With no need to be up at silly o’clock this morning I had the chance of a bit of a lie-in. Or so I thought. Treacle started deliberately bashing me on the head about ten seconds after “er indoors TM” got up. If ever a dog was saying that it was time to get my carcass out of its pit…
I got my carcass out of its pit, made toast and got just the teeniest bit depressed as I looked at Facebook… Some people with whom I used to be close ten years ago were posting from the field of Portsmouth Kite Festival. I miss the kite festivals. And other friends were off to Piratemania; yet another big geocaching event about which I knew absolutely nothing.
It turns out that not many other local hunters of Tupperware knew about Piratemania either.
I got the leads onto the dogs and we drove down to Orlestone Woods. Despite there being a lot of cars in the car park we only met one other person as we walked. The walk went well; as we went I practiced the whistle training. Bailey really seems to have mastered it. Treacle does it somewhat half-heartedly. And Morgan hears the whistle and comes back some time in the next few minutes when he’s finally finished whatever it was that he was doing. We tried to pose for a photo, but it wasn’t happening.
We came home and I wrapped “er indoors TM”’s birthday pressies. Eventually. Once I’d found scissors that actually cut (and not chewed) the wrapping paper. Some bright spark could make a fortune by creating scissors that are razor-sharp and cut things rather than most scissors which are marginally more blunt than my arse.
I then wrote up a little CPD, and just sat on the sofa with three sleeping dogs until it was time to leave for work… and that was it for today. I drove the thirty miles to Pembury, did my bit, and drove home again. I don’t dislike my job, but it’s not as riveting as it might be.
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