My
piss boiled this morning as I looked at Facebook as I scoffed my toast. Figures
were being bandied about concerning the levels of crime in various parts of
Ashford. I’ve seen these sorts of figures before, and like all statistics, they
can be misleading.
Basically
the crime figures for Ashford claim that the central parts (where I live) are akin to Dodge City
whilst the outskirts are a utopian paradise. But… the central parts include the
town centre and the outlet centre, so all the shoplifting crimes get lumped
into the statistics for our area. And the town centre has all the pubs and
night clubs so we get all the aftermath of the drunks staggering home (towards the outskirts of the town)
pissed as farts in the small hours. On occasion I’ve followed some of these
drunks at a safe distance (as have others
I know). Having thrown their pint glasses at a front door in Christchurch
Road these drunks then wander back to their nice homes in Singleton and
Godinton and Repton (all the places with
supposedly low crime rates) where they behave themselves. It’s basically an
old concept called “not shitting on your
own doorstep”.
I
did consider rattling the South Ashford Community Forum’s cage about this, but
I decided not to. Do I want to get involved with setting up a local
neighborhood watch scheme? Not really; it would just be one more big argument.
These things always are.
I
also read that Julian May had died. She wrote
some rather good books over the years. It’s a shame she’s gone; now I’ll never
meet her, and she won’t be writing any more.
I
popped the leads onto the dogs… I often type that. It sounds so easy: “I popped the leads onto the dogs”. I’m
now trying something different at lead time. I’ve got a little sick of how it has
been. Up till recently I’ve put Fudge’s collar and lead on him first; the whole
time he is pulling his head trying to have a pop at the puppy who mocks him
when he has his collar put on. And then when it is time for Treacle to have her
collar put on she snatches something she’s not allowed to have and runs off and
hides.
I’ve
decided that from now on the dogs will sit nicely at lead time. So far it’s not
working.
We
did our usual circuit of the park. Fudge tried to fight with a bus and two cars
and the puppy nearly ran under a street-sweeping thing that was clearing up in
the park. We also managed to upset one of the normal people who wanted to
stroke the dogs; neither dog wanted to be stroked. We didn’t meet any of the
uual dog-walking suspects. I wonder where they all were.
Once
home I ran round with the hoover; how can we generate so much mess? I then set
about doing the ironing. Dull, so dull. To ease the monotony I sparked up the
telly. I started off with last weekend’s episode of “The Last Ship”. There are
two more episodes of this season to go; I’ve stuck it out for so long it would
be a shame to give up with the show now (tempted
as I might be). And then I watched episodes of “Red Dwarf” on Netflix until the ironing was done.
I
made myself some toast for lunch and scoffed it whilst watching another episode
of “Gotham”, then pulled the living
room curtains (so the dogs wouldn’t bark
at nothing) and took myself off to bed for the afternoon.
After
a couple of hours I got up and watched more “Gotham” then microwaved some dinner which I scoffed as the dogs ate
theirs. Even more “Gotham” and now I’m
off to the night shift.
It’s
been a lonely day today… I spent about an hour arguing with "er indoors
TM" this morning, I spent two minutes listening to some
nutter in the park grumbling that the dogs wouldn’t let him stroke them, and I
spent a few minutes messaging (not
actually speaking though) with Jose.
It
looks like my biggest conversation of the day will be asking for a McFlurry
when I stop off on the way to work…
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