18 February 2014 (Tuesday) - Goodbye Ron

I had planned to get up in the night and put some washing on. I woke at 4am; thought better of it and went back to sleep. I got up shortly before 7am, had brekkie and put the lead on to “Furry Face ^TM “ and took him for a walk. Rather than going out locally we drove out to Boughton Malherbe (near Lenham) for a little walk round the countryside. We parked up near the church in Boughton Malherbe and walked across some fields enjoying some wonderful views as we went. And we picked up some geocaches as we went. And gave offence too.

When one finds a geocache one is required to write a little story about the visit, about how the walk was; how the cache was found, the entire experience. And one is not supposed to give away any spoilers about the thing either. Most people just do cut-and-paste generic accounts. That’s what I do; I’ve rigged my geo-app to give a generic polite comment with a link to this blog for those who are actually interested in what I did today.

The whole writing a report thing is somewhat farcical because regardless of whether anyone just pastes blather or waxes lyrically, no one ever reads the write-up except to try to get a hint for when they can’t find a particular cache.

The hider of one of today’s finds took issue with my generic way of caching; specifically my comment of “But am I being cynical in wondering if anyone reads logs for any reason other than to get another hint ?” Apparently this fellow reads the logs because he likes to know if people enjoyed finding the cache, if they had any problems with the coordinates, what the footpaths were like, or any problems they came across. Admirable sentiments. All of which would have been answered had he waited till the evening when I would publish my day’s rantings. I wouldn’t have taken such umbrage if the chap logged his finds with any alacrity. But after a bit of rather silly squabbling all was well that ended well.

It was all a tad trivial, and the fellow in question has since apologised. I probably got a tad precious myself. I wish I could be like others and not have my piss boil about the most trivial of things. I’ve since deleted that line from my generic comment.

So, to fill in some details about the day, the fields were muddy and the hills steep. At this time of year quite dangerously so; especially when one is being dragged about by a small dog intent on worrying sheep. The cache hides themselves… here is where it becomes tricky and why I prefer a generic blog rather than specific descriptions. All three were unique in their own special ways; one more so than others. I *really* cannot say more without spoiling the fun.

Our trip home was fun; as we came down a rather small country lane we found a huge juggernaut coming the other way. I pulled my car in as tightly as I could, the juggernaut tried to pass, and we both got wedged in place. Fortunately after ten minutes or so a passing normal person shouted directions at us and helped us get free.

It was with a sense of relief that we came home and I bathed “Furry Face ^TM “ before finally solving the mystery of Feigenbaum’s bifurcation theorem and turning WSSEENNESWESENNEWSSEENNSENSSENEWNEWSSE into a set of co-ordinates.

I fancied kebab for lunch. Unfortunately the kebab shop was shut. It usually opens about 2pm; just after every other shop has had the lunchtime rush. So I had a sandwich instead. Over lunch I watched a film. “Control” was a film about the lead singer of “Joy Division”, not a band I particularly like, and I slept through the first half of the film, and gave up three quarters of the way through.

After a quick belt of pancakes (what else on Shrove Tuesday) we went round to Queen Street where the clans gathered. They do that.

And in closing today it seems that I missed Ron Dell’s funeral. If I had known it was today I may well have made the effort to have attended. When I first got into kite flying (all those years ago) Ron was one of the first to welcome me into the game. He started up the Teston kite festivals so many years ago. I didn’t see him that often, but when I did he was so friendly and welcoming; I can distinctly remember him turning up at our camp one Teston kite festival; bearing a huge fruit pudding and asking if we would want it as he had too many.

A true gentleman; the world is a sadder place with his passing. Would that I would be missed as much as Ron will be