Not working today meant
that I slept like a log, finally emerging from my pit shortly before
8am. I checked the world (via the Internet) to see what was
going on. I had a minor sulk. Today is Canterbury Beer Festival. In
years gone by I would have led a dozen reprobates on a beer swilling
mission half way across the county. But in these austere times I
really can't afford to spend close on one hundred pounds just to make
myself feel ill (and to put on more weight). I had the offer
to go to the beer festival with my Ham Street Lover, and I seriously considered going. But
I have to work tomorrow, and sense and sensibility prevailed.
Instead I went to see the
doctor. I've had a rash on my bum for a couple of months. It's not
getting any better; in fact it's got to the stage where I've been
scratching it so much that it bleeds, and the blood makes my pants
stick to my bum. (Welcome to my world!) I've been given
antibiotics - we'll see how they go.
Mind you I'm not sure the
quack gave my chuff the amount of attention he might have done - he
spent as much time fiddling with his mobile as scrutinising my
posterior.
I had a moan to the
practice manager as I came out. I got the distinct impression that
the quack was utterly disinterested in my malady. Whilst I can
understand his disinterest at my bum, had I presented a more serious
problem I don't think I would want a diagnosis from someone whose
attention was on texting his mates.
I came home to see the
recycling binmen had been. They had emptied every bin in the street.
Except mine. I had a whinge to the council, and after a little
sarcasm on their part they agreed to send the binmen back again.
We then took the dogs
out. It was a hot morning, but the dogs like a run. We went through
Newtown to Frogs Island and back; if only because that route gives
the dogs somewhere in the river that they can have a paddle.
Skinhead and her Epic
Chest (patent pending) came to visit "Daddies Little
Angel TM". The epic chest was too much for
me, so I went up town. Ostensibly to get a container for the job lot
of dog food I'd got the other day. But whilst I was at it I thought
I'd have a milk shake. It was a hot day. The spotty assistant in
McDonalds ignored me and turned his attention to the epically
breasted schoolgirls, so I took my money round to Chill Time and got
a butterscotch shake. Very nice. I could have squealed on spotty to
his manger, but I felt I'd done enough complaining today already
As I came home I saw
another triumph of our bin men (!) Too lazy to but the recycling bins
back from where they had come, the bin men had littered all the
pavements with the bins. Young mothers were pushing prams and push
chairs up the roads to get by.
When er indoors TM"
came home we took "Furry Face TM"
out for a walk. As always geocaching suggests walks to places we've
not been. We went up to Hastingleigh and braved a jungle to find a
cache. Bodsham Dragons was
hidden by someone who has never actually logged finding a cache, and
hasn't logged on to the caching website for over a year. Having
listed the terrain as 1.5/5 (really easy, you doddery old great
grannie could do it) it was probably closer to a rating of 3.5/5
as it was a kilometre's hike up and down some of the steepest hills
and then through several dozen yards of chest high brambles.
After that mission,
finding a sandwich box in the general vicinity of a church was a
piece of cake.
Home for fish, chips, and
a relatively early night... I have to leave for work by 7.45am
tomorrow. I just know I will be awake at least four hours earlier
than I need to be.
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