I
didn't sleep well. Many years ago I worked for a boss whose initials were
"D.G." Many was the time we
pondered over what the "G"
stood for. I think the fellow was called "Derek Godfrey", but many suggestions were made; none of which
were very complimentary. He died a couple of years ago, but last night he came
back to my nightmares telling me his name was "Dead Guy".
I
woke in a cold sweat.
Over
a rather early brekkie I watched another episode of "The Job Lot" when I had another flashback to where I used to
work. One of the characters was
portrayed as rather nasty, bone-idle and workshy. In fact it was uncannily a
dead ringer for someone else from that workplace of years gone by.
Neither "er indoors TM" or either dog had stirred whilst I'd been pootling about. I left them
all fast asleep and went on a little geo-mission before work. As I drove the
pundits on the radio were talking about the ethics of pre-natal
gender determination. It is possible to tell whether an unborn child is
male and female *very* early in
pregnancy, and in certain cultures female fetuses are being aborted because
there is far more kudos in having a son than there is in having a daughter.
Can
you believe it? We are in the twenty-first century, not the dark ages. Aren't
we?
The
pundits then played an interview they had recorded with the Prime Minister. She
was talking about her plans for Brexit and (bless
her) was doing her very best to polish a turd. Perhaps history will judge her better, but as
Prime Ministers go she is in the wrong place at the wrong time. The nation
voted for Brexit... or (to be more
precise) the nation had a choice between staying in the European Union or
"something else". They
nation voted for "something else"
and Mrs. May is trying to come up with a "something else" that she hopes will suit everyone but
seemingly suits no one.
She
didn't come over very well on the radio. Love her or loathe her, Margaret
Thatcher commanded respect. Mrs. May comes over as a bit of a twit. She's
probably a very nice person, but she's not up to the job. But (as I said) she is in the wrong place at
the wrong time. No one would want to be Prime Minister right now. Once Brexit
has actually happened there will be no end of people after her job trying to
clear up the mess she never made.
Poor
cow.
I'd
driven out to Hadlow this morning as there was a geocache there that hadn't
been found for eighteen months. In order to find it you needed to solve a
puzzle; the clues to which come from other geocaches that have been archived
for over a year. Consequently it's not surprising that no bugger has found it
for eighteen months. I solved the puzzle ages ago (on March 22nd 2015) , but only realised last night that
I still had the solution.
Pausing
only briefly to rip a hole in my trousers I soon had the thing in hand. Happy
dance.
Another
resuscitation cache – bearing in mind I only really got into these a month ago,
my
resuscitation list is rather impressive… If you are impressed by that sort
of thing… Which I suspect most people aren’t.
As
I drove on to work I pulled up in a lay-by to pick up another geocache. Just as
I was finishing the secret geo-ritual a car pulled up and the driver wound down
his window and stared at me like I was the shit on his shoe. I smiled at him (in a rather sickly way) until he cleared
off, then I went on to work.
I
did my bit at work, and came home via Bowen’s Field where a friend had been gardening.
She’d excavated a dozen large rocks from her garden and wanted rid of them. I
can use them as part of a garden project I have in mind. All I had to do was hoik
them into the back of my car, drive them home, pop them into the back garden,
given them a zap with the pressure washer, and off I go.
How
easy it is to type that… I had help with the “hoik them into the back of my car” and I just about managed to “pop them into the back garden” before my
back gave up.
I’ll
do the rest later… I wonder if I have any decent trousers for work tomorrow. There’s
a great big hole in this pair.
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