Again I slept for nine hours; a combination of the
aftermath of a night shift and still feeling under the weather. I was
eventually woken by Treacle’s whimpering in her sleep. Don’t believe anyone who
says that dogs don’t dream; they certainly do.
I got up and shared toast crusts with Fudge whilst I peered
into the Internet. There wasn’t much to see this morning, but I did see that
one of the better local pubs, The Honest Miller in Brook has closed down. Such a shame. Mind
you it closes down every year and is taken over by new owners who can’t make a
go of it. Perhaps the place has finally had its day?
I got out a mop and bucket. Yesterday I’d inadvertently
parked my car under a tree. This morning I swabbed off quite a lot of bird
dung. Mind you the car was filthy and it needed a scrub anyway.
We then took the dogs round the park for a walk. As we went
we had a couple of episodes. Pogo got seriously told off by a poodle; the
little old lady with the poodle was rather upset. I told her not to worry. I
can’t help but feel that if more dogs told Pogo off then he’d be a little more
socialised. As it is when he gets iffy people tend to chivvy their dogs away
and he gets all cocky. If he gets a dog shouting back at him he seems to back
down. Like most bullies do.
We also met Brian and Rachel as we walked, and we also
finally went and found that geocache round the back of the park. It has been
there for a month or so, and we went to get it today. For all that scanning
barcodes is the craze at the moment, there is always a place for looking for
film pots under rocks.
"er indoors TM" boiled up some
soup which we scoffed with home-made bread then…Today was one of those days on
which I could have done so much. I’d had an invitation to go on a rather
serious pub crawl round the Medway towns. I could have rallied the troops and
gone to Dover Beer Festival.I could have made a bit of an effort and gone to
the sci-fi event in Southampton (they used to be fun – sadly rather
commercial these days).
Instead I went to work.
As I drove to work the pundits on the
radio were saaying that most of the photos we now see of the Prime Minister are
from Downing Street's official photographer (paid for by the tax payer)
rather than from press photographers. It was claimed that Minister is being a
bit more selective about his involvement with the press. I suppose that
allowing the press total freedom does allow them to catch the Prime Minister in
his unguarded moments, but I can't help but feel that if he doesn't want to be
portrayed as a bumbling incompetent who looks as though he has been dragged
through a hedge, then he shouldn't act as one, and should smarten himself up a
bit.
Pausing only briefly to stick bar codes
onto lamp posts I was soon at work and in the canteen for dinner where I had a
rather good bit of chicken in cream sauce, then cracked on with the late shift.
Given the choice I'd rather do an early shift that a late; I can't help but
wonder why I never thought to swap.
I came in to the department and was
surprised to see someone different to who I was expecting. The person who was
originally on the early shift *had* swapped. Having been given two
months' notice from her landlord, she, her husband and three children have got
to pack up and move.
A friend once told me that he'd never
want to own his own house as he doesn't want the worry of sorting the problems
that go with owning a house. However when you own your house you never find
yourself evicted at short notice.
I got on with my work and sulked. As I
worked I could see a very bright day outside. I don't mind working at the
weekends when it is pouring hard, but when it isn't I have a definite sense of
missing out.
I hear the weather forecast for tomorrow
is terrible…
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