I
slept like a log last night, but I did wake with a sore left leg. I must have
really knacked it yesterday.
Note
I say “must have” and not “must of”. It seems to me that most of humanity
are using the word “of” when they
should be using the word “have”. A
trivial point, maybe, but it boils my piss.
Over
brekkie I had a look at the Internet. Not much had changed overnight. I avoided
most of the spoilers for the new episode of “Star Trek: Discovery” that was aired overnight. But only most of
them.
My
piss boiled somewhat as I read one chap’s posts on Facebook. Transmitting to
the world from his hospital bed, all he could do was find fault with the place.
I don’t know which hospital he is in. I’m sure he has every right to find fault
with the place, but my personal feeling is that if anyone is unhappy with what
they get from the NHS they should piss off and see what they get from the
private sector for the same price.
I
put the leads onto the hounds and we went for a little wander round the park.
As we walked Treacle cowered in terror from a spaniel. The woman walking the
spaniel is relatively new on the Viccie Park dog walking scene. We got
chatting; she pointed out Fudge who was fifty yards behind and doing his own
thing in a bush (as he does). She
said that she often saw that little dog on his own in the park, and she hoped
he was OK. It was rather embarrassing to have to say that he was with me. I
wonder how many other people think he’s a stray because he straggles so far
behind all the time.
We
also saw OrangeHead (on her own again)
wearing Wellington boots. I wonder if she knew something we didn’t.
As
I walked my back was really painful…
We
came home, and I did the dogs’ monthly flea treatments. Fudge has never minded
his; Treacle didn’t seem happy about it. And with fleas hopefully repelled for
another month I watched last night’s episode of “Victoria”. It was the last one of the current series. I’ve liked
the show, and I’ve found myself looking up quite a bit of what happened on the
show on the internet to see how historically accurate it has been.
I
must admit I don’t know that much history. At school our history teacher was
crap. His idea of teaching history was to have you copy out a text book; we did
this twice a week until class 4B got too much for him and he got taken (by ambulance) from the school to the nut
house. Consequently I gave up studying history at the earliest opportunity.
I
think I probably missed quite a bit in doing so.
I
set off for work. As I drove to work there was a documentary on the radio about
the total hash that Britain and the winners of the first world war made in the
discussions sorting out the aftermath of the war. I always thought the war
ended in 1918; apparently in some parts of the world it effectively dragged on
until 1923, or so those presenting the radio show would have us believe. The implication was that the winners should
have waited for the war to actually end before divvying up the spoils.
The
show was presented by the grand-daughter of someone who was on the committee
that did the actual divvying up; she
claimed that her granddad was ignored by the rest of the committee . But if
everyone had listened to her granddad, then the world today would be a much
better place.
Having
had episodes with committees in the past, I can sympathise with her. Mind you
having had a granddad myself (as well as
actually being one), I'm not sure that they are always the best of people
to listen to. (I can remember my granddad being very vociferous about opticians being
a rip-off as there are only two lenses that fit the human eye (!), and he used
to get his car serviced in Ham Street as he'd fallen out with every garage
closer to his home in Hastings. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see him
looking back at me.)
This
(the radio, not my granddad) was
followed by some lesbian comedian who was ranting about the idiocy of the hobby
of hill walking. She was rather amusing, but I felt that her sexual orientation
was a matter of the utmost indifference to me. Why did she have to keep
mentioning it ad nauseum. OK so she's
got a wife. So have I.
I
took a little diversion on my way to work. Yesterday I'd had a stroke of genius
and had solved a geo-puzzle. Today I drove to the general vicinity of Maidstone's
Park & Ride and rummaged suspiciously in a hedge for ten minutes until I
found the geocache I sought. This one was actually quite clever; it involved
playing a reverse game of ker-plunk. I was so impressed that I used this as a
reason to have a celebratory McDonalds.
I
had an entertaining time at the counter when I got there. I wanted crispy
strips. Oh dear... the girl behind the till was not impressed. "Crispy strips" is a KFC thing.
McDonalds have "chicken select".
In reality "crispy strips"
and "chicken select" are
exactly the same things, but calling it by the name used by the opposition is
fighting talk. It's like ice-creams. I dare you to go up to a Mr Smoothie ice
cream van and ask for a Whippy. I did once; I nearly got a punch up the throat.
And
so to work. We had a rather good day; if somewhat worrying. Due to some
untoward meteorological phenomenon (i.e.
funny weather) the sky was an odd shade of yellow for much of the
afternoon. We spent much of the time peering out of the blood bank's window
wondering if it was the end of the world.
I
hope it isn't. I'll let you know tomorrow...
No comments:
Post a Comment