I woke feeling full of beans and raring to go only to find
it was only twelve minutes past one o’clock. I tried to get back to sleep but
woke about every twenty minutes to see what the time was.
Yesterday I clouted my head on the boot of "er
indoors TM"’s car boot. It was *really* sore when I eventually emerged from my pit this morning.
When I came downstairs my smart meter monitor thingy said
we’d used sixty pence worth of power before six o’clock. How is that possible? I’m
not at all happy with my smart leccie and gas meters. By ten o’clock last night
the two meters between them had clocked up five quid’s worth of energy used.
That works out to a monthly bill of getting on for a hundred and fifty quid. Before
we got the smart meters I was paying a fixed rate of ninety quid a month. And
now nearly sixty quid extra; an inflation rate of sixty-seven per cent.
There was a minor disaster as I sat down to watch “The Good Place” over brekkie. The
Chromecast device (crucial to watching
Netflix) couldn’t connect to the house network. After a lot of farting
about I pulled the thing’s plug out, re-booted it, and all was fine.
I quite liked episode six of “The Good Place”.
I then had a look at the Internet. Facebook was first. I
know I shouldn’t; I get so wound up. I found two particular posts rather ironic
this morning.
A few of us were effectively bullied out of a social group a
year or so ago, and the bully’s best mate was posting all sorts of
anti-bullying memes.
And then the one who had spent the last couple of years
posting up anti-cruelty stuff featuring animals in distress had the arse
because others were doing the same.
With no emails overnight I went to get dressed. There was a
minor disaster; the shirt I bought from Matalan on Saturday didn’t fit. It had
been made so that the arms of the wearer were expects to emerge about ten
inches below the shoulder, as opposed to at the shoulder (where arms usually emerge).
I put the shirt in a bag to exchange (again) later.
I drove into the town centre to get petrol. The filling
station on the ring road is still cheaper than anywhere else.
Today the amazingly attractive grannie was nowhere to be
seen. Instead there was a spotty oik who had never heard of Cadbury’s
mini-eggs. I asked if he had any Cadbury’s mini-eggs; he pointed at the
Cadbury’s crème eggs. I explained what Cadbury’s mini-eggs were; he pointed at
the crème eggs and said they were the same. I explained that Cadbury’s
mini-eggs were about a tenth of the size. He said they weren’t, and in addition
to my petrol he tried to charge me for a Cadbury’s crème egg.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were all
a-twitter about the senior general of the British army. General Carter was
making a speech about how the Russian army could kick the British Army’s arse in a fight. Is anyone *really* expecting the Russians to
invade?
There was also an interview with the chairman of the UK
Independence Party. UKIP is in disarray; its leader has made several bad
judgement calls recently (according to
the pundits on the radio) but despite a vote of no confidence in him, he
refuses to go.
The Chairman of UKIP was asked if the party even had a role
in British politics any more; he failed to make a convincing case.
I got to work, and had a rather good day. We had cake
again. I came home via Matalan where I got a replacement for my replacement
shirt. I shall try it on in the morning.
"er indoors TM" boiled up some
scran then went bowling. Treacle made herself comfortable in Fudge’s basket;
Fudge and I curled up on the sofa and watched telly. The second episode of “Britannia” was rather good (despite the geological incongruities)
and I watched last week’s episode of “SAS:
Who Dares Wins”.
Much as I like that show, I can’t help but feel that a lot
of it is staged…
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