I
stopped off at Go Outdoors on my way to work last night. Pretty much
every member of staff asked if they could help me. They always do
that when I'm just browsing. When I want help, they don't come
anywhere near me.
As
I browsed I saw someone who looked incredibly familiar. I watched
from a distance and eventually realised it was a chap with who I'd
worked many years ago. Probably about seven or eight years older than
me, he'd married the older sister of an old primary school friend of
mine. The last I'd heard of him he was still living in Hastings; I
wonder what he was doing in Canterbury.
Mind
you this chap was one (of several) who'd made my three years
of working at the Royal East Sussex Hospital an absolute misery. He
hadn't noticed me so I made a point of not letting him notice me.
Mind you I'd recognised him after thirty-odd years, I doubt he would
have recognised me.
I
got to work; I was having a sulk. For all that I really don't mind
the night shift when I get there, I wasn't keen on actually going
and doing it. But it's not a bad game. I can have the radio turned to
Radio 4 and Radio 4 Extra all night long. I don't think anyone would
put up with that if I wasn't alone.
The
radio droned on in the background as I worked. There was a
documentary about Hilary Clinton, there were tales of Dick Barton.
And there was something which frankly amazed me. In the more remote
parts of Malawi some
men are paid to be "Hyenas".
People who live there believe that immediately following the onset of
their first period, young girls must have sex with a "Hyena"
or calamity and disaster will befall the entire family. And (for
exactly the same inexplicable reasons) newly widowed women must
have sex with a "Hyena" before they can bury her
recently deceased husband. And all these sexual encounters must be
without condoms or they "won't count"
There
was an interview with one such "Hyena". Needless to
say this chap had recently had an HIV test and was HIV positive. He
was quite open that he didn't want this fact made public as it was
bad for business.
FFS!!!
This is the twenty-first century. Do people *really* believe
in this crap?
With
work done I made my way home. I saw the house next door is up for
sale - the one with the decent neighbours. That's a shame.
I
set the washing machine loose on some whites and then took "Furry
Face TM" for a little walk. We wandered
rather aimlessly, ending up at the vets where I popped him on the
scales. He's not gained weight since the last weigh-in, but neither
has he lost any. His weight remains constant at almost eleven
kilogrammes. Which is at least two too many.
Once
home I hung out the washing and saw the nice lady next door. She's
expecting another baby and the two-bedroomed house is too small for
them. Mind you they like the area and are only moving round the
corner. I wonder who will be next in that house?
I
spent the day in bed... another night shift awaits...
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