After a couple of hours
asleep I was woken by Fudge’s whining. Having refused to go out for a tiddle at
a sensible time, he was bursting for a wee at midnight. I sent him out, and the
other two followed; not for lavatorial purposes, but for a a quick bout of
their favourite game of “silly beggars”. Fudge tiddled, Treacle and Pogo
ran round the garden snarling at each other.
After five minutes we all
went back to bed.
I got up eight hours
later.
I made some toast and had
a look at Facebook. A friend was talking politics and was questioning the Green
party’s stance on nuclear power. On the one hand we all lead a lifestyle which
needs rather large amounts of power, and nuclear is (currently) pretty
much the only credible way to provide it. On the other hand when it goes bang,
it goes bang big-time. When Chernobyl went bang in 1986, part
of my job was to monitor radiation levels in the air conditioning filters at
work as we used very small amounts of radio isotopes (for measuring vitamin
B12 in human blood).
A month
or so after the accident the levels of radiation we were detecting were *way*
above reportable levels.
Nowhere
is safe when these things go up.
Seeing that it was dry I
put the leads on to the dogs and we went out. I drove down to Orlestone woods.
The dogs can run off the leads for much longer there than when walking round
the park. There are far fewer other people there, and those that are there seem
to be far more understanding of the peculiarities of the canine mind.
We had a good walk. We
only met two other dog walkers, and we had no “episodes”
Bearing in mind I’d need
money later we came home via the cash machine in the co-op and got stuck in the
car park for fifteen minutes whilst a lorry tried to get into a space which
everyone (but the driver) could see it was never going to fit.
We came home; the dogs
had a bath to try to shift the mud they’d accumulated. And with mud hosed off
they had breakfast. I had this plan that a walk would work up the appetites of
those that can be fussy feeders, and those that can be travel-sick would be
better eating after the drive. It was a plan that seemed to work.
I
ran round with the Hoover, wrote up some CPD, played a little Mahjongg, and got my glad rags
on.
"My Boy TM"
and Cheryl came round and drove us all down to the Queens Head in Icklesham
where we met more family and had a rather good dinner. It was good to catch up;
I scoffed far too much. I
took a few photos; perhaps I might have taken a few more.
We skipped dessert;
we said our goodbyes and came home. I went back with "My Boy TM"
and Cheryl. They’d had a little disco party for Lacey last night, and having spent
a couple of hundred quid on food, not a single child had eaten a thing. I had a
cuppa and ate far too much pudding, then came home. I *really* don’t
like leaving the dogs for long (even though they just sleep)
I
spent the evening in front of the telly with a stomach ache…
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