Over brekkie I saw a new
geocahe had gone live in Lenham. That rather suited me as today waas
a geo-calendar day. I resisted the temptation to go chase the First
to Find; instead I took "Furry Face TM"
for a walk found the park.
As we walked I noticed
that white heron has flying around again. I've not seen it for a
while. There were also blue tits in the trees. There's been a lot of
those about lately. My dog was rather well behaved this morning; not
getting into any trouble at all. That made for a pleasent change.
WIth dog walked I drove
up to Lenham to get my calendar cache. It was an easy find, and I had
been right not to go chasing the First to Find. Those who actively
hunt FTFs had been there before I'd even seen the email about it.
I then made my way back
to Ashford. As I came round the tank roundabout some twit in a Volvo
XC90 (who had been in the wrong lane) cut me up then did an
emergency stop, got out of his car and started threatening me for
supposedly insulting him. As he got back to his car I photographed
his number plate (just in case). He drove off and I followed
as I wanted to go down Chart Road anyway. At the first roundabout we
reached he made a point of doing a complete circuit so he was then
behind me and he then followed me at a distance of a few inches.
He eventually lost
interest and drove off in the direction of Clockhouse. I know his
registration number; I shall give it a few days then go look for his
car and post a dog turd through his letterbox.
I then collected "My
Boy TM" and we went round to Brookfield
cafe for second brekkie. I've not been there for a while; I'd heard
the place had gone downhil. But today's fry-up was rather good.
We then made a start in
the back garden. Two fence panels had blown down. On closer
inspection two panels had been blown to destruction and the post
between the two had snapped. We then consulted the nice lady next
door to get her input before we ploughed on. She said she was of the
opinion that it was our fence. I thought it was our fence. I *hoped*
it was hers, but I thought it was ours. She said she was happy for us
to fix it however we saw fit. I'm sure she will regret giving us
carte-blanch in that way...
The nice lady went
indoors and we reviewed the fence that I had now inherited. Two
panels were in fragments. Another had been bodged together some time
ago by the last people who lived next door. And five others looked as
though they would fall apart if anyone was to fart in their general
direction.
So we got the wreckage of
the broken bits of into the car (that took some doing) and
took it all to the tip. We then came back via B&Q where we
priced up the job in hand. I was very surprised to find that it will
cost me about a third of whhat I'd been expecting to have to pay. But
rather than rushing the job we planned it out (wasn't my idea!).
We thought we'd affix a temporary dog-proofing for now (to keep
"Furry Face TM" contained)
and do the proper fix when we had time to do so. Pausing only briefly
to get some dog-proofing and a sexy green hammer (with thirty five
per cent extra) we then returned to the back garden fence.
We still had a couple of
hours spare, and the obvious first job was to remove the concrete in
which the broken fence post had been embedded. So we dug. And dug.
And heaved and strained. "My Boy TM"
managed to get a rather serious cut to his hand and I've done
something to my back. But after two hours we have exposed a lump of
concrete which is about a foot square by about two foot deep. We can
rock it, but we can't lift it.
With time running out we
put a plank of wood over the hole in the ground and put some
temporary fencing across the hole in the fence. I then drove "My
Boy TM" home.
"Daddies Little
Angel TM" currently has my drill. I've
told her I shall need it back on Monday so's we can use it to drill
the concrete. "My Boy TM" says
that if we drill it to b*ggery we can then twat it to destruction
with my sexy new hammer. I'm lucky in having a son who understands
all the technical jargon.
As I'd messed around
digging I'd got rather grubby so I popped my dirty clothes in the
washing machine. I can't have done a very good job of emptying my
pockets because when the machine finished I flooded the kitchen. I
then messed around with towels whilst extracting several dog poo bags
from the washing machine's filter.
I watched some drivel on
the telly, and then went round to Steve and Sarah's. A bit of
Chinese, then an evening spent playing cards. You can't beat a bit of
poker...
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