The
sound of the rain rattling against the window woke me. I’ve said before that
there is nothing more depressing than the sound of heavy rain.
I
took the dogs into the garden. All three weren’t keen on the idea, and I stood
with them in the rain until they’d all done something. Some “did”
quicker than others.
I
made toast and had my morning look at the Internet. Some chap was all over the
local Facebook pages offering an incredibly cheap TV package deal. For a
one-off payment of a hundred quid he will come to your house and plug an Amazon
Fire Stick into the back of your telly. You can get the things for thirty quid
and plug them into the back of your telly yourself, but I suspect there are
enough people out there who will pay this bloke.
I
also saw the same advert about buying a yacht (with its own fule (!) tank)
half a dozen times, and I got notifications about pretty much every Christmas
fete and bazaar in Cornwall… that’s only an eight-hour drive away. And two or
three adverts for hairdressers (like I need a hairdresser!). I know that
Facebook is paid for by the adverts, but those paying for the adverts aren’t
getting their money’s worth, are they?
Seeing
a break in the rain I took the dogs round the block for half an hour. We didn’t
go far, and when I came home my foot was soaking wet; my old trainers have
clearly had it and sprung a leak. We got home just as the rain came back, so as
the dogs snored I wrapped Christmas pressies then over a bit of lunch watched
an episode of “Stranger Things”.
In
the early afternoon I looked out the window at glorious sunshine and looked at
the sleeping dogs. I decided against waking them to take them to the woods. I
was right to have done that – in less than an hour was torrential rain again.
Instead
of going to the woods I spent a little while messaging with “Daddy’s Little
Angel TM” about fish tanks. Our one needs a new lighting set-up,
and for only a little more than the cost of that I can get a whole new tank (with
lighting)
As
the rain carried on thundering against the window I turned the telly on and
watched some episodes of “Four in a Bed” in which a town centre hotel
was compared with a country club, a rural bed and breakfast in the Lake
District and a rather disappointing wannabe-hotel in Blackpool. With the
cheapest charging a third of the price of the most expensive, how could any
meaningful comparison be made? But (as is so often the case in this show)
the most vocal contestant had far and away the grimmest establishment, and no
one wanting to go back there.
Having
said that, I would have been quite happy in it.
I watched a couple more
episodes of “Stranger Things” until “er indoors TM” came
home. As we scoffed dinner we had a seriously major result. Morgan was lurking
by the back door, and when I opened the back door he went out into the pouring
rain to have a “download”.
It is a sad indictment
of my life that these days I seem to spend more time fussing about dogs’ toilet
arrangements than pretty much anything else… I’ve had three days leave spent
sheltering from the rain and watching telly…
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