Some nights "Furry
Face TM" sleeps on my bed. I wish he
wouldn't; but I was reliably assured that last night I was fast
asleep with my hand on his head. We (apparently) looked rather
sweet. I can't see that somehow - I never wanted a dog (!)
Despite (or perhaps
because of) the dog on my bed I was awake at 4.30am this morning,
and was up and pootling before 5.30am. I had brekkie and a double
helping of BattleStar Galactica. That show is going through a rather
depressing phase at the moment.
I checked my emails. A
new geocache had gone live only five miles north according to the
morning's missives. The chance of an FTF would give me something to
do on the way to work so I got ready quickly, checked the geo-map,
and couldn't see any new caches. So I re-checked the email. Whoops(!)
Whilst away in Brighton
last week I'd set up an email alert for any new caches within a few
miles of where we were camping. And it would seem that message alert
is still active. This new cache was in Burgess Hill; some fifty miles
away. I'd better turn that alert off, hadn't I?
But filled with
geo-enthusiasm I thought I'd pick up a cache on the way to work this
morning. There was one I'd had my eye on for a couple of months. It
was (and is) on my way to work, but involved parking the car
along the A28 and walking cross country for half a mile or so (there
and back). I parked up in the lay-by at Chartham by the caravan
shop and walked down the clearly marked footpath. The footpath went
past a house. As I came close to this house a grumpy-looking chap
came out and asked if he could help me. I politely declined his offer
and followed the footpath. This bloke folded his arms and watched me
walk past. After a few seconds I could sense something; I turned to
find I was being followed. When I stopped walking, grumpy-pants
stopped walking. When I started walking, so did he. If I backtracked,
he turned around as well. After a few minutes of playing silly
beggars I stopped, stared at him and folded my arms. Eventually he
mumbled and muttered and turned round and went off.
With him gone I soon
found myself on the Route 18 cycle path which follows the river to
Canterbury. Regular readers of this drivel may recall that a group of
a dozen of us walked along this path earlier in the year. It's a
rather beautiful place to walk. I soon found the cache, and having
done the secret geo-ritual then made my way back to my car. As I
walked past his house I sarcastically waved at Mr Grumpy-Pants who
was glowering at me from his kitchen window.
I carried on with my
journey. Being a Sunday the talk on the radio was on matters
ecclesiastical. Today some bishop or other was attempting to appear
modern and trendy by attempting to twist the meanings of certain
obscure passages of the Bible to try to show that (in the eyes of
his church) there is nothing wrong with being gay. I've mentioned
this before so many times, but it always boils my piss. Personally I
have no problem with anyone being gay, trans, intro, hyper or
whatever. Whatever anyone wants to be, or is, is fine with me. but
the Bible is crystal clear on the subject It says being gay is wrong.
It actually says that very clearly in several places. Here's four of
them for a start: Lev. 18:22, Lev. 20:13,1 Cor. 6:9-10, Rom. 1:26-28.
I do wish today's church
wouldn't try to twist the meaning of the Bible to try to make
themselves look politically correct. Totally ignoring their
scriptures can only undermine their credibility.
The next chap on the
radio drivelled about the sanctity and wonder of music in worship. To
hear him speak was wonderful; he seemed so credible and articulate.
It was a shame he chose some of the most dire organ music I've ever
heard to fail to illustrate his point.
And so to work. I don't
mind working at the weekends; it gives me time off in the week to do
what I like. But I did have just the tiniest sulk today that for the
second year running I'd missed the Pirate Day celebrations in
Hastings.
And that got me thinking
about the old home town. When I moved away from the place in 1984 it
was going downhill fast. And now nearly thirty years later the place
has changed beyond recognition. Earlier in the year I went back there
for the Jack in the Green celebrations. Today I'm missing the Pirate
Day. I always miss the pram race and the carnival. Later in the year
I shall go back for the bonfire parade.
Talking of which, I
really should start sorting out dates for bonfire parades...
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