Another terrible night’s sleep thanks to
the restless puppy. Over brekkie I watched the fourth episode of “Jamestown” in which bosoms again heaved.
As I watched the heaving so the washing machine did its thing despite "er
indoors TM" having somehow punched its dial in (literally).
When the telly finished and the bosoms
had heaved their last (for this episode)
I hung the washing out after wasting five minutes trying to find what the puppy
had done with my garden shoes.
I then sparked up my lap-top. The photos
of yesterday’s fishing tip had elicited quite a bit of interest. I had hoped
that overnight a new geocache might have popped up on the way to Maidstone, but
nothing had, and with no emails of note I set off to work.
As I drove to work the pundits on the
radio were speculating endlessly about the shape of the future government. Now
it is clear that the Prime Minister’s gamble has failed the general consensus
was that she should resign, but there was no mention of a successor (yet).
It will be Boris Johnson, won’t it?
There was also talk about how the
Conservative party could form a minority government. There is precedent; it has
been done before. This talk of an alliance with the Democratic Unionist Party (Christian crackpots) isn’t quite the
done deal it appeared to be yesterday. Mind you if it does happen then that
would be one up the bum for democracy, wouldn’t it? According to Wikipedia the DUP only got just
under three hundred thousand votes; about half the votes that the Green Party
got, and now it looks like they will be in power.
I got to work where I did my bit on a
rather busy day. I eventually managed to make a getaway, and once home I got
another fence panel painted.
"er indoors TM" came home from
shopping, and we took the dogs for a short walk. As we walked we met Lorraine
who was an assistant cub scout leader with me many years ago. It was good to
catch up for a bit.
Treacle enjoyed the walk; you wouldn’t
believe she’s supposedly still convalescent. Fudge needed carrying for a bit,
but he still managed a roll in fox poo in Bowen’s Field. As we walked we met a
young lady whose breasts were clearly trying to escape from her unfastened
blouse. As a spectator sport I found it rather entertaining.
The Bat arrived, and we went up the road
to the British Rail Bowls Club for what tuned out to be a rather awkward
evening.
Sarah was having her fiftieth birthday
party at the British Rail Bowls Club. I wasn’t going to go as there would be a
lot of members of the astro club there. I’ve given up with the club as one of
the leading lights (who was once a dear
friend) has made his contempt for me very public. I’ve heard how much he
detests me from a range of sources (including
family members) and I’ve walked away rather than continuing to offend by
just existing. I was told this chap had asked if things would be awkward if he
attended (you think ?!) and he had
decided not to show. If he had shown up I would just have gone home again.
It was good to meet up with people from
the club, but there were a couple in attendance with whom I’ve never really got
on. Following a rather petty disagreement a few years ago (which most people would have forgotten in five minutes) they’ve not
spoken to me since, and last night they made a point of blanking me in front of
friends on several occasions. They’ve been doing that at club meetings for
years and it is rather embarrassing. Especially as pretty much all of the
membership know what is going on and no one is prepared to do anything about
it.
A lot of people were asking when I was
coming back to the club and saying how it wasn’t the same without me, whilst
looking sheepishly at those to whom I was invisible. I must admit I’ve taken
the thing to be a popularity contest, and I’ve admitted defeat with good grace.
But “Access
All Areas” were playing; as bands go they put on a good show. Usually. However
the British Rail Bowls Club has a noise meter openly visible on the wall; when
the volume reaches ninety-five decibels for any length of time the electricity
to the stage is immediately cut off. This makes things rather difficult for any
kind of music (live or recorded) as
the meter reads between seventy-five and eighty decibels when people are just
in the hall and chatting.
As the band played there was a continual
stream of hall staff running out to shush the band. Matt the singer did his
best to keep the noise down, but when the audience joined in, the meter hit the
one hundred level. The management then pulled the plug because Matt had the
audacity to try to make light of it.
I can’t help but wonder why these people
offer halls for hire when they don’t want people in there…
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