I slept well, I didn’t emerge from my pit until after seven
o’clock. That was something of a result.
Over brekkie I had a look at Facebook. Not much had changed
really. A chap I know had posted up an article from the New York Times
basically saying what a sorry state the UK was
in. Financially
knacked, a navy unable to even patrol our own coastline, self-imposed Brexit
disaster looming… The article didn’t actually have any “news” in it; it effectively re-iterated what I hear on Radio Four
every morning as I drive to work. But it was rather worrying nonetheless. To my
mind mainly because it was presented as news. The average Brit has this naïve idea
that Britain still has an empire and rules the world. As a nation we’ve lived
on past glories for so long.
I checked my emails; I wound myself up again.I have
mentioned how the experts at geocaching HQ set up an algorithm to choose the
world’s best one per cent of geocachers and to reward them with a virtual gift.
I’ve set up an alert to let me see these virtual gifts as they appear (or any within a thousand miles of home) and
from that I can see the profiles of the world’s supposed top one per cent of
geocachers. All I can say is that I don’t understand what these people have
done to warrant singling out. I can name a couple of dozen people living
locally who have contributed far more to the hobby than the three about which I
was told this morning.
I look at the Internet every morning to hopefully start the
day off well. This morning was rather depressing.
I got the leads on to the dogs, and we scrounged a lift
with "er indoors TM". She took us half-way to work
with her and dropped us off by Waitrose. I’d planned a little walk home via a
couple of geocaches in the area. We found the first one easily enough and were
on the way to the second when my phone beeped. An email notification of a new
geocache… not three hundred yards from where we were. We hurried off, and were
soon within a metre of the thing (according
to my phone), but I couldn’t see it. Whilst the dogs scrubbled in leaf
litter I widened my search, and after fifteen minutes I found it exactly where
we first started. It had been hidden rather well.
We came home via the park where Treacle ran in terror from
a Dachshund, a Bassett, and pretty much every other flavour of dog. Fudge on
the other hand either ignored then or argued with them. But both dogs wanted to
spuddle in the river.
Once home I went round the living room with the hoover,
then tried to have a look at my accounts. I say “tried”: I keep the accounts on my desk-top PC upstairs. The poor PC
was slow to the point of being unusable. I (eventually)
got the thing going and managed to copy the excel spreadsheets out. I shall do
the accounts on my lap-top from now on.
I’ve really got to go through the PC and copy out anything
else I might need. Despite the best efforts of McAfee’s various attempts to
clean it up, a combination of the thing being so slow together with the
wireless network’s inability to broadcast through the brick walls have
basically made it useless.
Yesterday I bought a Cornish pasty to eat whilst I was
fishing. I scoffed it for my lunch whilst watching an episode of “Red Dwarf” on Netflix, then went to bed
for the afternoon. I slept as best I could despite Treacle’s restlessness, and
after three hours sleep I got up and watched an old episode of “Upstairs Downstairs” on the drama
channel in which ‘er ladyship was
having it away with a young airman. Rather shocking… however having seen the
show so many times I know he croaks in the next episode.
"er indoors TM" should be home
soon. I hope so. My tea won’t cook itself. Once I’ve scoffed that I’ve got to
go to B&Q, then off to work. On the way I’m going to have a look for that
geocache in the bus stop by Sainsbury’s in Aylesford. I’ve been told *exactly* where it is…
And if there is time I shall get myself a McFlurry…
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