An early start; I was up
clearing more of the weekend's washing up at 5.30am. It's amazing how
much washing up you can generate when you put your mind to it. And
even more amazing how long it takes to shift the stuff. Over brekkie
I watched lame DVDs with my dog. He seemed especially subdued this
morning. Either too much sun or too much barbecue food over the
weekend has taken its toll on him. Probably a combination of the two.
Poor little pup. Either that or Blake's Seven has a particularly
soporific effect on Patagonian Tripe-Hounds.
And so to work. As I
drove I listened to the news as I do, There wasn't much of note other
than that tensions would seen to be rising on the border between
Spain and Gibraltar. Mind you as the pundits on the radio pointed out
it is extremely unlikely that the UK and Spain will go to war over
the matter. The status of Gibraltar is something over which the
British and Spanish have been squabbling for centuries. The petty
bickering is unlikely to finish any time soon.
I stopped off at
Morrisons to get the makings of lunch. I also got a bottle of port
whilst I was at it. That should come in handy for the weekend. I
endeavoured to find out what the plans were for the weekend. Back
when Teston kite festival was under the original management we could
have gone up on the Thursday and made a long weekend of it. Now we
are effectively wasting a day's leave on Thursday whilst we wait for
the gate to be opened on the Friday morning. And then what was the
most enjoyable day of the event - the Friday - will be spent doing
all the hard work of setting up camp.
Once at work I did my
thing. I hadn't been there long when I got a text - back at the ranch
"Daddies Little Angel TM" was in
residence and she texted to tell me that "Furry Face TM"
had been sick. Again. I thought he didn't seem his normal self
earlier. I shall have to keep an eye on him. Mind you it wasn't long
before another text came in saying that she'd taken both dogs for a
walk and Fudge had somehow got fox poo on his head. If he's well
enough to be playing in fox poo he can't be that ill. That dog does
love the fox dung.
As I did my thing at work
the burning issue of the day was what would you rather be - mermaid
or pirate? For me there was no choice. On the one hand you could be
rather foxy and muck around in the water. On the other hand you could
wipe your bum with a hook.
I came home a rather
circuitous route via Selling railway station. I wanted to carry on my
streak of a geocache a day all the time I can. It was only on arrival
at Selling that I realised that the cache has had some "didn't
find it" logs recently; including one from the bloke who hid
it,
I found it though.
Job done...
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