As I left work I turned
on the radio in the car. Apparently Britian contributes one seventh
of all the money that is spent
worldwide in overseas aid. One of the pundits on the radio was
expressing conccern at just how much money goes overseas. Apparently
Britain is paying aid money to India and China; both of which have
enough money of their own to finance their own space programs And of
those countries which actually do need help it was alledged that they
get so much money given to them that they cannot properly account
for where the money actually goes.
A representative from
Oxfam was then wheeled on who said he felt proud that we as a nation
give so much, but when challenged he couldn't deny that our money
shouldn't be subsidising those with enough to send rockets to the
moon, or that there really is no accounting for much of the money.
What worries me most is
that this fact is being bandied about as a valid reason for Britain's
leaving the European Union even though our overseas aid donations is
nothing to do with the EU.
There was also
consternation at the boss of the oil giant BP being paid nearly
fourteen
million pounds per year when the company is losing money hand
over fist.
Apparently sacking him
would make the company even less profitable. Funny old world...
I didn't go straight
home; I went to the local hospital for the results of my recent
sialogram. The specialist asked how my lump had been since I was
sialogrammed. Funnily enough the lump has been a lot less
troublesome. It turns out that injecting and extracting the X-ray
opaque dye is often enough to wash out the troublesome stones. This
seems to have happened to me; I've now been discharged from the
clinic.
Mind you my jaw aches at
the moment so I took the opportunity to have the maxillo-facial
expert give it the once over. Somehow I've strained a muscle in my
gob.
I then took my dog for a
walk. "Furry Face TM" antagonised
the scotties and the spaniels that he usually antagonises, and
because I wasn't paying attention I found myself tangled up with
OrangeHead's posse. They were (for once) unusually civil.
Chunky Little Friend's dog was in a dog push chair. The poor pup has
had major surgery. We chatted for a while about forcing dogs to rest;
it was quite nice to be accepted by the main momma of the Viccie park
dog world for once...
It was only a shame that
my dog then tried to hump her dog.
We came home for a spot
of brekkie, then I went to bed. After listening to my dog shouting at
every passer-by I came down, picked him up and sat him at the foot of
the bed. With him finally settled I then slept like a log for most of
the day.
I'm off to another night
shift now...
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