I was about to go to bed early last night when my little dog started vigorously attacking his teddy bear. You can see what he was up below (if it works…)
I was so enthralled to
see him doing anything other than feeling sorry for himself so I sat and
watched and was a lot later to bed than I'd intended.
I slept reasonably
well, although was plagued by nightmares about working on Christmas day with a
load of old schoolfriends who had been conscripted into the NHS for no apparent
reason.
I got up shortly before
6am and fussed my dog a little. He wasn't as lively at 6am this morning as he
was at 11pm last night. I had to turn up the volume of the telly to hear "Dad's Army" over his snoring.
As I drove to work the
radio was spewing its usual blend of drivel. Mind you there was an interesting
interview with the French
Minister of something-or-other who said (quite rightly) that having voted to leave the EU Britain should go.
It's not fair on the rest of the EU to mess them about; they've got plans to
make. Personally I wouldn't be surprised to see them pull up the drawbridge on
the UK.
And there was talk
about documents have been found which allege that during the 1960s the Home
Office gave permission for doctors to give experimental drugs to pupils in approved schools to
calm them down. (For those of my loyal readers who are unaware of the term, an
"approved school" was tantamount to prison for the nastiest and most
ill-behaved children)
This was billed as a
bad thing; I can think of several evil brats with whom I was at school (in the
1970s) who could have done with being forcibly tranquilized - and I was at a
Grammar School !
I got to work, and we
didn't really have a good day. Things would have been far better had the local
farmers not been muck-spreading. A colleague was complaining about the terrible
smell of pigshit. I felt that (at the risk of being pedantic) I had to
correct her. It was actually a very good smell of pigshit, smelling as I always
remembered pigshit smelt. A *terrible*
smell of pigshit would have smelt of something quite different.
It was conceded that I
had a point, but this in no way reduced the vile odour of said pigshit.
I did my bit and came
home as quickly as I could; a new geocache had gone live along my route home. I
missed being First to Find by two hours. I was a tad miffed about that.
Again I came home
hoping my little dog would be waiting at the door. He wasn’t, but he seemed
very keen to see me, and he jumped up when I suggested he might like to go into
the garden. He had a good bark at the Koi, then ran to the kitchen and looked
hopefully at his collar and lead. I had intended not walking hm for a while,
but he wanted to go out. As we walked he tried to pick a fight with a Staffie,
and he came back seeming not in pain at all.
He ate all his tea, and
is now currently destroying his telly bear even more…
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