I had something of an
early night last night, and was wide awake at 3am. I gave up trying
to sleep, got up and had a shave and a spot of brekkie. As my dog
snored I watched the second episode of a documentary about young
girls joining the Army, and went back to bed at 4.30am. I slept like
a log until 9am.
Over brekkie I checked my
emails. I can't help but think that Amazon need to sort their web
site out. They keep sending me emails recommending e-books I've
already bought from them, and emails asking me to rate e-books I've
already rated on their website.
We then popped the lead
onto "Furry Face TM" and took him
for a walk. Both "er indoors TM"
and I had a geo-calendar day today so I suggested a cache out near
Blean. It was half a mile into some woods so I thought it would be a
good dog-walk too. As we went we saw some deer; I took a
few photos of the deer; my dog wasn't at all sure what to make of
them.
Our geo-find was
straight-forward enough; on the way back to the car we went near one
of the waypoints of a multi-cache. This one was all to do with a bus
route. Near the waypoint was a number magnetically attached to
something supposedly best seen from the top deck of a bus. I spent
five minutes stealthily trying to climb onto the roof of a bus
shelter until the chap in the house over the road asked if I would
like to use his ladder. So I used his ladder to get on to the bus
shelter. I didn't find the number I was after.
I've since been told it
was half way up a lamp post.
We came home; a certain
dog had his bath. I was amazed at how much mud was rinsed from him. A
pizza was scoffed, then we collected Jimbo from the station. "er
indoors TM" drove me and Jimbo to Wye and
abandoned us there.
We had a mini pub crawl.
Our main target was to
check oout the micro-pub in Wye; the
Barber's Arms. It's no secret that I'm quite a fan of micro pubs.
Not this one however. I've called in there in the past only to find
it closed. Today they were open but the chap running the place was
disinterested to the point of rudeness. And his beer was overpriced.
We moved on to the New
Flying Horse. The Spitfire Gold wasn't the best pint I've ever had,
but the stout is always good. After a pleasent hour slobbing in
comfortable arm chairs the lager louts arrived and (rather
politely) asked if they could put the telly on so they might
shout at the football. We took this as our cue to move on.
The King's Head wasn't
bad if only for the oyster crisps. Have you ever tried oyster crisps?
They taste just like cardboard but (strangely) in a good way.
The last port of call was
the Tickled Trout. Usually a good place for a crafty half. The Trout
Pout was an odd-tasting beer, but the Wantsum's More's Head Ale was
not too shabby at all.
"er indoors TM"
arrived to fetch us; the plan for the evening was dinner with Steve
and Sarah. It was a good plan... it was an excellent evening.
However my memory of the
evening is rather vague for some inexplicable reason...
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