I slept well despite a rather vivid nightmare featuring my having to make endless excuses for Nigel Farage who in my dreams had suddenly become my best buddy. What was that all about?
I watched part of an old episode of "The Crystal Maze" as I scoffed my granola. For all that this was always a firm favourite of mine, I'd forgotten just how thick some of the contestants on that show were. Did they have to sit a stupidity test before taking part? Faced with the blatantly obvious, this morning several contestants stared in blank amazement before failing miserably. I suppose it saved the program-makers money in that they didn't have to shell out on big prizes.
I took a rather circuitous route to work this morning. Finding herself at something of a loose end, I'd suggested that the most recent fruit of my loin might do some voluntary work to gain experience before applying for jobs. I was rather amazed to find that she quite liked this idea, but in a classic example of her trademark flair for the utterly impractical, she immediately secured herself a morning’s shovelling shit (quite literally) at the goat sanctuary. Whilst I am an ardent supporter of the Buttercup goat sanctuary (my adopted goat "Natalie" lives there), it isn't the easiest of places to get to. Have you ever been there? It is at the end of a very obscure lane about a mile from the closest bus stop (and that is derelict).
I dropped "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" off shortly after seven o'clock, and I headed in to work. As I drove there was all sorts of talk about how the education system is going to sort out the utter balls-up that was this year's school exams. Bearing in mind it wasn't practical to hold exams this year because of coronageddon, the only fair thing to do would have been to wait until it was practical, or to have rigged up some on-line exam system (with all its inherent potential failures).
Instead the teachers all said what grades they thought the students would get, and over-estimated to make themselves look good. The exam boards saw straight through this ruse and marked everyone down. Now no one is happy with the result.
As I drove through Maidstone so the thunderstorm started. I managed to get into work without getting too wet, and then got on with the day. Today I was something of a hero to the under twenty-fives with whom I work. Apparently the Rocky Horror Picture Show is undergoing something of a revival amongst the younger generation, and my having been a part of the world-record Time-Warp in Brighton eleven years ago was seen as being amazing in the extreme.
Work was work; I had something of a "macrocytosis" day, but being on the early shift, an early start made for an early finish. Just as I was about to set off for the goat sanctuary to retrieve "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" I got a message that she had already got herself home. I was vaguely disappointed; I had been hoping to get a little look-see around the place.
I got home; the new fence is coming on in leaps and bounds. I did think about painting the unpainted panel; I did think about taking the dogs for a walk. But with the temperature still well over thirty degrees I sat inside and sweated whilst writing up some CPD.
"er indoors TM" boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of the cheapest wine you ever did see. At three quid a bottle it really was as good as some of the stuff I’ve spent over seven or eight quid on.
I might have another early night – that would be three in a row… if only this heatwave would pass…
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