I slept like a a log last night despite the dogs having something of a scrap in the small hours. I wish they wouldn’t do that.
I made toast and scoffed it as I watched an episode of “Drifters” and as another negative COVID test incubated, then I turned on the lap-top. I had a friend request on Facebook from someone claiming to be called “Miethkea Shovda”. Wearing little more than a “Get It Here” expression in her profile picture, “Miethkea Shovda” suggested I might like to “join an established WhatsApp group, there are many hot girls in this group who need it. , so if you want raunchy women by your side, join our group because it's all free with no money”. Not that I want to appear judgemental, but if the hot girls are anything like “Miethkea Shovda”, the “it” that they need is to put some clothes on.
Pretty much nothing else at all had happened overnight so I spent a few minutes on that SpongeBob geo-jigsaw. When the thing’s clock told me I’d spent a total of four hours on it (over the past few days) I saw that as a sign to go get ready for work.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about how half the GP appointments in the UK are conducted over the telephone these days. The leading light of the Royal College of General Practitioners was being interviewed on the matter, and he didn't really come over as well as he might have done. Several cases were cited in which people might not have died had they actually seen a GP rather than spoken to one over the phone, and one woman was on the phone to the radio show saying how a phone-diagnosed supposed muscle strain was actually a blood clot which moved to her lungs and nearly killed her.
I suppose the problem is the old problem that GPs have always faced. I once read a GP's biography in which she claimed that out of every hundred patients she sees, ninety get better and eight die regardless of anything that she does. The clever bit is to be able to spot the two per cent on which the GP can have any influence, and the obvious way to do this is to get rid of the time-wasting ninety per cent. I'm reminded of an old bloke I once met in a GP's waiting room who was loudly telling his mate that there was nothing wrong with him, but he came to see the doctor every Tuesday as he had paid his national insurance and he was entitled to do so.
There was also talk about how the French have got the arse over a new deal in which the UK and the USA will supply Australia with "at least eight" nuclear submarines. Apparently the French had a contract with the Australians but have been gazumped?
Bearing in mind the UK has only got four of the things, perhaps we might buy some off the French to keep them sweet? I'll put myself down for a couple of Skydivers if that's OK with the Ministry of Defence?
I stopped off at Aldi on my way to work. The place was surprisingly busy with dozens of customers. All blundering about, all utterly oblivious of everyone else in the shop, and not one looking where they were going. I got my shopping and got out as quickly as I could. I got back to my car and headed to work where I had a minor disaster. As I parked so the car’s parking brake refused to come on. The footbrake worked fine but the parking brake wasn't having it at all.
I spent an age phoning round trying to find a garage who could sort it. Eventually I found somewhere that would do it on Tuesday. No one else could do it any sooner.
With work done I came home… having completely forgotten about the troublesome parking brake. My memory wasn’t jogged because the thing had started working again. The car alarm did exactly the same thing a few months ago. Bearing in mind the foot brake works fine and the parking brake wasn’t attempting to work but is now fine, I suspect an electrical problem.
And I’ve now completed that SpongeBob geo-jigsaw. Only took four hours fifty-three minutes… And with all one hundred and thirty SpongeBob geo-puzzles solved maybe it is time to go searching for the geocaches?
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