Last night was rather busy, but I’m not
complaining at all. I quite like the night shifts. After all the nastiness of nine
years ago it is good to be trusted to be left alone to do the job for a
substantial period of time, but it is always with a sense of relief when the
relief arrives.
It
was also with a sense of relief that I saw the “Operation Brock”
stupidity has stopped for now and that the motorway was open.
As I drove home the pundits on the radio were interviewing some minister or other from the Treasury about the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. With confirmed cases going through the roof, concern was expressed about the proposed relaxation of rules for Christmas. It spoke volumes about who is calling the shots when a financial minister is interviewed rather than a health minister, but either way, what can the government do…
Well…
They *could* actually enforce a proper lockdown, but politically they dare not. The dead have no votes, and the electorate would remember (at the ballot box) being given what they need rather than what they want. Lacking the political will to enforce proper safety precautions the government have decided to allow that which they realistically have no will to prevent.
There was also talk about the Olympic Games. Postponed from last summer, the games are looking set to take place this coming summer, but there are calls to abandon them because there won’t be quite so many people watching them in the stadia.
How does that work?
Are the Olympic Games a sporting contest or a form of live entertainment?
Once home I went to bed for the morning with something of a sense of frustration. I hadn’t had any messages from Sky about my phone number having been transferred. I’d been told that it would happen at some time today, and when I went to bed, today was nine hours old. I’d been awake for all of them. But (to be fair to them) realistically I was going to bed just as the Sky offices were opening, but I was still impatient.
I was still impatient when I woke three hours later.
I had some brekkie for lunch (as you do) and then took the dogs out for a walk. We went to Hothfield Common again, and today we followed the green signs round the “Bogs and Giants” walk. A good walk, but a tad muddy in parts. Someone had built boardwalks over the boggier sections; it was a shame that Treacle had to jump off of the boardwalk into the swamp. And even more of a shame that Fudge and Pogo had to follow her.
As we walked so my phone beeped with five messages. My old phone number had been changed over onto the new network. Getting my phone from one network onto another has been (possibly) one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done, and now that it is sorted I don’t intend to change it again any time soon. But I am now getting twice as much out of the phone for half the price.
We came home; “boot dogs” then became “bath dogs”, and once scrubbed the dogs were soon snoring. I told the world about my Advent Calendar, set the dishwasher and the washing machine going, and spent a couple of hours writing up CPD with Pogo snuggled up next to me. For all that he is seen to be a very boisterous noisy lump, he is secretly the most soppy and loving of all of the dogs.
A week has passed sine I last had any contact with the power company. I’ve sent them a complaint – I doubt that will get the broken gas meter fixed, but I live in hope…
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