I was woken by the puppy chewing my hand
shortly after 4am, and (try as I might)
I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. I came downstairs and watched the
funeral of a parrot in “You Rang M’Lord”
and Sebastian’s descent in to alcoholism in “Brideshead Revisited”.
As I watched I had to turn up the volume
as my dog snored. On Wednesday evening and yesterday morning I was worried sick
about him as he would hardly leave his basket. Last night he spent most of the
evening charging round the living room playing chase the puppy.
Silly dog.
With telly done I had a look on the
Internet (as I usually do). There had
been some activity on Facebook overnight, but not a lot really. I had a few
emails; one of praise from geocaching dot com (some people like my wherigos), one from YouGov about a survey I
won’t complete, one about a gig at the church in the town centre, and an offer
of a “Stargazing Skylight”.
Apparently a Stargazing Skylight” is
achieved by some chap speckling your ceiling with luminescent paint. It doesn’t
show until you turn the light out, but when you do it is as though you are
outside and you can see the stars. The chap sending me the email had this plan
I might sell it (on his behalf) to
the astro club. He can think again.
I set off to work. As I drove the
pundits on the radio were talking about change to British law regarding whether
or not to resuscitate the elderly and infirm when in hospital. A particularly
fraught subject with no right or wrong answer… but I will say that British law
was particularly cruel in forcing two years of suffering on to the end of my
grandmother’s life.
My piss boiled at the next item of news. It turns out that “the regulator” (whoever that might be) isn’t happy with the amount of money that BT
spends (or doesn’t spend) on the
nation’s internet infrastructure. I wondered what planet “the regulator” was on. For all that I agree that the nation needs a
decent internet infrastructure that is available and useful to all, such
socialist claptrap was abandoned thirty years ago when a greed-driven
government sold off British Telecom.
I had a vague plan to go to a geo-meet
in Ashford this evening, but several friends were doing a charity fire-walk in
Tenterden, and having been offered a lift I thought I’d go watch the fire-walk.
However as the day wore on events, changed my plans. (For all that I would like to have supported my friends) So I went
back to the original plan and went to McDonalds for the geo-meet.
Half a dozen (or so) Dutch chaps had come to Ashford for a weekend’s geocaching,
and had arranged a meet-up this evening. Talking with like-minded people is
always good. I was rather amazed to hear they’d specifically come to Ashford to
walk my letters and numbers cache walk.
I was planning to do a little maintenance there in the coming week; I gave them
replacement caches and some instructions, and now I have a day free on
Wednesday.
I only intended to be at the meet for a few
minutes; after an hour I made my excuses and came home.
In closing we have something of a
disaster. Fudge has eaten Treacle’s teddy bear. He did that whilst she was licking
my head dry after my shower. I expect I shall get the blame even though it wasn’t
me that ate it…
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