I asked a question on one of the work-based Facebook groups yesterday, and was rather amazed by some of the replies that I read as I scoffed my toast over brekkie. Work-based Facebook groups are something of an eye-opener. Many of the people appearing on these groups are students quite forcefully offering the wrong answers. Quite a sizable proportion of people on there claim to be doctors, but the lack of understanding of basic principles in what they write shows that most are no more a doctor that either of my dogs. And most of the American members participants approach everything from a financial (rather than medical/technical) perspective.
There was a petty squabble on one of the “Blake’s Seven” Facebook pages. Reading that page is in many ways not unlike the “Upstairs Downstairs” Facebook page. Whilst one TV show is about the landed gentry who lived a hundred years ago and the other a sci-fi series set thousands of years into the future, both are TV shows from forty-odd years ago than many people don’t seem to realise are from forty years ago.
And then I saw an advert for these two dogs. Just like Fudge and Sid would have been had they lived; A very old pug and a very old jackshund needing to be re-homed as a double act. Could we take them on? I seriously considered it.
After an “old dog induced” meltdown I then refereed our remaining dogs’ breakfast time. Dog breakfast time is frankly silly. They both get a bowl of food. Pogo tucks into his whilst Treacle watches. When he’s scoffed the very last bit of his, Treacle starts eating hers and Pogo watches her eat. But if she doesn’t start eating right away Pogo eats hers too. Hence the need for a referee.
With rain forecast in an hour or so I took the dogs out earlier than I might have done. Ideally we would have gone after the schoolkids would finished swarming about on their way to school… There were no schoolkids swarming about today. Is it half term? Seeing how it is over fifteen years since schools and “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” parted company (not on the best of terms) I’ve rather lost track of school holidays.
We walked to the park, played “fetch” and “catch” and came home again without a single woof at anyone or anything.
I harvested yet another bumper crop of dog dung from the garden, and was very pleased to see the shed door was still in place following my fixing of the thing two days ago. And as the rain started we all came inside and watched episodes of “People Just Do Nothing” until it was time to set off work-wards.
The morning's walk to the park and back with the hounds had been very quiet; there had been very few people about. Things were rather different as I drove to work. Both lanes of the M20 (it only has two lanes London-bound thanks to "Operation Brock") were ram-packed with traffic.
I eventually got to the petrol station in Aylesford where the queue was backing out of the forecourt.
And that was my day today. A mooch on the internet, a dog walk, a bit of telly, got petrol and did the late shift. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting from today, but I think it fair to say that I was expecting more than I actually got.
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