I had a rather restless night. I
eventually gave up trying to sleep and got up. I used up the last of the bread
making my toast and sarnies; I expect "er indoors TM" laid an egg when
she realised, then I had a look at the Internet as I do. Someone with whom I
used to work was posting on Facebook about the excellent work that volunteer
drivers do for the NHS. I suppose that they do what they do with good
intentions, but having volunteer drives led to the redundancy of at least one
chap that I knew of. And how far can we go with volunteers in the NHS? I’ve
been led around an out-patient department by a WI volunteer who was *very*
interested in reading my medical notes. Why not ask if anyone would volunteer
to do the portering and cleaning? It is a very short step to getting all the
NHS staff to go and get a proper job and have them all come back as volunteers.
Interestingly the move (several years ago) to get retired ex-managers
from industry involved was very soon abandoned. The NHS is never going to be
funded properly (by any political party) all the time someone is
offering to do the job for free.
I had a lot of emails this
morning; quite a few people had been out looking for (and finding) the geocaches that
I’d hidden over the last year. I was quite pleased to see “found it” reports on caches
which (only two weeks ago) I had been assured were missing.
With some time to spare I took
the dogs for a walk round the park. Despite all having been chivvied into the
garden earlier to “do their business”, a surprising amount of “business” was conducted as we went round the park. Our walk went rather well;
we only met one other dog. It was a shame that it had to be one of the local “pampered princesses”. The chap with
this delicate blossom was being deliberately awkward. As we diverted to walk
away from him and his pooch so he would change direction to still be where we
were going.
Some people, eh? Mind you I
found a Munzee – happy days (!)
We came home; I harvested a
quite impressive crop of dog turds from the garden. Several people have
commented on how we gather up the dog dung and flush it down the loo. It would
seem that we are in the minority of dog-herds in clearing our garden of poop.
When questioned other people have said that they just leave it there. Yuk!!
I then looked at my credit card
bill. I really wish the bank could sort themselves out; the bank statement
comes on the same day every month, but I am reliably informed that it is
impossible to have a credit card statement on the same date every month. It is
randomly generated at any time between the twentieth and the end of the month.
I wish they’d get themselves sorted…
And having looked at the credit
card bill I then looked at organising the geo-meet for February. I’ve
volunteered to host it, and thought that the Red Lion in Badlesmere might be a
good venue. After all, it’s tried and tested.
As I drove to
work there was a rather interesting article on the radio about illegal
immigrants coming from Sierra Leone. Apparently the vast majority of those who
illegally leave Sierra Leone go back to where they came from because of the
dangers they face on their journey elsewhere. The danger of death from the
desert and ocean crossings is nothing compared to the danger of being captured
and sold into slavery. And going home isn't an easy option. Everyone trying to
escape the country has to pay to be smuggled out. The going rate is about three
thousand pounds, and because those wanting out don't have a pot to piss in,
they've had to steal that money. So they are going back to disgrace and a
probable prison sentence.
And we in the
UK always thought these illegal immigrants had it easy...
I spent a few
minutes before work having a little geo-adventure. Interestingly the people who
claimed to have found one of the film pots I found today *hadn't* signed the piece of paper.
that's pretty damn serious in Tupperware circles.
I got to work, had a rather good
lunch in the canteen... and then effectively that was it for the day. As is
usually the case when on the late shift. I did the late shift; it was rather
busier than I would have liked.
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