I didn’t get out of my pit until nearly
9am this morning. That is quite unheard of. Mind you the nasal polyps which
regularly block my right snozz had abated somewhat. It is amazing the
difference that being able to breathe can make.
I had a look-see on-line over brekkie.
There were some political rants about the state of the NHS on Facebook; the
more militant of my colleagues were spreading the doom and
gloom.
I chose not to; the chap posting didn’t have any answers to the NHS’s problems.
In fact when he said that the NHS should be reformed I couldn’t help but feel
he’d rather missed the point. The NHS doesn’t need to be reformed. It has been
reformed ad-nauseum. The NHS needs to
be left alone so that the reforms can actually take effect. The NHS has had far
too many reforms. And just as any specific reform starts taking effect it all
gets changed again. Schools and all public services are much the same. Too much
change and to little continuity.
Not much else had really happened
overnight, which was probably for the best. I wasted ten minutes playing tug o’
war with my dog over a scrap of material (he
likes that game) then we took both dogs for a walk to test the double-ended
elasticated lead. It has been no secret that up till now dog walks with the
puppy have been something of a disaster; both dogs operating completely
independently has made the walk a chore rather than a joy. But having them on a
joint lead so that they are only a couple of feet apart (at most) has improved walking beyond all recognition. Neither
straggles anymore; the one which is moving onwards seems to drag the straggler
with them. I shall use the double-ended thing more often.
We went round the park. Both dogs were
released from the lead as soon as was possible, and the walk went well. The
puppy still wants to jump up at people, but she is getting better. And she
played nicely with several other dogs. I say “played nicely”; “didn’t run
away in terror” might be a better description. but it is a step in the
right direction.
We got the dogs home and settled, then
drove down to Hastings. On the way we stopped for obligatory geo-reasons. There
was only really one cache on the via-Rye route left for me that looked easy to
get at so we stopped at what looked to be a suitable lay-by. The traffic did
somewhat hare past us, but we found the cache. The co-ords weren’t quite as
spot-on as they might have been but I saw the cache from some way away. I saw
it some four feet up the tree when the given clue said it was only one foot up
the tree. I struggled a little to get the paper log out of the narrow neck of
the bottle, and something had stained the inside of the container green. I
wonder what that was?
It wasn’t far from that lay-by to the
village of Icklesham. There is a good pub there; The Queen’s Head. I’ve been
there several times over the last few years and never been disappointed. We *could* have booked a table in advance,
but in my experience if you just turn up at any pub at Sunday lunchtime they
are very reluctant to turn trade away. Instead they will offer you a table on
the understanding that they will need the table free within the next hour. That
always suits me.
We had an excellent roast dinner, and a
pint of rather good stout. Not many pubs do stout at all; let alone on the hand
pump. The Queen’s Head is always good for a pint of beer. For what it’s worth
they have been in CAMRA’s “Good Beer
Guide” every year for the last thirty years.
With lunch scoffed we went on to
Hastings and the Conquest Hospital. (I
was once turned down for a senior management position there, you know).
Father-in-law was still resident on one of the wards. We soon found him; he
seemed rather chirpy and we spent a fun hour or so trying to get his portable
telly-thing (provided by the hospital)
to work. If it wasn’t broken when we started, it certainly was by the time we’d
finished.
I must admit I chuckled at the old boy
in the bed next to father-in-law. This chap had obviously seriously hurt his
wrist whilst in hospital. The doctor was asking what had happened. The old
fellow was insistent he had no idea what was wrong with it; it had just
mysteriously swollen up that morning. When the doctor left, the chap’s son came
in. The old boy then explained to him (very
loudly) how he’d trapped his arm in the side of the bed when he fell over
earlier, and how he thought the bone was broken, and how useless the doctor
was.
It would have been good to have visited
my mummy whilst we were in the area, but time was against us so we came home
for the dogs. They got their tea; I got Christmas pud for my tea, and then I
got left “home alone” with the puppy.
Again…
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