This
morning’s episode of “Vanity Fair”
took a welcome turn for the best as Beccy cranked her bosom up to full power.
After all, isn’t that what period dramas are all about? George was certainly
impressed, but Amelia wasn’t having any of it. Perhaps if more people took the
moral stance (like Amelia) the world
might be a better place; albeit one with less bosoms heaving.
Mind
you, for an episode in which all the menfolk were supposedly in an army en
route to the battle of Waterloo there was an awful lot of balls and dancing and
frivolity going on.
For
once there was very little of note on Facebook, but the nice people at MyFitnessPal
dot com had emailed me to say that doing sit-ups is
bad for my back. That was useful to know; periodically I have spells
of doing sit-ups. I had this theory that they might shift my gut even though
they never have in the past.
I
also had a message from someone who was demanding to know when I would replace
the geocache I disabled last night. As I walked past it with the dogs yesterday
evening I saw the thing clearly laying on the floor. It was broken so I’ve
fetched it in. I’ll sort it in a day or so; when I get round to it. I wouldn’t
mind *quite* so much had this
self-appointed geo-policeman found more than one geocache. One – that’s all
he’s done, and he’s demanding I get on with sorting this one. Bearing in mind
there’s over a hundred within an hour’s walk…
I’ve
also been told that my account with Munzee dot com has been put into “inactive” status as I’ve not Munzed for
eighteen months. Hunting for film pots under rock is sad enough but I’ve
decided to draw the line at scanning bar codes on lamp posts.
I
quickly drove round the corner to Bond Road to replace that iffy geocache, then
set off to work. As I drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing the
deputy leader of the Labour party. They wanted to interview the leader himself,
but Jeremy Corbyn was either too busy, too important or too afraid to put in an
appearance. The chap they interviewed had a fair stab at covering up the
failings of the Labour party and tried to make light of calls for a general
strike to topple the government. He didn't really help himself by admitting
that he didn't really know where Jeremy Corbyn was or why he wouldn't appear on
the radio. To be fair to the chap he tried to make the best of a bad situation,
but with the current state of the Labour party, you can't polish a turd. Which
(as a life-long leftie) is a great
shame.
I
stopped off at Aldi where I bought that almond butter I didn't get yesterday. I
also got a job lot of bog roll, and we had to wait at the till for five minutes
whilst I got the manager's approval before I could buy the stuff. In the same
way that you need manager's approval to buy beers, wince, spirits and tobacco,
you also need it to by toilet roll in Aldi. Apparently. Or maybe it was just me
- possibly they thought I was the sort of person that might run amok with a job
lot of bog roll.
If
any on my loyal readers know just how I might run amok with a job lot of bog
roll please let me know; I'm intrigued by the prospect of doing so and would
like to have a go.
I
got to work and did my bit. During the day I had an email; the hospital is
talking of forming a choir. Was I interested. I quite fancied the idea of
standing in the hospital foyer squalling Christmas carols at a
disinterested public at the top of my
voice, so I've signed up. Mind you the idea might have fallen at the first
hurdle as there is talk of a five quid subscription to the thing. Personally I
remain hopeful, if unwilling to pay that fiver.
Will
anything come of it? Time will tell - it always does.
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