I
slept like a log last night. A couple of night shifts always has me sleeping
well for a few days. Over brekkie I saw that the fruits of my loin were trying
to out-do each other on an on-line “Can You Pass GCSE Maths” quiz. I had a
go, beat the pair of them, and found that two of the questions were offering
the wrong answer.
I
then looked at a flyer we’d received from the Hazlitt Theatre only to find
their run of “Little Shop of Horrors”
ended yesterday. I wasn’t amused.
We
then got readings from the leccie and gas meters, and sent them off to the
leccie company (like they’d asked us to).
Or tried to. The gas meter reading was unchanged since the last time I read it
and their automated system wouldn’t have any of it. I went on-line and chatted
with a robot called “Rita”. I gave
her/it my particulars (oo-er!) and I
got a message “Please allow me a few
minutes”. After a few minutes I got a message “To confirm your gas meter is not advancing with us? I will help you
with this”. “Help” turned out to
be a phone number I could call tomorrow… and then Rita thanked me for my
efforts and asked me if I’d like a SmartMeter. I thought that having one might
have solved the problem of meter readings in the first place, but what do I
know? Rita then apologised that the SmartMeter department was closed.
It
was at that point that I gave up. The leccie company then had the gall to ask
me to fill in an extremely detailed questionnaire about how Rita had done. I
declined to do so.
We
got the leads onto the hounds, collected "My Boy TM"
and drove to Hastings to see my mummy and daddy. We took the makings of a light
lunch with us, and within seconds of arriving Treacle piddled all over their
carpet. Woops.
We
spent an hour or so there putting the world to rights. My mum has been rather
ill over the last year or so; she’s had heart surgery and had half a lung
removed. She’s been having terrible troubles getting appointments at her GP surgery, and was recently told by one of the staff
that the receptionist doesn’t know what she is doing. Usually I am the
staunchest supporter of the NHS, but this can’t be right. I shall lodge another
formal complaint about the surgery in the morning.
We
then took a little geo-diversion along Priory Road where we found one of the most imaginative geocaches I’ve ever encountered
in five years of hunting Tupperware and in over eight thousand finds. We found
the cache pretty much right away, but getting the thing open took some doing.
First of all we had to log in to the nearby geo-wifi (yes – geo-wifi) and then…
I
won’t say what came next, but I will say it took some serious puzzling and
after several false starts and near-give-ups we finally had the prize in our
hands. And we got to meet the chap who’d devised the thing. I was glad we got
to meet him; he’d created a work of genius. He was pleased to meet us; he’d
never seen a trackable tattoo like mine before.
We
then called in on mother-in-law and spent a little while rummaging in her
Aladdin’s cave. Having run junk shops for years she’s now got a huge shed
filled with so many wonderful odds and ends. We found a beer stein which could
be worth a fortune; research will follow.
"er indoors TM" and "My
Boy TM" then spent an hour or so looking at old photos
whilst I dozed contentedly in a comfortable arm chair. Not a bad way to spend a
Sunday afternoon.
We came home, and after a rather good dinner "er
indoors TM" went off bowling. I did more ironing and then wrote up CPD.
CPD is dull stuff…
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