I woke rather early this
morning from a particularly vivid dream in which I had recently moved
to a rather salubrious part of town called "Posh B*stard
Estate" and had been forced to make emabrassingly polite
small talk with a whole load of chinless wonders. It was horrible.
On waking I could hear
next door's baby gurgling and people singing "Happy
Birthday". One of the sad things about the fruits of my loin
having grown up and left home is that birthdays don't start before
5am any more. Mind you one of the sad things about having a
Patagonian Tripe-Hound is that most days seem to start before 5am.
Said Patagonian
Tripe-Hound was sitting with me as I scoffed my brekkie. He was half
asleep; dozing contentedly (as he does) when suddenly and for
no reason he leapt up and ran around barking. I often wonder what
goes through his head.
Talking of what goes
through heads, for some reason the song "Shaddap
You Face" was stuck in my head this morning. It didn't seem
to want to go anywhere. So I posted it to Facebook and took "Furry
Face TM" for his morning constiutional.
Yesterday I mentioned I wasn't feeling on top form; this morning I
was certainly feeling a bit under the weather as we walked. It was
probably just as well that nothing much of note happened this
morning.
Shortly after coming home
the phone rang. The phone display said "International"
so I knwo it was someone trying to con me. I answered the phone fully
intending to waste their time (I do that) but the person at
the other end of the line merely shouted "Carling"
half a dozen times and then hung up. I wonder what that was all
about.
As I left home I had a
look at the humungous geocache which sits in my front garden. At the
weekend Gordon told me the lock didn't work. I had a go; sure enough
the lock seemed jammed.
This is a "clever
cache" it took loads of brain power to devise and cost me over
forty quid to actually create. It's been found less than ten times
and is now broken. I shall squirt the lock with WD40 but I suspect it
is not going to come off unless I use bolt cutters.
Again the more effort
that goes into making a "clever cache", the shorter the
thing actually lasts.
As I drove to work there
was an interview on the radio. The pundits were talking to some
supposedly
famous historian who was discussing his biography. He referred to
one stage of his life as "bleak" because at the time
he had small children. That annoyed me; small children is the best of
times. So I turned the radio off and sang along to Ivor Biggun's rude
songs instead.
Braving the traffic jams
I finally arrived in Folkestone where I spent a little while with
grand-son before making my way to work. Work wasn't especially taxing
today; in fact it was rather dull. But eventually it was home time.
Once home I considered
taking "Furry Face TM" round the
roads. But he's had a good run today. I'll take him out in the
morning when we can see what's going on...
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