For example this missing Munzee Widdle Workshop. I emailed them a few days ago and heard nothing. I emailed again this morning and got an automated reply. So they got this message, if not last week’s.

 

I set off work-wards. I stopped off at the petrol station in Aylesford where the stuff was again quite a bit cheaper than it is in Ashford. I got a sandwich whilst I was at it.

As I sat in the works car park scoffing my sarnie I got a phone call. Someone living in Bexhill had found one of Treacle’s lost collar tags. By law all the dogs have to have a tag on their collar with my contact details in case they get lost (the dogs; not the tags). Treacle’s managed to lose several tags. This one was found on a golf course some time ago. The nice lady who found it saw the pink butterfly design and thought it was a marker that you put down to remember where the golf ball was. It was only this morning when she turned it over and saw my name and phone number, so she rang me to find out what the tag was all about.

She says she will post it back to me…

 

I went into work. It wasn’t one of the better shifts. I pride myself on leaving as little as possible for whoever is taking over from me… tonight the night shift had its work cut out.

 

I came home where “er indoors ^TM” was watching “Last One Laughing”; a show featuring ten comedians competing to make each other laugh without laughing themselves. The last contestant to keep a straight face wins the trophy. I rather lost interest… I suspect the thing will run and run. There was no danger of anyone laughing…

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.