I would have slept *so* much better had the puppy not been
quite so restless. I suppose I should be grateful that she waited until six
o’clock before marching all over me incessantly.
I gave up trying to
sleep after an hour or so. It was getting warm anyway.
Over brekkie I saw that
absolutely nothing of note had happened on Facebook overnight. But I had an
email telling me of a new Tupperware box which was hidden in a box near
Ramsgate. I must admit my piss boiled a little. The chap who had hidden it had
claimed to have created a “geocashe”,
not a “geocache”. A subtle different.
Only one letter, but that one letter is the difference between being correct
and looking like it was rushed out by someone who couldn’t be arsed to press
the spell-check button. I wish those responsible for reviewing new film pots
under rocks would pick up on these matters. There is a series of caches across
the Romney Marsh the descriptions of which read as though they have been
written by an illiterate eight-year-old who was in a hurry. Hunting sandwich
boxes in the wild sounds lame enough as it is. It really doesn’t need help to
look even more sad.
I’ve ranted about this
abysmal spelling and grammar before. Every time the dyslexic brigade are up in arms
claiming that I’m being unfair to dyslexics. I’m not at all. I’m having a go at
those who clearly haven’t taken two minutes to read what they have written.
Whilst waiting for "er indoors TM" to get sorted I popped
to B&Q for compost. Over the years I have had so many problems with the
attitude of the staff at the Ashford branch that I would rather drive across
town to their competitors, but with road works making half the town
inaccessible this was not possible today…
I
got to the checkouts at about 9.15am with a heavy trolley filled with bulky
items. As I arrived, a member of their staff who was bearing the badge “Lisa” pulled out a barrier and told me
the till was closed. I heaved my trolley to the next till only to watch this
Lisa open that till and usher half a dozen other people up to it. When I
complained she told me that she didn’t realise the store was busy.
Ironically
as I paid, the girl on the checkout ringed the bit on the receipt which gave
the website I could use to register a complaint.
I
came home and did just that.
We got the dogs
organized and, bearing in mind that the park is often full of joggers on a
Saturday (there’s an organized event of
several hundred of them), we drove out to Great Chart. I hid a series of
geocaches out there a couple of months ago and had heard that the recent spate
of wet weather had done for them. So we had this idea that we could sort out
any problems and walk the dogs at the same time. Of the eighteen caches I have
out there, only two had any real issues (one
damp log; one laying out in the open). But I took the opportunity to add
more paper to each one; having a maintenance run is always a good idea. If
nothing else, it gives the mistaken impression that I actually do maintenance
from time to time.
I had been expecting
the terrain to be rather boggy and muddy; it wasn’t. The fields had dried out,
and we had a rather good walk. We liked looking at the sheep and the lambs;
both dogs liked eating their poo. Ripper’s wood was very pretty with bluebells;
Fudge vanished on a little mission of his own. Twice.
We came home via the
co-op for a Belgian bun for lunch. Four hundred calories – over half the
calories we’d burned off during our walk. I then took myself off to bed for the
afternoon and (despite one nuisance phone
call from some ambulance-chasing lawyers) slept rather well.
After three hours I got
up and (still feeling half-asleep) I
watched several episodes of the Channel Four show “Four in a Bed”. The idea is that four Bed & Breakfast owners
compete, but the show is never fair. Take today’s contestants. There was a
little old lady who was letting out bedrooms in her house, two country pubs,
and a country hotel with a staff of forty. Was it surprising that the huge
place won?
I’m off to the night shift
now…
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