I slept well despite
another hot night. Over brekkie I checked out social media and (as
it so often does) my piss boiled. Having struggled to understand
what several people were writing about (on such diverse topics as
immigration and thunderstorms), on a couple of utterly unrelated
websites (geo-photography and small dogs) I thhen found
whinges about how people should be more tolerant of poor grammar and
spelling in social media.
Whinges like that annoy
me. Bad spelling is bad enough; it shows people can't spell and can't
be bothered to press the F7 button. But when people's posts are
simply incomprehensible I can't help but wonder why they posted
anything on social media in the first place. Is it *really*
that hard to re-read what you've written (to see if you've written
nonsensical gibberish) before pressing the "send"
button?
I seriously considered
posting "Im think socal meedier culd improv effort from
ussrs. U agre?" on my Facebook page to make a point, but in
the end I couldn't be bothered. Probably in much the same way that
those who aare boiling my piss can't be bothered to check what
gibberish they are posting.
(And yes... I know all
about dyslexia. People who suffer from that condition make the
efforrt with the written word).
The early rain soon
stopped and I spent a little time in the garden. It was rather
frustrating. The strimmer's strimming cable kept breaking off inside
the spindle of the machine meaning I had to disassemble it about once
every twenty seconds. The gadget I got to join lengths of hose for
the pressure washer leaked so much as to make the thing unusable. At
every single footstep I tripped over "Furry Face TM"
who was determined to get in the way as much as he could.
I then started to repair
the broken tent poles of our tent. It was only after I'd fixed them
that I realised I hadn't sawed the new sections to the correect
length, and that I hadn't got a hacksaw with which to do any sawing.
I gave up at this point
and had a shower.
We had advertised our old
coffee table on the "Get Rid of your Old Rubbish"
Facebook page. Someone in Singleton wanted it so I drove it over to
them. They recevied it without a word of thanks, and (narrowly
avoding being run off the road by a Royal Mail van) I came back
home to get the blame for the Dyson not working (again).
We went down to
Folkestone for the afternoon. Operation Stack seemed to have
finished, and after a rather good steak and cheese baguette in
Subway I got a hacksaw from Screwfix Direct. I'd never been to
Screwfix Direct before. I shan't be going back again either. I think
its fair to say they couldn't care less about my custom. What's one
small hacksaw to them?
We spent much of the
afternoon with "Daddies Little Angel TM"
and her tribe. Charlie's obviously been playing Dungeons and Dragons
at some point, and we played a live-action variation of the game this
afternoon in which Sid the pug was the princess. I saved the day by
casting a "bird seed of death" spell.
We came home, walked
"Furry Face TM" round the park and
then I put the hacksaw to use in sorting out the tent poles. It was
at that point that I found the hacksaw I'd actually bought last time
I'd broken a tent pole.
"er indoors TM"
then set off to a birthday party. I went to McDonalds where I met
Steve and Leanne. A McFlurry and a McMilk shake went down well, then
we went down to The Star where "Access
All Areas" were playing.
Perhaps I'm a tad biased
but they weren't too shabby at all...
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