er indoors TM” had a restless night,
and consequently so did I. Just as I got up so Sid started shouting. He doesn’t
like being confined to where there is no carpet overnight. He had a choice of
two baskets and he could have been very comfortable, but he is just awkward.
I
made toast and peered into Facebook. The local Labour party candidate had paid
for a “vote for me” advert in which he claimed that under his regime all
would be better. “Better” is such a vague phrase, isn’t it? It sounds
impressive whilst promising nothing tangible. But the chap’s post had got quite
a lot of rather abusive comments which spoke volumes about the state of our
country. Are Labour, the Lib Dems and all the others *really* so bad
that we'd rather vote in a party lead by a Prime Minister who openly lies so
much that the public expect nothing else of him, and with ministers brazenly
awarding public contracts to their mates. Obviously they would seem to be...
My
cousin had posted something interesting. The pub just down the road from my
dad’s house is up for sale. It is closed now, but when open it was never
anything special; very much a “local pub for local people”. Being a (ex)
local I could go in with impunity, but it was the sort of place where strangers
probably would have got eaten had they ventured inside. It had the lame to fame
that during the 1970s the landlord was in the Guinness Book of Records for
holding the world record for flipping the greatest number of ten-pence pieces from
the back of his forearm into his palm. My cousin had posted the details of the place on-line.
If I had a spare half a million pounds… I probably wouldn’t buy it. I suspect
it will be knocked down and redeveloped as a block of flats. It would be a
great shame – there’s only one other pub within a mile of the place, but (as
I’ve ranted before) I can’t help but wonder if pubs have had their day.
We
got the dogs leaded up and went for a quick walk round Orlestone Woods. It’s a
lovely place to walk; just a shame that someone (wish I knew who!!)
makes a point of getting McDonalds, drives at least five miles to those woods,
and just dumps their rubbish in the car park. McDonalds really should print the
number plate of all cars which use the drive-through onto the packaging of
their take-away. We cleared the mess once we’d finished our walk.
Once
home I spent a little while in the garden. Having dragged loads of stuff out of
the way for the roof repairs and house painting, I dragged it all back, and
then mowed the lawn. And this is exactly what I “bl**dy hate about gardening”
(as I say from time to time). Having spent an hour’s really hard work,
the garden now looks exactly the same as it always has done.
I
came in to find that Pogo had eaten his brekkie. Being a greedy dog he never
turns his nose up at food, and last night he didn’t eat his dinner. Instead he
moped about with his stomach rumbling. Having lost one dog recently I was
worrying myself sick about the silly pup. It would seem that whatever had upset
him yesterday had now passed.
I
popped round to B&Q to get some decking boards, decorative stones, screws a
saw and drill bits for a little garden project I have in mind for the coming
weekend. They didn't have the fancy decking I wanted, but plain decking planks
will do just as well. Though I had something of a shock at the till. What I
thought might cost forty quid set me back nearly eighty quid, but that's the
cost of pretty much everything these days.
With
utter drivel on the radio I turned it off and sang along to my odd choice in
music as I drove up the motorway. I needed both lunch and petrol so I thought I
might get them all at the Aylesford filling station. I got there so see that
the door to the kiosk was closed and there was a queue of people waiting to pay
at the window. When I paid for my petrol I asked if I might have a sandwich.
The chap behind the counter said that they were only selling petrol, and flatly
denied that the woman in front of me had bought a sandwich, even though I
watched her do so, and we could both see her carrying it to her car. I asked
why they weren't selling anything other than petrol. He said it was because his
colleagues were filling the shelves with more stock. In retrospect I should
have smiled and said nothing, but I didn't. I made the observation that his
colleagues weren't filling the shelves with more stock. (They weren't).
They were standing around gossiping and neither had moved in the five minutes
that I'd been waiting in the queue. That didn't go down well and provoked a
torrent of bluster from the chap behind the counter, but I regained the upper
hand by pointing out his name was on his badge and demanding the name of his
supervisor's boss. The chap behind the counter didn't actually crap himself,
but he went from aggressive to smarmy at the drop of a hat.
I'm
not going to write to the director-general of Sainsbury's (I can't be
bothered) but he doesn't know that.
I
then went into the main branch of Sainsbury's to get lunch there, and
consequently rather than being fifteen minutes early for work I was five
minutes late. Not that anyone noticed.
Work
was work... and after the morning I'd had it was something of an anticlimax. it
was only a shame that I spent the afternoon with backache having overdone the
gardening. Having managed to get a parking spot outside the house when I got
home this evening I unloaded all the stuff I’d got from B&Q.
My
back really aches now…
