As I had my
morning root around the internet I saw something that was rather upsetting. For
many years I have been a staunch supporter of the nearby Capralama
Farm reindeer centre. There are all sorts of allegations
about animal abuse having taken place there. I wonder if there is
any truth in this?
I also signed
an e-petition about restricting the sale of fireworks. Something needs to be
done about them. Back in the day firework were pretty and family-friendly. Now
there is nothing to see on the ground-based ones – they are just noisy
explosions. Admittedly the rockets can be pretty (the ones that don’t scream
as they fly, that is) but having them launched from lager bottles held in
the hands of pissed teenagers is hardly a safe way to carry on, is it? Perhaps
there *is* something to be said about restricting fireworks to organised
displays; if only the fact that organised displays don’t start after ten
o’clock at night and go on till after midnight (disturbing us all with the
noise of the fireworks and the resultant fire engines and ambulances).
I also had an
email. Some French people had found some of my Wherigos and had written a
rather extensive “found it” log (not something I do!) but it was
all in French. So I called up Google Translate and… Bearing in mind Google has
tracked my every movement for years and knows exactly where I go, whatever
possessed it to translate from French in to Spanish?
I took the
dogs round the park. Again there were no small schoolchildren. (Apparently
primary school starts half an hour earlier these days). We had a rather
good walk; Fudge wasn’t overly recalcitrant for once. We saw OrangeHead’s posse
gathering by the playpark awaiting the arrival of their leader. The dynamics of
her posse is quite amusing; her “chunky little friend” hasn’t been part
of her gang for some time. The woman with the Scotties who used to be part of a
rival gang of walkers has joined her, as has (of today) the bloke with
the Red Setter.
As we came
home we bumped in to Paul. We had a good chat and put the world to rights.
Bearing in
mind the ongoing roadworks on the M20 I left for work rather early. As I drove
the radio was playing "Women's Hour". I listened to the
program, much as it winds me up. I realise that *some* men are evil
creatures, but we're not all bad. It is a shame that those being interviewed on
that show don't seem to realise that.
The program
started with an expose of the sad plight of young women working in the Houses
of Parliament. Andrea Ledsom was
saying how middle-aged male MPs often employ young women for their nefarious
entertainment, and was banging on about how there is no human resources
department in Westminster to sort this sort of thing out.
Of course
there isn't.
MPs employ
their staff directly. There is no major employer in the palace of Westminster.
That was glossed over by the presenters. Heaven forbid that facts should defend
the male menace.
There was
also talk in the growth industry of pre-parental counselling in which women pay
counsellors good money to talk through whether or not they should try for
children. You couldn't make this up! Don't these people have friends or family
they could talk to? Why pay some stranger to talk to them about such a personal
matter?
Is the show's
target audience *really* "Belinda-no-mates"?
I'd set
myself a couple of geocaches to try to resuscitate before work. I eventually
got to my first target. Google told me I'd got there an hour quicker by not
taking the motorway but it was academic anyway. With several "Did Not
Find" logs I rather thought I wouldn't find this first target, and I
didn't. But I did find the next one. Happy dance.
As I was
walking back to my car from this second cache my phone beeped. A message from
someone who was unable to find a cache I'd hidden. It seemed obvious that he
was in the right place, so I suspected the thing had gone missing. Film pots
don't stay put under rocks. They go walkabout. I suggested he might like to
feel free to replace it. He replied that he had nothing with which to replace
it and seemed surprised that I might suggest he would have.
It sometimes
winds me up that so many people are so quick to get entertainment from hunting
out film pots under rocks, but so few are prepared to put anything back into
the game.
I drove in to
work where (once I finally found somewhere to park) I had a rather good
lasagna for dinner. I then got on with work. There was quite a bit to get on
with today, and I was glad when the night shift rolled in.
It was a
shame the motorway was closed when I came home…
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