I woke in a cold sweat in the small hours in which one of the most likeable gentle geocaching friends of mine had become Mr Big, had the entire geocaching community thrown into prison and was demanding money with menaces. Only having forty pence meant I was in big trouble.
Being awake I popped to the loo, and came back just as Pogo fell off of the bed. As it was pitch dark I couldn’t see that it was Pogo, but judging by the crash it was either him or a rhino. Like me, that dog needs to go on a diet.
I dozed for an hour or so then made brekkie and scoffed it (as yet another negative COVID test incubated) whilst watching an episode of “People Just Do Nothing”, then sparked up my lap-top in the forlorn hope that something might have happened in cyber-space overnight.
My lap-top laid an egg as it told me that my data was on the dark web having been involved in four data breaches. However the only breach it wanted to tell me about was when the diet website “MyFitnessPal” got hacked four years ago. I wonder what the other three breaches were? But that was the only excitement this morning. With nothing else at all happening I got dressed and set off for work.
As I drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were jabbering on about the latest development in the Prince Andrew saga in which whoever it was that had the arse with him has now agreed to an out of court settlement even though she'd already received a bung of half a million dollars. And now the scandal isn't whether or not he sexually abused her, rather exactly where the money to pay this woman is coming from. Is the Queen paying it? Is he paying himself? It is all good gossip though, isn't it?
The Bishop of Burnley was then wheeled on to present "Thought for the Day". He started off about how the Russian army looks set to invade Ukraine, and how terrifying it is for the thousands of innocent people caught up in the potential conflict. And just at the point when my (and presumably everyone’s else too) attention started to drift, the Bishop started drivelling on about how nice Jesus was, and how although the Russian army and the Ukrainians might have a fight, we don't have to, and we can be nice to each other instead. As though I was intending to go out and punch someone up the throat today...
Having left home rather later than I would usually have done the roads were rather busy, but I got to work with a little time to spare. I spent much of the day peering down a microscope and had something of a "virusy" day; when looking at blood you really can see when someone's got a virus infection.
There was a minor disaster as I drove home. A week ago the car’s tyre pressure warning went off and I put in some more air. And this evening on the way home the warning went off again. That was a pain in the glass. Fortunately I was able to get home and park the car right outside the house so I had this idea to leave the car for a little while so I could check the tyre pressures on cold tyres (like you are supposed to) and come back to it once I’d walked the dogs.
I got the hounds onto their leads, got their light-up collars on, and had the worst dog walk ever. We went round the block via Christchurch Road, Francis Road and Bond Road, and were about a hundred yards from home when the dogs saw a Bassett hound over the road. In their sudden inexplicable immediate need to attack this dog they flew at it, and as Pogo sprinted with all his might so the lead came behind my ankles and pulled my legs out from under me. I hit the ground like a rubber duck (to coin a phrase), but fortunately for the dogs I still had hold of their leads, and they span completely round as they nearly pulled my arm out of its shoulder socket. I say “fortunately for the dogs”; they missed getting run over by inches.
Once the passing postman picked me up I ranted somewhat hysterically at the dogs, and they were as meek as lambs for the next hour or so.
“er indoors TM” took over ranting at the dogs, and I checked the car’s tyre pressures. One was a tad low. It isn’t now.
My right knee and right hip really hurt…
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