As I drove home from the night shift the pundits on the radio were interviewing the head of MI6 who apparently goes by the code-name of “C”. The interview lasted from pretty much all of my drive home from Maidstone and was frankly something of a disappointment. Apparently MI6 does have a “Q-Branch” but any special gadgets they use aren’t made by their boffins but are bought in. And if anyone in MI6 gets a memo on green ink, then that memo has come directly from “C”. “C” himself likes the James Bond films but took great pains to point out that James Bond is seriously in the realms of fiction. He was rather reticent about exactly what it is that MI6 actually does. I got the impression that he didn’t want to cause widespread panic by admitting that there really are evil super-villains in hollowed-out volcanoes planning world domination.
Once home I had a quick scrub then went to bed for a few hours; waking to find a snoring Pogo with his head on my shoulder and his nose in my ear.
We went for a quick walk round the block; a good walk with no “episodes” at all. It was only a shame that when the normal people stopped to fuss the dogs, whilst Pogo was up for the attention Treacle cowered away in obvious terror. Twice. She really is a nervous little dog.
With walk walked we came home, and I set the dishwasher and washing machine going and spent the afternoon wrapping chrimbo pressies whilst watching episodes of “Four in a Bed”. Today’s episodes featured a particularly vindictive woman. If two contestants rate the cleanliness of a bed & breakfast at ten out of ten, how can the third rate it at four out of ten with any conviction?
It was late afternoon before I got round to having my usual trawl of the Internet. I had a dozen notification on Facebook; none for anything of note. Credit Karma told me that several people had been checking my creditworthiness, but clicking to find more details (like they suggested) achieved nothing.
I finally got through to the CPAP machine people at the hospital. I say “got through”; I was able to leave a message for them as their answerphone was taking messages (which it hadn’t been since late last week). Apparently they want to know what CPAP machine I’ve got. I would have thought they would have known?
It doesn’t really inspire you with confidence, does it?
I then created the Facebook album for this year’s Advent adventure. I wonder what this year’s will be about. Over the years my annual Advent story has developed life of its own. It really does have a cult following with dozens of people tuning in to see what happens next. And (I think it is fair to say) no one is more surprised by each day’s instalment than me. Every year I get the calendar in September and it sits unopened on the shelf for a couple of months. I opened the lid of the box this afternoon and took photos, but each actual window doesn’t get opened until that day arrives. Most days in December are the same for me. I open the window of the Advent Calendar when I get up and then spend all day thinking “WTF can I say about that“. I really don’t make it easy for myself. Anyone else would open the thing up and have a look-see, but I won’t. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a rather good bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching the Christmas episode of “Gavin and Stacey” (from 2008) which is memorable for Stacey being in the shower in the nip. I suspect Christmas specials from years gone by will be infesting the TV screens for the next few weeks. However I suspect Stacey in the nip won’t be doing the same…
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