After a rather busy night shift
I made my way home. As I drove down the motorway the Secretary for the
Environment Michael Gove was being interviewed on the radio. He was one of the
leading lights in the run-up to the Brexit referendum three years ago, but now
he seems to have pretty much vanished into obscurity. He was talking about
today’s Parliamentary vote on the Prime Minister’s deal which was
comprehensively rejected a few weeks ago. He was most insistent that there not
be a second referendum even though that was effectively exactly what Parliament
was doing today.
Once home I said hello to "er
indoors TM",
loaded the hounds into the boot of my car (they
seem to have latched on to the idea of being boot-dogs) and drove down to
Woodchurch. A geocache went live there last night and no one had claimed the
First to Find.
There is this etiquette when logging a First to Find that
you make out that you “happened to be in
the area” or was “just passing”
or “had an appointment nearby”. None
of those applied to me today. I went to Woodchurch deliberately to try for that
First to Find. And I got it. I was rather pleased about that.
(It since turned out
that I beat two other people by minutes)
I’d had my fun; it was time for the dogs to have theirs. We
all went back to the car and drove to Orlestone woods where we had a very good
walk. I was able to let the dogs off of the leads before they jumped out of the
car, so we had none of this dragging-me-up-the-street
nonsense that spoils so many walks. We wandered round the woods; the dogs all
sniffled and snuffled as we went. We met one other dog-walker and the encounter
passed off without incident.
I took a few photos as we walked.
Orlestone woods is only a quarter of an hour away in the
car; I might just drive the dogs down there more often rather than go round the
park; if only for the sake of my nerves.
We came home, and I marched all
the dogs to the bath. All had been swamp-monsters in the woods and so all
needed a wash. Some more than others. Some just needed a quick hose-down of the
paws; some needed the entire lower half scrubbing.
And with dogs and myself hosed
down I went to bed for a while.
I woke four hours later and put
some washing in to scrub. I scoffed toast, then ironed shirts. As I pootled
about I put a film on Netflix. “Solis” was… Well, I won’t sugar-coat it. It was utterly crap and I turned it
off half way through. For science-fiction to work it needs believable
characters. And for all that the science *is* fiction, it has to be
plausible. Falling into the sun makes for a good story-line *if* you are
near enough to the sun to fall into it. The starship Enterprise travelling at
warp speed would have got to the sun slower than the protagonist in “Solis”.
Instead I watched the last
couple of episodes of Ricky Gervais’s “After Life”,
"er indoors TM" came home and
boiled up a very good bit of scran. We washed it down with a bottle of plonk
whilst watching “Bake Off”. And with
al the plonk washed down I had a go at the last of the current bottle of port.
I say “current bottle
of port”; there’s one or two ready in reserve…
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