I went to bed shortly
after midnight last night with the alarm set for 6.30am. I woke at
5.30am, so that's not bad really.
After I'd done the
washing up, I sorted brekkie. Frooty Bix for me, a bowl of milk for
Fudge. I've heard that milk's not good for him. I need to do some
research. It worries me that he drinks so little for a dog that
tiddles so much. If nothing else, giving him milk gets fluid into
him.
Once he'd had his milk I
terrorised Furry Face for a few minutes before setting off perhaps
slightly earlier than I might have done. But Sunday mornings are
especially quiet and so are ideal for a spot of lone geocaching on
the way to work. A group of people lurking about looking suspicious
is nowhere near as dodgy-looking as one person on their own looking
suspicious.
There's not many caches
left that I haven't found within striking distance of home, but one
such was at Wye downs. A rather beautiful spot. I was amazed to find
that there was a car in the car park when I pulled up at 7.25am, but
the occupants of the car were busy with what they were doing. I won't
dwell on what they were up to; suffice it to say that I have heard
the practice billed as a cure for tonsillitis.
I did my thing, I quickly
found the cache, did the secret geocaching ritual known only to the
initiated, hid the thing again, enjoyed the view and was soon back on
my way.
In the meantime those in
the other car carried on slurping and being slurped, seemingly
oblivious to the world around them. I would have thought that 7.25am
on a Sunday morning was rather early to have driven up to Wye downs
for a nosh. But I expect that those who engage in al-fresco sword
swallowing probably think that 7.25am on a Sunday morning was rather
early to go looking for plastic boxes.
I then came on to
Canterbury via Chartham where I picked up another cache. Geocaches
are graded on a D/T scale. D being "difficulty" - how hard
the thing is to find, and T being "Terrain" - how hard it
is to get to the cache. Both numbers being on a scale of one to five.
This second cache of the
morning was rated 1.5/4. Having looked it up I was dubious. A
difficulty rating of 1.5 shouldn't be that hard to find, but a
terrain rating of four... I have hidden two caches myself which are
inside rubber ducks floating in rivers which I have rated as terrain
4. I was expecting to struggle to get at the cache. Would it be up a
tree, in a swamp....?
I was wrong - it was easy
to get to. Whilst someone in a wheelchair might have had a tricky
time, it was certainly accessible by push chairs. I can only imagine
that there has been some forest clearance which has taken place since
the cache was hidden. Certainly the terrain rating might benefit from
a tad of adjustment.
As I drove, the radio was
talking of vaguely religious matters, as it often does on a Sunday.
There was an argument between two Hindus, one of high caste and one
of low caste. Apparently there is legislation in Parliament to make
it illegal for those of high caste to discriminate against those of
low caste. The chap who was of low caste was all for the legislation,
as one might expect. The chap who was of high caste felt the whole
thing was silly as no one ever discriminated against him, his family
or his social circle. As one might expect. Furthermore he went on to
point out (in a rather patronising way) that the whole concept of
caste discrimination was nonsense. Apparently it never affects anyone
of any importance (!)
It was a sad
demonstration of the fact that we need this legislation that the low
caste chap's arguments were nowhere near as convincing as the high
caste chap's arrogance.
The radio then wheeled on
several self-appointed pundits who squabbled about the personal
religion of Margaret Thatcher. Apparently Mag Thatch had announced
that she was Christian, and had also made it known that she felt very
deeply about her religious convictions. Some of the pundits defended
her position, others attacked it. None with any real credibility. Did
she have a deep religious belief? I don't know. Does anyone ever know
if someone else actually believes in their professed religion or is
just going through the motions because it is expected of them. Like I
used to.
And then it was time for
the radio's Sunday service. I've whinged about the broadcasted Sunday
services in the past. I'm not keen on the happy-clappy form of
worship; preferring something rather more traditional myself. However
there is a fine line between "traditional" and "dreary".
Today's service had crossed that line.
And so to work. As I'd
driven the scenic way to work through various country lanes I had
encountered several floods. The usual suspects were off walking dogs
today (and looking for tupperware too). I exchanged a few
texts during the day if only to see what I was missing. They'd gone
to Bedgebury - where I went last Wednesday. It was rather wet
underfoot in places a few days ago. Much as I like being out and
about, judging by the floods I'd driven through this morning I think
that were I to have picked a weekend to work, this might have been
one of the better ones. And the wind was rather excessive at times.
Walking when it's blowy is no fun.
I kept telling myself
that as the day went on.
And so home where I
caught up with yesterday's episode of Doctor Who. It could have been
a good episode. I fell asleep...
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