I
took one of my high-powered pain killer tablets last night and slept
like a log. Despite all the fun and games I’ve had in my
professional life over the last year or so, to my mind there is still
something fundamentally wrong about phoning in sick. I know I’m
entitled to sick leave. I know others do it. In the past I have
blogged about others in various walks of life who do it with
impunity. But I still don’t like doing it myself. Today I had no
choice. After five minutes of trying and failing to get out of my pit
I realised that fact.
I
would be sick on the only day I’m supposed to work this week, and
the last day before a week’s leave. It really looks like I’m
taking the piss. I wouldn’t believe anyone else doing the same.
I
spent a couple of minutes reviewing the “Teston Situation”:
in the past there has been a kite festival at Teston Bridge Country
Park on the second weekend in June. I’ve always gone there –
mob-handed with up to thirty-odd other assorted reprobates. Last year
there wasn’t one in June and we did our own thing. This year… Who
knows? The putative organiser deputed someone to take soundings on
the possibility of such an event via Facebook. Soundings were taken
in the most rude way imaginable. Anyone who did not fully commit to
the event was publicly harangued, regardless of the fact that we were
not told the duration of the event, the cost, what we got for our
money, what help would be expected of us whilst we were there, or
even if the event was actually going to take place.
Many
of the regular attendees have already arranged to go to other
kite-related events planned for that weekend. With lots of other
events clashing with this possible Teston; other events being
definite and requiring booking, what can we do for the best?
Realistically I doubt the festival will go ahead. So I rallied the
troops and have planned for a different camp over the late May bank
holiday instead. If any of my loyal readers fancy a bank holiday in a
tent, let me know. I don’t know what Furry Face will make of
camping – I expect I shall leave him in the tender care of the
first fruit of my loin for that weekend.
Talking
of Furry Face – he got shouted at today. With me being rather
immobile, he took great delight in barking noisily at everything and
anything that moved outside the house. I wish he wouldn’t do that.
I took him for a little walk – he seemed to be asking to go, and I
couldn’t say no. Our usual short walk is about three quarters of an
hour, and both of us seem to feel that’s not enough. Today I walked
him for half an hour – a trip round the block that would normally
take me five minutes when blessed with mobility. And that nearly
killed me.
Once
home I made a point of not collapsing as I knew I would not be able
to get up again. I hunted out an old hot water bottle and with that
heated and shoved down the back of my pants I slobbed in front of the
computer for much of the day, sending insults here, there and
thither.
Rather
a waste of a day. But about the best I could do in the circumstances.
I hope this back gets better soon…
No comments:
Post a Comment