One of the sadder things about getting older is that I find I can drink less and less. In years gone by, blog entries here would regale epic sessions “on the sauce” from which I would stagger relatively unscathed.
I woke to find I was still suffering from half a bottle of Uruguayan red wine and three amarettos two days later.
Over a subdued brekkie I peered into the Internet and was frankly amazed. Yesterday I mentioned how the pornmonger’s attempt to peddle filth was quite acceptable to the Facebook Feds. I asked them to review the matter, and they have changed their minds. Inviting random strangers to “do the dirty deed” does go against Facebook’s community standards. I suppose this is a minor victory in the ongoing battle against “nudey prod games”. Another minor victory happened when I received a message of filth from a scantily-clad “Williams Sophia Amanda” this morning, reported it, and saw his/her/its profile had been deleted by the Facebook Feds by the time I got to work.
Facebook’s number one problem is that it is a victim of its own success. It is not possible for there to be any human regulation of what goes on (as the website is so huge) and the algorithms they use to keep out the filth just don’t work as well as they might.
I sent out a couple of birthday wishes, then set about solving geo-puzzles. I got a few done on a series that we may well walk before the year is out. But quite a few of the puzzles on this series are on-line jigsaws. Some of them being over a hundred pieces. Oh well… it will pass the time otherwise wasted on Candy Crush games. As I puzzled so Pogo and Treacle sat with me. Treacle chewed on my pyjama trousers (she’s a bit “special”) and Pogo snored… except for when the postmen came with parcels; we had full-blow “Red Alerts” for those.
After two hours I’d solved fifteen puzzles (and passed on five jigsaws). By then the paracetamols had kicked in. I don’t like taking any drugs at all if I can avoid it, but sometimes needs must.
I set off for work far earlier than I might have done. Partly because my car was parked so far from home (I had to park a ten-minute walk from home last night), and partly because I fancied a cheeky McDonalds on the way to work. I headed up the motorway, and joined a frankly epic queue of stationary traffic after a mile. Literally a mile - I could see the "Ashford 1 mile" sign on the coast-bound carriageway opposite me.
After a few minutes I realised nothing was coming down the coast-bound carriageway, so I had a look at the internet. After a little fiddling about (in an incredibly poor signal area) I found out that a lorry had burst into flames about two miles up the motorway from where I was. After telling the world my plight (via Facebook) I learned of the "Highways England app" which I eventually downloaded. If you are ever inclined to download the "Highways England app", don't bother. It's crap. It started off by telling me (at one o'clock) that the motorway was closed and would re-open at three o'clock, and it updated me at regular intervals, each time putting back the re-opening time of the motorway. The final update before traffic started moving (at half past two) claimed a seven o'clock opening. But no matter how far into the future it claimed the motorway would re-open, the thing was insistent that being stranded on a closed motorway would only add ten minutes to my journey time. "Motorway doesn't open for five hours - this will delay you by ten minutes." How does that work?
Having been still for three hours the traffic finally started moving, but at a snail's pace. We took half an hour to drive two miles as we had to slowly slalom round half a dozen different cars which had broken down in different lanes. Here's a tip - if you are stuck in traffic with the engine off, don't use all sorts of things which will flatten the battery.
Needless to say being just over two hours late for work I didn't go for that cheeky McDonalds
Work was work, and I came home to a broken telly… Oh well…
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