When I got to work last night, not having been at Maidstone work for a
while I checked the "secret Santa" box. The pressie with my name on was the biggest one. And seeing
how I wouldn't be in during the daytime today (when the pressies
get opened) the late shift who were going home and my night
colleague all agreed I could open my pressie. I got a bazooka-thingy which
fires tennis balls up to thirty metres. I'm hoping for great things from this
with regard to keeping the dogs entertained. Fudge has never been big on
chasing tennis balls (he prefers to eat them) and chasing anything is too energetic for Sid, but I have high hopes
for Pogo and Treacle.
As the day wore on I saw that
the chap for whom I’d bought the “secret Santa” gift had posted a photo of it on Facebook and seemed to be happy with
it. I was pleased about that – buying a pressie can be difficult… or (to be precise) buying the pressie
is easy – buying something that someone wants is difficult.
In the past I would traditionally
do the night shift of the day before Christmas Eve. "er indoors TM" and the children would go down to Hastings,
and I would follow on the train on Christmas Eve morning. My brother would meet
me at the train station, and we would drink ourselves silly before going round
Sainsburys in a drunken frenzy buying all sorts of stuff we didn't need or
want. We really should do that again some time.
The early shift arrived and I
set off. As I drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing various members
of the legal professions who were all rather concerned about how difficult it
is to convict murderers. Witnesses aren’t overly keen to squeal people up for
fear of retribution from the friends of the accused. You’d think the legal
professions would have investigated this years ago…
I got home and took Fudge, Treacle and Pogo out. "er
indoors TM"
was collecting "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" and "Stormageddon
- Bringer of Destruction TM" and was going to visit
relatives. We thought they might like some “Sid Time”.
I
took the other three hounds to Orlestone Woods where we had a rather good (if
muddy) walk.
I
like Orlestone Woods. You pretty much get the place to yourself, and any other
dog walkers you meet generally seem to understand what dogs are like and
consequently you get far fewer “episodes”.
Just
as we finished the walk so I got a text message. The "er indoors TM"-mobile
had gone west.
The
thing had been problematical on Saturday but having had a little episode of its
own it seemed to recover. I did suggest taking it to the car doctor on Sunday
or yesterday, but I was over-ruled. Far be it from me to say “I told you so”,
but this morning the thing threw in the sponge in a quite spectacular fashion.
I
took the dogs home, we all had a bath, and I went to bed.
"er
indoors TM",
"Daddy’s Little Angel TM" and "Stormageddon
- Bringer of Destruction TM" decided to carry on with their
mission using my car. They came home to collect it, then set off leaving me
wide awake.
I
tried to get back to sleep, but I wasn’t happening. So I set about laundry
whilst watching the second season of “Mars” on Netflix. It is quite watchable, but (like so
many TV shows) it tries to feature genuine science whilst having no idea
whatsoever what genuine science looks like.
After a while "My Boy TM"
came round and drove me back to his house. "er indoors TM"
eventually joined us, and we had a good evening. Far too much to eat, and a
good time spent playing the “Family Fortunes” game.
I never knew that the first fruit of my loin was such a fan
of Carol Vordeman…
Today was good… it would have
been *so* much better had I been
allowed more than an hour’s sleep…
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