Another restless night;
as I lay awake at 6am I had a sudden realisation that I sleep better
in the afternoons before a night shift than I do at night. Was that
because then I pull the duvet up over my head? I tried an experiment
and was absoultely out like a light when a text message and a
Facebook message both from "er indoors TM"
woke me. All is well in Southampton. (Not so in Beaver Road, but I
didn't let on)
By then it was getting on
for 8am so I got up and had some brekkie.
After yesterday's memory
lapse "Furry Face TM" was looking
at my toast with a hopeful expression. But no toast for him today. As
I selfishly had all of my toast myself I had a look on social media.
Following the publication
of the formal
investigation into his conduct, those who were rather nasty to
anyone who dared to say anything bad about Jeremy Clarkson over the
last few days and weeks are now realising that the man isn't a saint.
It now turns out that Clarkson *did* assault someone because
he couldn't have steak and chips for his tea.
However there is still a
groundswell of opinion in favour of letting him continue producing
his TV show "Top Gear". It would seem that to many
that Jeremy Clarkson is a "colourful character" and
"a bit of a lad" and giving out slaps is what those
sorts of people do. And furthermore ignoring and forgetting the fact
that he's assaulted someone is a fair price to pay for the
continuance of a favourite TV show. Apparently.
With a little time on my
hands I took "Furry Face TM" for a
walk. We met OrangeHead's chunky little friend and her spherical dog.
Chunky little friend had the nerve to greet Fudge with "Hello
Porky".
We then had a minor
altercation. Yesterday "Furry Face TM"
expressed his physical love for a small boy poodle. This morning we
met a larger boy poodle, and my dog again thought he would "brandish
his lipstick". However this poodle definately did not "bake
a moist sponge"; neither was he "good with colours."
Said poodle made his disinterest crystal clear. Fudge soon ran away
leaving me to sort it all out. It's rather embarrassing having to
apologise for your dog's failed amorous advances.
Shortly after that we met
OrangeHead who was polite and civil. OrangeHead and her gang make me
chuckle. When you meet any of them individually they are polite,
courteous; even friendly. When you meet them together they are like a
playground gang and make a point of blanking you.
We came home; and then I
settle my dog and I went off to the late shift. As I drove to work
this morning I listened to "Women's Hour" (as it
was on the radio). Sometimes this show is interesting and
informative; other times it is little more than a platform from which
men-hating harridans spew their bitter vitriol. Today wasn't a good
day. Today's misandrists were particularly vicious. I don't know why
the BBC puts up with them; I suppose that (unlike others I have
mentioned) they haven't actually physically assaulted anyone yet.
There was also an
interview with a spokesman of "Dark
Justice". This bunch are a load of vigilantes who have
decided to clear the streets of paedophiles but don't feel that they
should be bound by such legal red tape as evidence or proof. It was
rather worrying to hear their chap ranting on the radio. Clearly not
over-burdened with brains this fellow felt that his deciding that
some innocent was a paedo was enough to start hounding that person.
Before getting to work I
discovered that there is a branch of "Go Outdoors"
in Canterbury. Being an outdoors sort of person I thought I'd have a
look-see. There's no denying they have an extensive range of stuff.
But if I ever need to buy anything I will be sure to check their
prices carefully. Some things were reasonably priced; others vastly
over-inflated. I'm not paying over a hundred quid for a pair of
trousers that I can get for fifteen quid in Matalan. The designer
label isn't worth that much to me; but I'm sure there are those who
will pay for it.
I got to work; I did my
bit. At lunch time I blew my sax. It's coming on reasonably well. For
all that I'd rather work weekends or nights, working day shifts does
give me that lunch break which lends itself to saxophone practice.
And with my bit done I
came home. In the dark. I hadn't realised how much longer the days
have got lately.
As I drove home I
wondered what I would have for tea. The decision hinged entirely on
where I parked. If it was up the road from home it would be either
KFC or kebab; if down the road it would be curry and chips.
In the end it was a
pulled chicken burrito. It was a disappointment...
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