We all slept rather well last night. I woke before
the dogs, and watched an episode of “Gotham” before they hauled their carcasses downstairs. Fudge and Pogo wolfed
their breakfasts; I had to hand-feed Treacle hers, scrap by scrap.
The dogs all went back to sleep; I left them and
set off in the general direction of Margate. I thought it better to go whilst
they were asleep rather than have them wondering where I was going. On the way
I took a little diversion into Dargate where I stopped four times to hunt out
geocaches. One was on a road sign. One in a bus shelter. One in a churchyard (nearly) and one was in a crash
barrier.
As I drove the radio was having its usual Sunday
morning religious stuff. Some vicar was banging on about the importance of
prayer in that if we want to change the world, then prayer is the way to do it.
He then said that whatever happens is God’s will anyway. What will be, will be.
He seemed to gloss over the failing in his logic that if God is going to do
whatever God wants to do regardless, then what is the point of prayer. I *really* don’t understand religion at
all. Clearly nonsensical claptrap is presented as supposed fact and we are
supposed to just accept it?
I got to Margate on the stroke of nine o’clock. Whilst "Daddy’s Little
Angel TM" fiddled about I played with "Stormageddon
- Bringer of Destruction TM". He’s got a new Game Boy
thingy.
The plan was that we
would go straight to the cash and carry; we finally set off for there at about
quarter past ten. Shopping there can be a bit of a nightmare. You’d think
they’d make the aisles big enough for the trollies, wouldn’t you? Mind you I
did laugh out loud when the most recent fruit of my loin loudly announced “I
can't hack this shit any more. I'm getting bored".
Once we’d got a car full of assorted stuff back to
the shop I collected my old step ladder and headed back to Ashford (about an hour and a half later than I’d planned). I delivered the ladder to "My Boy TM" who was
decorating. He’d made what I considered to be the schoolboy error of trying to
paint grey walls white. After four coats of emulsion the walls still looked
grey.
I came home, collected the dogs and drove up to
Mote Park. There was a works picnic taking place. Back in the day when I worked
“somewhere else” I wouldn’t have dreamed about going to a works picnic. Looking back I
wish I’d left “that place” about twenty-five years earlier than I actually did. Despite pausing
for all three dogs to have a spate of diarrhoea, I soon found everyone. I
chatted for a bit, and then took the dogs for a walk round Mote Park. I’ve not
been there for years. It is a rather good place for a dog walk. We met loads of
other dogs and we all played very nicely with them. We even met another
cocker-pug, the owners of which said they’d never seen another cocker-pug
before, and I’d wandered up with two of them.
In fact the walk was only marred by some idiot who
insisted that Treacle and Pogo were “Lancashire Heelers” and was adamant that they were not a pug – cocker spaniel cross.
Ironically if you look them up on the internet, Lancashire Heelers look rather
like Fudge.
With walk walked we made our way back to the
picnic. When about quarter of a mile away we got caught in a rain shower. The
dogs didn’t care as they’d been in the lake anyway, but I got a tad damp. Mind
you I got given some home-make cake at the picnic. That chirped me up.
We came home, and the dogs went to sleep. I got out
the ironing board and ironed through some episodes of “Gotham”. With ironing done I went down
the road to Marino’s; I had this idea that I might get cod and chops for
dinner.
It ain’t cheap.
A portion of chips cost over two quid. Back in the
day chips came in two pence or five pence portions. But the dogs liked the
fish. In fact they liked the fish today, the kebab yesterday and the KFC on
Friday. Is it any wonder they all have diarrhoea?
"er
indoors TM"
will be home soon. Things will soon be back to usual.
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