I woke in a cold sweat in the small hours following a nightmare in which one of my colleagues had seen photos of me (on Facebook) in a bandanna. Having thought that a bandanna was the coolest item of headwear in the universe (which it is) she tried one on. And then found she was extremely allergic to them. She ended up in the intensive care unit, and the consensus of opinion was that if she died it would have been my fault as no one but me wears a bandanna these days.
I got up and took the puppies outside for a tiddle. They then flew upstairs and set Treacle snarling (she doesn’t like the puppies at the best of times; let alone at silly o’clock in the morning). I left them to it and watched another episode of “Another Life” which is an entertaining enough show *provided* you don’t actually think about it. Imagine humanity’s first ever mission to the stars. Who would go? Highly trained astronauts and scientists or a bunch of argumentative f*ckwits who spend most of their time in their underwear?
And so to work… As I drove home yesterday there wasn’t a single lorry in the “Operation Brock” bit of the motorway. Overnight a queue of lorries had formed, and as I headed up the motorway ten hours later this morning the queue was three miles long.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how few people can afford to buy a house these days. When we bought our first house we could get a mortgage for three and a half times my annual salary. In the meantime the value of that first house has increased tenfold, but my salary certainly hasn’t. How can anyone afford a house these days?
Mind you there was also a lot of talk about the pressures on the NHS, and it seems that private medicine has never been so popular. More and more people are managing to find the price of a hip replacement… presumably by cashing in on the profit made from rocketing house values?
Work was work… Or was it? One of the bosses left today, and she worked diligently up to the last minute. Back in the day when another boss had his last day I can remember him wandering around passing out swigs of his bottle of whatever it was that he was drinking, and his wife arriving to take him home before tea time.
How times have changed.
I took a little diversion on the way home. A little while ago I’d posted on Facebook asking if anyone had any rockery-type rocks they didn’t want. I got seven from a friend who was glad to be rid of the things. He’d got some space in his garden; I got some rocks. Everyone was happy.
And as I drove home the queue of lorries down the motorway had grown to ten miles long.
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