Finding myself wide awake half an hour before the alarm was due to go off I got up. Over brekkie I watched an episode of “The Chair”. Wanting something to watch, Netflix recommended it. Though bearing in mind they made it, they would, wouldn’t they? It was billed as a “comedy-drama”… it wasn’t very dramatic and it was more “funny-WTF” rather than “funny ha-ha” but it might improve as the series goes on.
When that finished and as I was about to turn the telly off my eye was caught by some utter drivel on the Sky History channel. Some rather odd-looking people were rattling on about Puma Punku. I’d never heard of Puma Punku before – it is (apparently) the Bolivian equivalent of Stonehenge. And (again) because the rather odd-looking people didn’t know how it was made, aliens must have made it. After five minutes I turned the program off thinking that their crackpot theories might well gain a little plausibility had those expounding them had a wash and a haircut before appearing on the telly. Call me old-fashioned if you will, but I have trouble lending credence to someone with the appearance of a deranged tramp.
With a few minutes to spare I had a look at the Internet. There wasn’t a lot kicking off this morning so I got myself ready for another early shift.
As I got to my car so not-so-nice-next-door came down the road. She goes out very early most mornings for some rather odd fast-walking, not-quite-jogging strange sort of exercise. (The sort of trot you employ when you need to get to the toilet immediately but don’t dare run as that will just end in catastrophe).
Having made several efforts to be civil to her this year and having had every single overture rudely rebuffed I pretended I hadn't seen her and fiddled about in my car's passenger footwell until she'd gone past. That woman is a worry; I’ve offered to repair and replace her knacked fence (on a few occasions); she just hysterically ranted that she can't afford to do it. I've offered to repair her knacked shed; she just gibbers incoherently and then tells me I don't understand English. I've tried to offer an olive branch many times... and have reluctantly decided it best to go back to the ways of the last fifteen years in which we simply completely ignore each other.
As I drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were talking about how in China there are quite a few conspiracy theories circulating claiming that the global COVID-19 pandemic started in the USA, and not in Wuhan (as all the evidence would seem to suggest). Even Chinese diplomats are spouting this nonsense.
There was then loads of talk about how President Biden is refusing to delay the USA withdrawal from Afghanistan.
I wonder if President Biden is getting a tad fed up with the international perception that the USA is supposed to be the policeman of the world?
I rather lost interest in the rest of the news as my mind turned to that Euro Millions ticket in my pocket. There was a jackpot of thirty-three million euros in last night's draw. As I drove I planned how I would spend it. I would buy a house (cottage/bungalow) in the countryside vaguely equidistant from Hastings, Maidstone and Ashford and it would have to be near woodlands and footpaths. I would get the place decorated and have electric ports for electric cars installed before we moved in. I would have a loft conversion done to give me an extensive Lego room. I would have to get the huge garden dog-proofed and would landscape the garden and have a rather impressive ornamental lake dug. I then started thinking about how I would share my winnings. Who would I share it with? How much would I give out, and how much would I keep for myself?
I got to work and checked on-line. I actually did have a winning Euro Millions ticket... but with only two numbers and one bonus I've won four pounds and twenty pence. I've adjusted my plans somewhat, and am keeping the lot for myself. Selfish? Perhaps.
At tea break I had a little rummage in my locker. Last year (on November 12th) I broke a tooth. I had the remains of it pulled out the next day, but that night I was on a night shift. Thinking my gob might not be up to anything too arduous to scoff that night I got a few pot noodles and stuck them in my locker. I re-discovered them today, and seeing they were now two months past their expiry date I thought I'd better start getting them scoffed. I had one at morning tea break and it gave me a guts ache that lasted all day.
But another early shift meant that I got out early, and I used the opportunity to take the dogs round the co-op field and to use the ball-thrower that I got yesterday from Aldi. In a novel break with tradition Treacle played “fetch” nicely. She seems to have realised that Pogo has far more fun chasing after the ball than she does jealously carrying one round. With a ball each, both played “fetch” successfully.
With walk walked I then rigged up a fishing net and got most of the plums out of the tree overhanging the bottom of our garden. They have been falling and splatting on the shingle. The chap who lives in the house at the end of the garden doesn’t seem overly fussed about the falling ones so presumably he is equally disinterested about the ones that were still up the tree. In any case it is a rather grey area as to whose tree it is as the deeds of our houses disagree as to who owns that bit of land.
If the bloke in the house at the end of the garden kicks off, he can have the plums. We’ve got a plan to make plum jam, but I’d rather just not have them splatted into the shingle. I doubt he will ever know though… unless not-so-nice-next-door squeals me up. I wouldn’t put it past her…
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