There's no denying that I
hadn't been looking forward to last night's night shift. I don't know
why; I quite like the freedom I have at work at night being on my own
and being able to work (within reason) at my own pace doing my
own thing. And I certainly like being at home with my dog during the
week (which goes hand-in-hand with night work). As it happened
the shift went well; rather quiet really,
Perhaps I shouldn't have
the radio on at night; its constant stream of drivel does wind me up.
Last night's stream of drivel certainly did. There was a major tirade
about the state visit of the
Chinese premier. On the one hand there was a State banquet; pomp
and circumstance. On the other hand pretty much everyone sees the
Chinese premier as Satan incarnate, holding him personally
responsible for all sorts of human rights atrocities and for the
collapse of the British steel industry. Prince Charles refused to
show up for the bunfight, and everyone who was even remotely civil to
this bloke was effectively being accused of collaboration with the
enemy.
With such international
squabbles going on, very little air-time was given to something of
major importance. If the proposed
sugar tax does go through (the intention is to combat the
rising tide of childhood obesity) the co-co pops monkey will be
banned together with Tony the Tiger and Snap, Crackle & Pop.
I must admit that in the
early hours I gave up with Radio Four and listened to ELO albums on
You-Tube for much of the rest of the night.
I came home, collected
"Furry Face TM", drove out to the
garage where we left the car (for its service) and we walked
home through the drizzle. We went via the pet shop where I got my dog
a bone for his brekkie. As he munched his bone I had my morning
ablutions and took myself off to bed.
I had a rather vivid
dream that "Daddies Little Angel TM"
was shrieking at me, and woke to find that I was sitting up in bed
with my phone to my ear and "Daddies Little Angel TM"
was indeed shrieking at me.
When she paused for
breath I went back to sleep until I was again woken with the
obligatory "your windows computer am send the virus what is
the windows password" phone call.
When Liam phoned with a
whole load of lies about his PPI-related scam I saw red and told him
to stick it up his arse. (I get grouchy when I'm tired). He
didn't like that and he got rather lippy with me. I wasn't having any
of it and told him that seeing how he had my phone number he probably
has my address and so if he'd like to come round I would shove it up
his arse for him. He hung up then.
Finally the garage phoned
with a list of all the failings of my car. The rear light unit is
split. It has been for some time. Various bulbs and wiper blades need
changing. The tyres and brakes are good for a few thousand more
miles. All rather routine. And some good news; one of the rear seat
belt clasps hasn't been working for some time. I was expecting that
to be a costly job. It turned out that there was a five pence coin
wedged in the works. I said I would come and collect the car; they
said it wasn't ready. They were just phoning me for.... well, I have
no idea why they were phoning me. I'd taken the car there for them to
fix it. If they wanted a conversation they should have had that when
I dropped the car off.
I looked at the clock.
I'd only been in bed for two hours. Why won't people let me sleep? I
tried to get back to kip but it wasn't happening. I gave up trying
to sleep and got up for a rather late brekkie only to find we had no
bread for toast.
Corn flakes just aren't
the same.
I assumed that as the
garage had phoned then they were about to start on the car and that
it would be ready soon. I assumed wrong. I then wasted the afternoon
waiting for the garage to phone. Eventually they did; they were
worried because they couldn't find the log book. It wasn't where I
told them it was.
Seeing how it was raining
I rang the taxi company to get a lift to the garage. They said they
would be about half an hour. I walked; it was quicker.
Once at the garage I
produced the log book from where I said it was, and then waited for
far too long for them to fill in the log book. I paid up, went to
drive away, and immediately an alarm went off about a failure in the
parking brake. So I went and got the nice man from the garage. He
took the car back to the workshop and after forty minutes they
discovered that they had stuffed it up when moving the car. They
tried to imply that the problem was my fault because the car is a
Renault and they are different to Volkeswagens.
I had planned to go to a
geo-meet in Northfleet this afternoon. By the time I was back in
possession of a working car I was an hour and a half too late. So I
came home, gave myself a haircut and sulked until "er indoors
TM" came home. She was just as stressed as
I was, having just road raged some normal person whilst trying to
park.
Over a rather good bit of
dinner we watched Saturday's episode of "Doctor Who"
. In previous years I've been rather disparaging about the show.
I've watched it because I want to like it even though I didn't.
I think I'm quite warming
to Peter Capaldi.
And
finally today was "Back
to the Future Day".
I'm sure everyone's seen the hype. I've only actually seen the "Back
to the Future"
films once. It was on Saturday 4 February 2012, and what I remember
most is that haivng watched all three films back-to-back we came out
to the car to find heavy snow. Reading my diary for that day I see
that "I'd
heard mixed reports about them (the films) during the week, but was
pleasantly surprised to find that I actually liked
them".
Perhaps
I should give the films another go because that certainly isn't how I
remember them.
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