I slept like a log. I did wake up feeling rather breathless
at five o’clock, so I got up, emptied the dishwasher and had a shave, and went
back to sleep for another three hours. I got up and had a quiet few minutes
looking at the Internet.
There was an interesting discussion on one of the groups I
follow. “Galactic Hitch-hikers” is *supposed* to be a Facebook group about
the woks of the late Douglas Adams. I say “discussion”;
it was more of a petty squabble. Supporters of Donald Trump posting on that
group were asking about the cost of health care in the UK. From what I can work
out, people in the UK and the US individually pay *about* the same in taxes (perhaps
a little less in the USA), but no one in the UK has to sell their house or
go crowd-funding to pay for medical bills.
I made the mistake of saying so.
Most of the UK-based people in the group agreed with me,
but some of the Americans took offence. The trouble is that many Americans find
the entire concept of the National Health Service to be (as has been described to me several times) “commie-pinko”. To the American mind the idea of anything being
provided through tax is abhorrent. There is far more merit in paying for things
when needed rather than through regular payments (for some inexplicable reason). I can remember talking with an
American scout leader who told me that their scouts paid for each badge when
awarded. When I explained ours were funded from a weekly subscription she was
horrified.
I also saw that a new geocache had gone live two miles
south. I considered charging after a First to Find until I realised it was two
miles south of work (not home) and
consequently actually seventeen miles north.
And then peace was shattered when "Stormageddon -
Bringer of Destruction TM" came downstairs with Treacle and
Pogo (who have become his devoted
attendants). He sang his song about bumholes and refused to eat his
breakfast. It was difficult to determine which wound his grand-mother up the
most.
Eventually we
got ourselves organised and took the dogs up the park. We had a mostly good
walk up as far as the dog beach. I made a little You-Tube video
up to that point. And then for no explicable reason "Stormageddon -
Bringer of Destruction TM" went totally hysterical and
screamed pretty much the entire way home. Once home the hysteria passed, and he
was fine. What on Earth was all that about? I suspect *if* he wasn’t wearing such a thick coat on a warm day and *if* he’d eaten a single meal whilst he’d
been with us, things might have been different.
We took "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM"
back to Margate; I slept all of the way. Once in Margate we spent a few minutes
with "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" before heading off
to Herne Bay. Geocaching dot com had sent me an email telling me about one of
the best geocaches in South East England being there. We drove over and found a
rather average sandwich box. Admittedly the hide was rather good, but I’ve seen
it done better. There was supposed to be a trackable in the cache; there wasn’t.
The thing was in someone’s garden but no mention was made of the fact. The chap
who hid it gave up on the game two years ago… OK – I’m being picky, but geo-HQ
had taken the trouble to point this one out to me.
Mind
you on the plus side I did get to give my new geo-app a trial run and it worked
rather well.
We
went round to see "My Boy TM" for the evening. Some
fathers visit their sons out of a sense of paternal devotion or familial love.
I went round to get my birthday pressie and because I’d been promised dinner.
I
got a rather good fishing rod (which I
shall put to the test tomorrow), and we scoffed far too much curry. Having
stuffed myself to the point where I could barely move I collapsed on the sofa and
we watched telly until I could get up again.
I’ve
loaded up the car, I’ve set the alarm… I’m hoping for great things from
tomorrow’s fishing trip…
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