As I scoffed toast my lap-top’s anti-virus thingy told me that it had got its January repot ready. It claimed to have blocked nearly four thousand risky connections in that month. Did it? I have to take its word as I have no way of knowing. I’ve not knowingly gone anywhere near a “risky connection” so I must admit to a degree of scepticism. I wasn’t aware of it blocking anything this morning as I perused Facebook as I scoffed brekkie. Facebook was the same as it ever was. I sent out a birthday wish, then got dressed and (despite the back ache) took the dogs for a short walk.
Apart from an unwarranted and utterly unnecessary frenzied shouting at a dog daring to walk past our house (on the other side of the road) the walk passed off rather well. We went up to the co-op field, walked a circuit and came home again with only a minimum of pulling. We didn’t play “ball” as my back was too painful.
Again as we walked round I looked at all the trees that had been planted in the co-op field, presumably as part of the Queen’s Green Canopy initiative? As I said the other day, according to the Woodland Trust trees should be planted about two metes apart. I carry a tape measure, so I unwound it and pushed it over the fence. These ones were about a quarter of that distance apart. Is the expectation that most of them will die? Apparently planting trees like this is the “Miyawaki method”… will it work? We shall see.
It was a shame that as we walked the low sun was tight in my eyes and I walked head-first into a low branch. It hurt a bit, but I don’t think the scar will last for long.
Once home I ran (hobbled) round the garden harvesting dog dung, then had a quick game of “Sweardle” before getting changed ready for work and then taking Treacle to the vet.
We got to the vets a few minutes earlier than originally planned so as to have a couple of minutes with the veterinary nurse, as Treacle has been worrying her bottom recently. Having a dog doing what I can only describe as an "arse carousel" on the carpet is something to be avoided wherever possible. We took our place in the waiting room where Treacle immediately started whimpering and trying to get away. We only had to wait a couple of minutes until the nice nurse came out and took Treacle into the treatment area. Squeezing of the anal glands isn't something that "doggy daddies" are supposed to see. Mind you I say "took Treacle into the treatment area" - she didn't go willingly. once I'd handed the lead to the nurse, she pulled away with all of her might and eventually had to be picked up and carried in.
After two minutes her ordeal was over, and both of us went in to see the vet. Treacle was equally unwilling to see the vet though, and I almost had to pin her in place as the vet gave her the once over, a syringe full of vaccines in the neck and a drop of something up the nose. The vet seemed quite pleased with her, but said she was a tad overweight.
Being told everything was covered on the payment plan we walked out. As we walked out I remembered how much Fudge used to cost us at the vet; I would rarely come out with a bill less than three hundred quid. It was that which caused my melt-down - I don't think anyone saw me blubbing as I hurried Treacle out. You'd think that after all this time I wouldn't still be in tears several times each week about that silly dog, wouldn't you?
With dogs settled I set off to work and the late shift. With absolutely nothing worthwhile on the radio I sang along to my MP3s as I stop-started my way through several sets of road works on the way to Pembury. I would have made good time if not for those. I've often said that I like working at Pembury, I *really* dislike going there. the journey can be terrible. But I knew what it would be when I took the job and (in all honesty) I would rather have a two-hour drive to Pembury (and the same back again) every day rather than the five minute drive to where I used to work.
Work was work... I did my bit. I rather confused the new boy with an offer of help. Having assisted him with one or two technicalities I offered to do his tea break for him. I don't think he quite understood...
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