For once I slept right through
until the alarm went off. Over a bowl of granola I watched another episode of “Bonding” then had a look to see what
the Internet had done overnight.
I had a friend request on
Facebook from “Sam Angling Baits”. Now I can’t help but wonder why Mr Baits wants to be my pal. Surely
it isn’t a thinly veiled ruse to try to sell me something? I’m also wondering
why this chap is clearly allowed to use a fake name when other people aren’t.
I’ve not accepted the request – I have quite enough people with whom I can
argue already.
My eyes then rolled when I was
reading some of the comments about the death of Paul Darrow (who played “Avon” in “Blake’s Seven”). Those who’d met the chap were posting on various Facebook pages
about their experiences of him. Those who’d openly admitted they’d never met
him were trying to call everyone else racist for no reason that anyone could
determine.
Social media is so often just
one big fight. Such a shame.
I had a look at my emails – a
new geocache had gone live. But it was on the drive to Pembury, not Maidstone.
And it was a long way down a private drive. I will have a look-see there on
another day.
As I drove to
work the pundits on the radio were again talking about President Trump's state
visit to the UK. Apparently the Queen told him off at some posh dinner last
night? It would seem that this state
visit that has been put on for his benefit is turning out to be more trouble
than it is worth. Pretty much nothing else (at all) was mentioned on the radio. If nothing else it made a welcome change
from Brexit drivel.
I did my bit
at work. Half way through the afternoon I volunteered to go move some stuff
about. No one else wanted to do it, I could take my time and have a bit of a
skive (I made no secret of that), and I could check my emails. This afternoon at four o’clock
geocaching HQ were going to announce who’d been lucky enough to win the chance
to hide
a virtual geocache. The last time they did this was something of a debacle,
and I sulked. I’d determined that if I was one of the lucky winners this time,
then that would be nice. And if I was unlucky then I would accept it with good
grace.
Four o’clock
came and went. I had no email, and had a serious moody.
Mind you as I
walked to my car an hour and a half later my phone beeped. I had been lucky – I
had got a virtual reward. To coin a phrase, I was like a cat with two cocks.
I came home, and together with "er
indoors TM"
we went for a little walk to have a first recce at where I’m going to site my
virtual reward. I’m rather over-excited about it. I must admit I’m a tad miffed
that "er indoors TM" didn’t get one, but she says that
she is *very* pleased that I got one; I’m told that if I’d not been
lucky the sulking would have been unbearable…
Where’s that bottle
of wine…
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