I finally got fed up with shivering at four o’clock, got up , and heaved the duvet back in my direction. Pogo gave a rather unimpressed grunt, but Treacle and er indoors TM” slept through it. I then got a couple of hours of non-shivering sleep until the bin men woke me as they crashed the bins about just before six o’clock.
I made toast, watched another episode of “Superstore”, and then had my little look at the Internet. I hadn’t missed much. I had a message that there has been some ground work done along the Greensand way, and so some of my geocaches there have probably been destroyed. I shall have to fix those.
And with no emails worth the electricity to send them, I got ready for work.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing some sports personality or other who was banging on about all the hatred she'd had through social media, and was singing the praises of this weekend's planned boycott of social media by the sporting world.
Listening to her was quite strange. Her feelings had been hurt by posts on social media and she wouldn't shut up about how she was a real person. However she was equally insistent that those posting the hurtful stuff *weren't* real people. I'm sure she made sense to herself.
There was also a lot of talk about ex Auf Wiedersehn Pet and Doctor Who actor Noel Clarke who has been accused of groping, harassing and bullying women. Is he guilty? I don't know. With twenty women making these allegations it seems likely, but again we have someone who has been found guilty by the media before any formal trial (with evidence) is conducted. Mind you, I suppose that this case is different from many that have gone before in that seeing how Mr Clarke is still alive he can at least defend himself.
I got to work and did my bit. As I worked so my phone rang. It was the vet's. My Fudge's ashes were ready for collection, and that did for me. It is now two weeks since my dog passed away. I've deliberately not mentioned him as it has been a tad upsetting; After two weeks I can now go about half an hour without crying for him.
I don’t think anyone at work realised I was struggling today. I was fine collecting his remains at the vets until the receptionist said “I’ll go get Fudge”. Had she said “I’ll get his casket” or “I’ll get his ashes” I would have been fine…