8 March 2018 (Thursday) - Another Late Shift

I woke with a pounding headache. That’s twice that’s happened this week. I wonder what that is all about?
As the dogs ripped teddy bears to pieces I had my toast (three hundred calories!) as I looked at the Internet. Nothing revolutionary had happened on Facebook. Idiots idioted, trolls trolled. Mind you an ex-colleague had got guts ache, and my cousin had sinus pains. That’s the sort of thing I like from social media. Twee memes are all very well, it is in the petty details that the interest of existence lies (I like that quote!).

I had a look at my in-box. It was dull. Did I want to go work at Guy’s hospital? (No). LinkedIn suggested I might team up with people who have studied with the Open University. Bearing in mind the last studying I did with them was over twenty years ago, that would be something of a tenuous connection at best. Someone with an utterly inappropriate user name on geocaching dot com had said nice things about his experience with one of my Wherigos (from nine months ago). And I had a reminder that my fishing licence was due. I shall get that on-line again. I did last year and they never took the money. Here’s hoping…

Bearing in mind the amount of mud I found yesterday I spent a little while hunting out a pair of trousers and then took the dogs round the park. It was one of those mornings when it felt good to be alive. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, Treacle was eating something disgusting she’d found in a hedge…
We even got a “good morning” from OrangeHead who hadn’t yet met up with her posse.

We came home; Treacle hunted everywhere for "er indoors TM" and cried a little when she couldn’t find her. I spent a couple of minutes wiping the mud from my boots. My walking boots are in a right old state. A few days ago they were immaculate. There is nothing like snow for cleaning up your walking boots. But with the snow now replaced with mud the things are filthy.
I made myself a cuppa (no biccies), watched an episode of “F is for Family”, settled the dogs and went off in the general direction of work. 

I thought about going shopping. Brindle chippings and USB cables don't buy themselves. But by the time I'd watched telly and cuddled with my sleeping dogs time was pushing on.
I drove out to Kilndown where I'd planned a little geo-mission. I started off by acting very suspiciously round a fire hydrant and a telegraph pole. It was the only way to get the information I needed for some puzzles. Having obtained the numbers I needed, I sat in a nearby bus shelter pretending to wait for a bus whilst I did some sums. It wasn't long before I had turned a telegraph pole and a fire hydrant into GPS co-ordinates, and after a short walk I had two geo-successes.
I say "a short walk"; there are those who would have taken a bus to go that far. but walking is good exercise.
I tried a third puzzle. I had to go to the nearby graveyard and find a family tomb. The family in question must have been rich; they had half a dozen tombs. I wasn't entirely sure which one I wanted, so I gave up and drove on to work for lunch.

When working at Maidstone I would have McLunch at the McDonalds up the road from the hospital. Whilst McLunch is served quickly, it does come with ten thousand McCalories. The hospital canteen at Tunbridge Wells does really good food just as quickly. And probably with less calories. Chicken and bacon, vegetables, and a portion of fruit for afters came in at just under four hundred calories. That's a sizeable proportion of my daily allowance.

Having scoffed, I went in to work to find home-made cake in the tea room. In the past i would have had a couple of slices. In retrospect that is probably why I've got to lose about a third of my body weight. So I was good and didn't have any cake at all.
Instead I spent the afternoon feeling hungry. Feeling hungry is God's way of telling you that the diet is working. A shame it works so slowly, but there it is.

And in closing did you know that today is the fortieth anniversary of the first broadcasting of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy on Radio Four?
Mind you that is hardly news to any hoopy frood who knows where their towel is...

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