I
woke to the sound of Treacle jumping off of the bed with a loud crash. Thinking
she wanted to go outside to "do her business" I leapt up to
let her out only to be reminded what a clever dog she is. The very second that
I got up she leapt back onto the bed and curled up in the warm spot I'd just
vacated.
I
contented myself with taking the puppies outside. There's always some "business"
to be "done" in the mornings in my world if you look for it.
I
had brekkie, watched a bit of telly, then set off to work. As I drove through
thick fog so the pundits on the radio were telling the world that the fog today
was restricted to the far west of Cornwall(i)
They
were also talking about last night's England-Wales football match. A *lot*
of air-time was devoted to this match, and it left me thinking. That match took
place yesterday evening when I'd been at Lego club, and together with a small
group of like-minded people I'd had a fun time. Listening to the radio this
morning it was clear that for millions of people last night's football match
was anything but fun. The Welsh supporters interviewed were bitterly
disappointed to have lost, even though they had expected it. And the English
supporters interviewed were far from magnanimous in victory (seeing the
Welsh as just someone else to stomp underfoot) , but openly expecting
bitter upset in the next few weeks when the England team gets knocked out of
the world cup.
I've
said it before; I wish I understood the attraction of football...
I
took the courtesy car to the petrol station; filling it with petrol was far
easier than I had expected it to be. Many years ago I once spent twenty minutes
standing at the petrol pump trying to find where the petrol went in to my
grandfather's car. The chap from the garage eventually came out and he couldn't
find the filler cap either. Eventually we found it behind the rear number plate
(which folded down!) Ever since then I've expected no end of arse-ache
every time I take a new (to me) car to a petrol pump.
And
then having filled it with petrol I couldn't help but wonder if diesel might
have been a better idea. How do you know which to put in? Mind you the thing is
still making the same noises it was before I put the petrol in, so here's
hoping.
I
got to the works car park and spent five minutes trying to turn the car’s
lights off. For some reason they wanted to stay on. I expect while randomly
pressing all the buttons (like I have been doing) I've randomly pressed
the wrong one.
As
I did my bit at work so my phone rang. It was the people who are supposed to be
sorting my car. They’ve taken two days to tell me what the chap who picked up
the car on Monday said, and they estimate it will be fixed two weeks this
Friday.
I
sighed…
On
September 1st the local garage had a look at my car and sent me a
quote. They could have taken the car in on the following Monday and had it done
that morning for a thousand quid. I wonder how much the insurance people are
being stung for.
Work
was much the same as ever, but even being on an early shift it was still dark
when I got home.
I
took the dogs round the block and risked life and limb. The pavements are
extremely slippery with fallen leaves, and the utterly inadequate street
lighting means that you can’t see where the fallen leave are. I sent an email
of complaint to the local councillor. Mind you I’ve complained about the
inadequate lighting to her before and had a rather disinterested reply. I
suppose the more argumentative fat sods that pogger themselves in the dark, the
less stick she gets in her in-box. She actually replied in less than an hour.
She didn’t actually say “f… off fatso” but she might as well have done.
We drove round to see “My
Boy TM” and deliver his Advent Calendar. Every year “er
indoors TM” wraps up twenty-four tins of beer for him.
I get to open the first
window on my
Advent Calendar tomorrow…
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