It was a really hot and
uncomfortable night last night. I needed an early start, and I got
one. I was watching Reggie Perrin getting sacked (again)
before 6am.
With my car in the garage
I found myself at the railway station and on the wrong train before
6.30am. As is always the case when I need to take a train I did my
research for the train journey on-line. Once again I found that the
price quoted by the official website http://www.nationalrail.co.uk/
was wrong. It always is; every time.
I got on the train.
Fortunately I realised I was on the wrong train before it went
anywhere and so got myself onto the right train in time. As we
trundled along the twenty minute journey to Canterbury I checked out
my emails. Mobile technology is wonderful stuff.
Cotton Traders had sent
me an email to say they weren't going to publish the review I'd
written about my walking shoes because it "didn't conform to
their guidelines for publication". I'm not surprised - the
shoes didn't conform to my guidelines for being worth having in the
first place.
I saw someone had found
one of the geocaches I'd hidden. Not content with where I'd hidden it
they told me they've moved it to where they think it should have
been. This isn't some newbie making an understandable mistake; this
is someone who's been playing the game for years and has found
thousands of caches. You really would think that someone like that
would know better. I do wish people wouldn't "help"
me like this; I've now got to go out of my way to make a special
journey to put right the damage they've done.
I also had a message to
say that the log on another of my geocaches was full. Another person
was being "helpful". By chance I was walking past
this cache this morning on my way to work. As I had a spare log in my
pocket, I changed the supposedly full one for a new one, even though
it was only half full. Literally half full. It would have been fine
for another few months.
The walk from Canterbury
West to work is one of just over half an hour. I took about forty
five minutes, but I did go via several munzees (some of which were
actually there) and a McDonalds banana shake.
Once at work I did my
bit. My phone rang - it was the garage. My heart sank as I expected
the worst. They'd found the problem with the window. It wasn't not an
uncommon problem, but it was over four hundred quid's worth of
problem. They did say that if I wanted they could put the window into
the "closed" position and bodge it permanently shut
with a lump of wood. But a window that never opens is not going to be
practical, is it? Oh well, what's money for if not to squander
foolishly.
The nice man from the
garage said he should have the car ready by tomorrow; soI can't
really complain too much...
And talking of my car I
found myself at something of a loose end at lunch time; I couldn't do
my usual sax practice. I'd left my saxophone in the boot of my car
which was at the garage. Instead I read my book on my Kindle app
until I fell asleep.
An early start made for
an early finish. Faced with a mile and a half walk to the railway
station I took a rather circuitous route via two more munzees (that
*were* there) and most (but not quite all) of a
multi-cache. By some strange qurk of fate I got to the train station
just asb the train did, so I didn't have to wait around.
Once home I chased "Furry
Face TM" around the garden for a bit. He
seemed to like that.
Being Tuesday the clans
gathered; this time in Somerset Road for the penultimate "Merlin".
It's been a good show, but has lost a certain something since the
demise of Sir Bigtits.
No comments:
Post a Comment