I
watched "The Job Lot" as I scoffed brekkie. Whist I quite like the
show, one of the characters in it strikes a chord. Over the years I've worked
in a few places where is is a member of staff who is utterly self-centred,
universally despised, and utterly oblivious to the feelings of anyone around
her. There is such a character in this show; her behaviors and mannerisms are *so* like those people I've known who
have made a misery of the lives of so many others. The writers have
deliberately put this person into the show - are these obnoxious toxic people
everywhere?
Fudge
got up just as I was about to go to work. He stood at the foot of the stairs
and looked pathetically at me, so I carried him up to the bed where he settled
and immediately went back to sleep. I wish I could have done. With the vagaries
of my work pattern this was my sixth consecutive day at work, and I was feeling
the strain this morning.
Managing to avoid the
bin men who were strewing recycling bins everywhere I set off to work. As I
drove the pundits on the radio were (by some odd co-incidence) talking about
recycling. It turns out that there are as many rules and regulations about the
recycling of stuff as there are councils to make them. Apparently there is a *lot* of confusion about what can be
recycled and what can't, and what goes into what bin is becoming one of the
leading causes of domestic arguments nationally. It ain't in my house....
knowing that I'd get it wrong I leave that sort of thing to "er indoors TM" .
There
was also a lot of talk about Brexit. The rest of the European Union have given
Mrs. May's "Chequers"
Brexit plan the bum's rush; the sticking point seems to be the Irish border.
Which we all knew it would be. No one really seems to have any way forward now.
On the one hand no one wants a hard border in Ireland. On the other hand no one
wants no border controls at all.
I
can't help but feel that if Mrs. May's minority government wasn't being propped
up by a handful of opportunistic bandits from the Democratic Unionist Party (to
paraphrase the rest of the Irish politicians) then this might be a far less
sensitive subject.
I
got to work where I'd hoped for a rather good day. I'd decided I was going to
have a good day, and sometimes (but not
always) the day goes to plan. We had aa rather good day; it was a shame
that we had a “brown alert” just on
going home time.
Eventually
I got to come home. I walked the dogs round the park (with both wearing illuminous collars). As we walked u the road we
saw a young couple having a blazing row outside their house. It ended as the
young lady stormed into the house and slammed the door. The chap pulled out his
phone and I slowed down so I could be nosey. But I had to hurry off to laugh
when I heard “will you stop shouting –
all I wanted was a blow job”.
We
had intended going to Chippy’s birthday bash this evening… by the time we’d had
dinner it was half past ten. Where did the evening go?
No comments:
Post a Comment