With
no overnight rain there was far less of a fight to get the puppies to go do
their thing outside this morning. And with things done they went upstairs to
bother a sleeping “er indoors TM” and I went off to bother
toast and coffee whilst watching telly.
After
an episode of "Big Mouth" I had a very quick look at the
Internet and saw that I'd had a friend request on Facebook from a very unmoral
lady claiming to be called "Goddest Stella". He, she or it was
trying to interest me in a website featuring nudey ladies performing very
unhygienic activities. I turned the Internet off, wondering if because I'd
received a friend request from "Goddest Stella", was there a
"Godder Stella" who simply wasn't as good, or a "Not
Very God At All Stella" who was only starting off on the
porn-mongering journey.
"Goddest
Stella" had been banned by Facebook by the time I got to work. Funny,
that...
I
wandered off to my car; having made a point last night of remembering where I'd
parked. As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about Lord
Wolfson (the head honcho of the clothing chain "Next") who
having loudly advocated in favour of Brexit has now
got the arse because Brexit was "not the Brexit he wanted".
It would seem that when all the foreign workers went home because they no
longer felt welcome in the UK, a lot of them who went were the very people who
had been working in his shops and used to make money for him.
Like
we didn't see that one coming? There's
an old proverb about being
careful what you wish for, isn't there?
There
was also some talk about how the membership of the Royal College of Nursing has
voted for strike action;
this was immediately followed by a lot more talk about growing
NHS waiting lists. A year or so everyone was encouraged to stand on the
doorstep and clap (like demented sea-lions) for the NHS. Now it seems
the nation is being primed to turn against NHS workers.
Again,
like we didn't see that one coming?
Work was work. It
usually is. As I did my bit I had a message from “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”.
Someone in Folkestone is trying to set up an AFOL club. For those of my loyal
readers who aren't that sad, AFOL is an acronym for "Adult Fans of Lego".
A local(ish) Lego club? It could be fun if you like that sort of thing.
Which I do.
Mind
you, in years gone by I thought the same about the snake club and the astro
club. Although they both started off very well, both of those eventually
dissolved into rather bitter squabbles. I won't write the Lego club off before
it has even started, but I shall try not to get too wrapped up in this one.
With
work done I came home… eventually. It took twenty minutes to get out of the works
car park for absolutely no reason that I could work out. Once out of the car
park the traffic was actually quieter than usual, so what was causing the jam?
Once home I organised the
dogs; this evening it was down to me. Lacey had tickets to see “D Block Europe”
(who?) at the 02 arena, but what with train and tube strikes getting
there was rather problematical so “er indoors TM” had driven
her up there and taken Cheryl for the ride. With no one else legally obligated
to feed me within striking distance, once I’d fed the dogs I went foraging for
my dinner. I foraged up kebab and trifle; the kebab having the advantage that
the dogs could share it with me.
I think the extra-large
portion of both lamb and chicken kebab was perhaps a tad optimistic; I’m now having
a farting contest with three dogs and there’s no clear winner…
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