I had a headache which lasted most of
last night; over brekkie I suddenly realised it had gone. As I scoffed my toast
I had a mooch on-line. I’d had an email from Sarah Jehi who was asking me for a
donation for God’s charity work. Or so I thought originally. It turned out she
was actually lying about giving loads of money away if only I would send her
all of my banking details first. These scams are never-ending.
Facebook was full of warnings about the
bad weather, so I set off to Maidstone (not
Canterbury any more) hoping for the best.
The warnings were right – thick fog and
minus six degrees temperature made for a rotten journey. But going up the M20
was better than going up the A28 would have been. As I drove the pundits on the
radio were ranting about how eating burnt toast gives you
cancer.
They wheeled on an expert on the subject, and were rather dismayed when the
expert said that eating burnt toast *didn’t*
give you cancer.
There was also consternation about a Trident missile test which
allegedly went wrong last year. The Prime Minister had been asked about the
matter on live TV and had refused to comment on the matter. And rightly so. A
missile test not going to plan is the very reason why they test missiles in the
first place. And what kind of a twit would broadcast the details of a possible
missile failure to the entire world?
I got to Maidstone eventually; there is
no denying that today’s journey wasn’t an auspicious start for what (hopefully) will be the next fourteen
years.
I started my new job and…
I rarely blog about work, and I’m not
going to do so today. Suffice it to say I quite like the look of what I saw and
I fully intend to go back tomorrow.
The journey home took exactly the same
length of time as driving home from Canterbury used to…
And
with "er indoors TM" out for the third night
running, the puppy has just shat on the carpet.
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