29 September 2018 (Saturday) - Busy Busy
Finding myself wide awake at half past three I got up and watched the first episode of the new season of “South Park”. Today’s installment was rather scathing about the seemingly prevalent attitude in America that the right to walk round carrying a gun is so important that having loonies shooting up school children is no reason to ban guns. The show was entertaining enough, but like all “South Park” I’m sure that unless you are incredibly up to date on American news an culture, mush of the show goes over your head. Interestingly the episode ended with #cancelsouthpark. After twenty-two years have they finally flogged the thing to death?
I went back to bed, and woke four hours later cuddling Fudge like a teddy bear. I made some toast and had a look to see if the world had turned again without much help from me. It would seem to have managed admirably.
Treacle came charging into the living room with a mouthful of my socks. I couldn’t be bothered to chase her. After a minute she came and waved the socks at me. When I didn’t react, she started dabbing my leg to get a reaction. Silly hound.
I spent a few minutes looking at the household finances. I get cross with the letters that the insurance people and the utility companies send me. All the information I actually need can be summarized in one sentence. So why do they send a dozen sheets of A4 filled with corporate twaddle that neither I nor anyone else will ever read?
We set off to Margate to visit the most recent fruit of my loin. "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" had had a haircut. I thought it suited him, but the haircut was a matter of some delicacy. Apparently he had told the barber he’d been given a “short back and slap”; and I was in the dog house for telling him about “short back and slaps”.
We went up to the Best Westbrook café for a spot of liver and onions. "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" kicked off because he wasn’t allowed to pour sugar into his can of Fanta, and once we’d all scoffed our dinner he threw his opened can of Fanta across the table because he could. I didn’t quite laugh out loud, but he is definitely his mother’s son.
I then spent a couple of hours painting the walls of the flight of stairs up to "Daddy’s Little Angel TM"’s flat. When she moved in the previous occupant had painted them a rather hideous bright yellow. I got a couple of coats of magnolia (yuk!) on; it has dulled the yellow if nothing else.
We came home and walked the dogs round the park. The fun fair was in full flow; some of the rides looked scary to the point of being dangerous. Whilst I’m sure they are perfectly safe, I wouldn’t go on something which hoiks you twenty yards into the sky before spinning you round.
We came home; I spent a few minutes , then played “Bubble Witch Saga” for a few minutes.
I then drove round to Chris’s to watch the re-make of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds. It was rather good…