Bearing
in mind I live at least ten miles from the closest coast I can’t help but
wonder why there were so many seagulls squawking outside at 5.30am this
morning.
Over
brekkie I watched the second episode of the current season of “The Last Ship” which is so plainly an
American propaganda show in which our heroes save the day from swarthy
foreigners. It is in many ways a modern-day version of Noel Coward’s “In Which We Serve” (for those of us old enough to remember that film).
I
then sparked up my lap-top as I do every morning. You never know what has
happened in cyber-space overnight. Admittedly little usually happens but last
night might have been the night in which something did. For the large part, it
wasn’t.
I
set off to work; as I walked up the road I could hear someone’s burglar alarm
making a noise. Do these burglar alarms actually achieve anything?
Nice-next-door was whinging the other day that their cats set off their alarm.
As
I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing the author John le
Carre. In all honesty it was something of a waste of air-time. It could have
been a good interview *if* I could
have heard a single word that John le Carre had said. But all he did was mumble
and mutter.
He
was followed by some vacuous windbag spouting drivel on “Thought for the Day”. The BBC really should fact-check the vacuous
windbags they allow to spout drivel on the “Thought
for the Day” bit. This woman was trying to gloss over the terrible hurricanes that have recently
devastated the Caribbean as being as
much the fault of science as of her God. Listening to this woman would have
been funny were she not actually being serious. She was quite clear that a
nuclear explosion only kills humans; she was under the impression that all
other life is oblivious to radiation. Why do they let these people on the
radio?
I
got to work and did my bit. I had my first formal appraisal in my new job
today. It went well; the boss seems happy with me. I was pleased about that,
but six years ago I had an appraisal which went equally well only a few weeks
before getting the sack for (supposed)
utter incompetence.
With
my bit done I came home and walked the pups round the park. We met Mowgli; a
fourteen-week old sprocker spaniel. He seemed friendly
enough; I wonder if we will meet him again. I hope so. He was one of the very
few dogs that Treacle played with (rather
than running in terror).
We
then slobbed in front of the telly watching this week’s episode of “Bake Off” whilst scoffing dinner. And
drinking expensive wine…
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