I was rather late to bed
last night. I managed about four hours sleep. After having been wide
awake for seemingly ages I got up to find it was only 5.30am. But
being wide awake I thought I'd get some laundry on then watch some
telly. "You, Me and the Apocalypse" was rather good;
only eight hours till the apocalypse now.
I had a little look-see
on social media. Having seemingly offended the universe yesterday I
would appear to have managed not to have wound anyone up overnight.
Mind you I must admit to being somewhat offended myself. Over the
years I've inadvertently caused offence on-line several times. Why is
it that those who are so quick to take offence at what I see as
humourous whilst they themselves and their nearest and dearest post
racist and sexist claptrap? Why is it acceptable to poke fun at me
because I am fat, bald and always falling asleep? (three things I
*really* don't like)
Perhaps I'm just a little
over-sensitive? Bearing that in mind I had a little cull of my
Facebook list. It would seem that one of those who wouldn't have
survived the cull had already blocked me. Oh dear.
With brekkie scoffed I
popped the lead onto "Furry Face TM"
and took him out. I’d had reports that one of my Bethersden
geocaches had gone missing so we drove out to Bethersden for a
look-see. Sure enough it wasn’t there. Someone had trashed the hide
I’d made for the cache, so I made a new hide and put out a new
sandwich box.
As we walked back I saw
the biggest buzzard you ever did see. I say “buzzard”;
pterodactyl might have been closer to the actual fact of the matter.
We then popped up to
Bethersden church to track down a geocache I’d failed to locate on
several previous occasions. I finally found it today. I was pleased
about that: today was a “calendar day”.
We came home to an empty
house; "er indoors TM" had gone
off to the candlemonger's winder extravaganza. A certain dog had a
bath, and the washing machine worked its magic on my smalls as I did
some dull household paperwork.
First of all I had a look
at the household accounts. They’ve been worse. I did notice a
payment of nine quid to Genes Reunited. I’ve not used that website
for at least four quid so I asked the bank to stop payments. They’ve
referred it to the “disputes team” who don’t work at
weekends.
Then I had a go at the
letter rack. I found a missing Ordnance Survey map of the Ashford
area. I knew it would turn up eventually.
I found the renewal
letter for the household building and contents insurance. It was as
well it was set to automatically renew.
I found the renewal
letter for the washing machine insurance cover. On the one hand I
could pay out for a new washing machine. On the other hand for less
than the price of a round of drinks once a month I can have the nice
man come out to the house and fix whatever is wrong with the old
machine. I shall stick with what I know.
I had yet another letter
from the dentist telling me about the administrative changes they are
making that won’t affect me in the slightest.
The power company sent me
information about downloading their app. Heaven only knows why my gas
meter needs an app.
I found my HCPC
registration certificate. I might need that.
Virgin media had sent me
a ton of rubbish despite my asking them not to do so.
There was a reminder that
I needed to get my boiler serviced (from the chap who did it).
There was a newsletter
from the Howletts Foundation which went straight in the bin.
There was also a
newsletter from the RNIB which also went straight in the bin.
In fact probably the only
thing worth having out of that letter rack was the Secret Santa gift
I’d bought for next weekend’s geo-xmas-bash. I’d been wondering
what I’d done with that pressie.
Having a few minutes
spare I had a look on-line to see how my geo-trackables are doing.
For those of my loyal readers who have better things to do with their
lives a geo-trackable can be absolutely anything. You put them in a
geocache and someone finds it and moves it on (and logs on-line
that they have done so) and you can follow the progress of the
things are they go round the world.
In theory…
In practice I have eight
of the things. I say “have”; there are eight that I have
set loose into the wild. I now have no real involvement with them.
“The Homesick Alien”
has completely vanished and is actually lost.
“The Brighton Kite
Flier” is in a sandwich box near Folkestone.
“Mr Manky’s stunt
double” looks to have run out of steam somewhere in north Kent.
“The World’s
Sexiest Chip Fork” is currently in a sandwich box near Bristol.
“Oh Pooh”
looks as if it is in Devon.
“Pisces-ed as a
rat” seems to be in the vicinity of the amazingly named town of
Gaylord Minnesota.
“Clowning Around
The World” seems to be lost somewhere in Germany
In fact there is only
“Adventures in Space (and time)” that seems to be
currently active.
"Daddies Little
Angel TM"phoned. Sam-I-Am doesn't seem to
be too well after his accident yesterday. There was talk of his going
back to hospital.
And
then I took the train down to Folkestone. The train ride was fun.
there was a rather attractive young lady (with
legs all the way up to her bum and rather kinky boots)
pontificating to an
audience of admirers. She came out with some howlers: "I
always wanted a dog. I wanted a polecat"
and "if
I don't persevere I will give up".
I'd arranged to have a
weak shandy with Jimbo. We started off in the Firkin which is getting
busier and busier. After two pints we made out way to the Pullman for
a pint of "Mister Chubb". We had then planned to go
to the British Lion but it was closed so the Guildhall (and smoked
porter) is always a good back-up plan. Half an hour's catching up
with an old friend in Kipps was then followed by an investigation
into the Red Cow. I've walked past this place so many times over the
last thirty years and had never gone in, I won't go in again. And
then a farewell pint in the Park Inn before a kebab and the train
home.
Things became rather
vague as the afternoon wore on but I gave the Untappd app on my phone
a good workout....
No comments:
Post a Comment