Just recently I've been sleeping with the full-face CPAP attachment. Last night I thought I'd try having a kip with just the nose-thingy. I woke with a very sore beak.
I came downstairs and watched more "Away" as Sid sat at my feet farting. Fortunately the other three pups were still upstairs and fast asleep. For all that they are small dogs, they really do have stinky backsides. Just one gassing me out was quite enough this morning.
Once the telly programme had finished I struggled to turn it off. The Netflix app can be rather troublesome at times; today it flatly refused to stop. Turning the phone off stopped it though. If all else fails, pull the plug.
I had a quick look at the Internet. I have often said that people will argue over anything, and this morning there was quite the squabble which had kicked off over the TV show "Blake's 7". Some chap had posted to the Facebook "Blake's 7 Fan Club". He'd written quite a savage review of the first few episodes. What he said was factually correct. Paul Darrow was acting more as though he was in pantomime than in sci-fi. Blake really was a wet weekend. The props really were made of cardboard. And the sets did wobble. For me (and for many), that is the attraction of the show. But others had taken umbrage and there was a full-blown row going on. Despite having been a member of that Facebook group for over two years, this bloke was claiming that he'd only watched the show for the first time this week. He was clearly trolling, and many people had taken the bait. But then, most people only tune in to social media for the quarrelling, so everyone was happy.
I set off to work on a very foggy morning. As I drove there was a lot of consternation being expressed about the Prime Minister's Brexit plan. Having won a General Election on the strength of having a plan, it would seem that no one (least of all the Prime Minister himself) has actually had a look at the thing. Like pretty much everything to do with Brexit, it has all been left a little too late to do anything about it now.
There was also talk with the headmaster of some school whose coronageddon plan has fallen at the first hurdle. The idea of having all the kids in "bubbles" works very well all the time they stay in their "bubbles". But when they leave school the kids mix with their brothers and sisters who then mix with their "bubbles", and before long the virus has spread pretty much everywhere. Like it would anyway, and would seem to have done at his school. Having teachers giving the lessons remotely by video-link is all very well for more mature students, but schoolkids need someone on-hand to referee the fist fights.
With a little time on my hands I took a small diversion for two Munzee resuscitations. I've now done the entire clan effort for Munzee resuscitations for this month. Go me.
I then went into work for the early shift. The day went well, but not as well for me as for the chap we watched who was on the lawn outside the window. Wearing only his pants and swigging from a can of lager the chap was enjoying the sunshine. He wasn't alone... well. He wasn't alone in sitting on the lawn enjoying the sunshine but he was alone in his pants. But he wasn't bothering anyone, and lay there (in his pants) for much of the morning.
After work I went to Aldi. I needed rinse aid for the dishwasher and came out with two huge bags of stuff, but forgot the rinse aid.
As I drove down the motorway I could see smoke. A huge column of smoke coming from the general direction of home. It was rather unnerving. It turned out that a tyre warehouse next door to where Cheryl works had gone up in flames. You could seen the smoke from ten miles away up the motorway, or from the same distance to the south from the Romney Marsh.
Once home "er indoors TM" announced she was going out for dinner with her Dad. Did I want to go? So much for the twenty quid I’d spent on stuff for this evening from Aldi, eh? Bearing in mind she works on the living room table till half past six I went and had a little sleep. I wasn’t feeling well; maybe I’d be up to going out after a little kip. The dogs woke me with their howling at ten past six; she’d gone out without me…
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