I didn’t sleep very well last
night. I’d been rather uncomfortable for much of yesterday. That lasagne I had
at lunch time hadn’t been sitting well, and it was with something of a sense of
blessed relief that I came out of “Trap One” this morning.
Over a bowl of granola I watched
last night’s episode of “Still Game” then I sparked up the lap-top.
Nothing much had happened in cyber-space overnight so I did some more of my
on-line botany course before setting off to work.
As I walked
out of the house, not-so-nice next door was scraping the ice from her
car. She glared at me as though I was the sh*t on her shoe. I walked fifty
yards up the road to my car which had no ice on it. The weather up our road can
be very localised.
As I drove
towards Pembury I listened to the drivel on the radio. The pundits were
interviewing a head teacher of a London school who was describing the dire
straits her school was in. Because of lack of funding for the school, this head
teacher was doubling up as a cleaner and as a dinner-lady. Someone from the
Department of Education had sent the radio presenters a letter claiming that
school funding was at an all-time high. The head teacher being interviewed
spoke of a letter signed by seven thousand head teachers claiming that school
funding is woefully inadequate. The pundits had done some research and had come
up with official figures which did show that that school funding was at an
all-time high. And they had also come up with other official figures showing
that funding of schools was now considerably lower than it was ten years ago.
"official
figures", eh?
The pundits
on the radio then wheeled on Jeremy Hunt to discuss the ongoing Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe case.
Basically this woman's been in prison in Iran for several years for allegedly
trying to topple the Iranian government. Or so the Iranian Government say. She
says she was being a journalist. I can't help but feel that Iran would be a
place to stay away from, and her case would illustrate that sentiment admirably.
To be honest
I didn't really pay that much attention to what was being said; Jeremy Hunt
boils my piss too much. Anyone who is dependent on him for help must be in a
bad place.
The "Thought
For The Day" made me laugh. The vicar that they had on this morning
banged on about how he always admired magicians when he was a child because
they made the impossible look real (even though it wasn't). He said that
he wanted to be a magician, but he became a vicar instead because the magic was
better. He seemed to gloss over that although the claims of vicars are far more
preposterous than those of magicians, they are all equally just make-believe.
I broke my
journey just outside of Goudhurst. A new geocache had appeared there since I
last drove along the A262. I got to the place where my new geo-app said to go,
and sure enough there was the little plastic tub. Laying on the grass at the
base of a post with absolutely nothing at all to cover it.
Regular
readers of this drivel may remember that last Thursday I was less than
impressed with how a scout group had thrown a plastic tub at a fence in
Bilsington. Today's cache had been thrown down by the same scout group. I've
ranted before about how scout groups shouldn't be playing the hiding Tupperware
game...
I got to
work, and did my bit. It never fails to amaze me how much quicker my phone goes
flat when I'm working in Pembury. I suppose that is a feature of working in the
basement. At tea break I saw that "er indoors TM" had posted a picture onto Facebook. The
"Terrible Twins" had found a stash of Easter eggs at home and
all seven Easter eggs had been scoffed. This was rather worrying in two ways.
Firstly chocolate isn't good for dogs. And secondly where had "er
indoors TM"
found to stash so many Easter eggs without me knowing about them?
I was
somewhat delayed getting home. Whenever I drive home from work I have Google
Drive on so it can tell me of any delays. This evening it diverted me through
all the back roads round Horsmonden because of road works on the A21. This was
probably for the best. I came home to find "er indoors TM" with mops and
buckets at full power. She’d come home to a house full of dog sick. Treacle and
Fudge were both fine but Pogo was looking very sorry for himself and seems to
be amazingly thirsty. As well he might be. It is no secret who scoffed all the
chocolate.
The vet said that we should take him in
to be checked. But when they said that all they would do would be to look at
him and bill us a hundred and sixty quid, I asked what were the danger signs.
The vet said to watch for him being listless and lethargic. He does look very
sorry for himself, and seems to be on quite the sugar rush. He’s drinking
constantly and has eaten his tea. The vet agreed that we can monitor him, and
if he takes a turn for the worse then we should take him in.
Did I ever
mention that I didn’t want any dogs…
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