I felt rather grim when
I woke this morning, and thought about phoning in sick. But I got up and got on
with life, and by the time I was chivvying puppies round the garden (five
minutes later) I'd forgotten that I was feeling grotty.
I
made toast (with the jam I'd bought yesterday) and scoffed it as I
watched more "Star Trek: Discovery", then had a little look at
the Internet.
There
was yet more upsets about geocaching…On January 8th I mentioned a
Geocaching Adventure Lab that had been set up in Westminster in such a way that
it could be logged from miles away. Being able to log it from miles away was
arguably a tad cheeky, but made it rather good fun. At the time I said “I
suspect that geo-HQ will lay an egg when they find out about it. Log it while
you can”. Apparently someone has complained to Geo-HQ and had the thing
shut down.
The
whole idea of geocaching (like any hobby) is that it is supposed to be
fun. Some get the fun from going out hunting for the caches. Some enjoy setting
hides for others to find. Some like sharing their favourite walk. For me I like
the opportunity to go out on a guided walk with friends. But (sadly)
there really are those who get their enjoyment from appointing themselves
referee and demanding a slavish adherence to their personal interpretation of
the rules from everyone else. I wish they wouldn’t. Bearing in mind the hobby
is clearly dying on its arse, why are these people trying to kill it?
I
also saw that my rating with Credit Karma has dropped by eleven points. I
wonder why. They always tell me when my rating goes up or down, but never give
any reasons or explanations.
I
headed off to Pembury again. As I drove along the A28, A262 and A21 in the dark
maybe one driver in ten dipped their headlights.
There
was a lot of talk about managers of football teams on the radio this morning. The manager of Everton looks set to get the
sack because the team are losing every game they play. How is that his fault?
And
there was an interview with the manager of Darvel FC who are doing far
better in some contest or other than anyone had ever expected. As always,
whoever it is that organises these interviews had done absolutely no
preparation whatsoever. Rather than talking about the prowess of his football
team, the chap being interviewed was drivelling on about his son's birthday and
his entry in the Scottish Pie Contest which took place today
(he didn’t win).
It
was all rather embarrassing really; those conducting the interview said as
much.
I
got to work, made myself a cuppa then launched myself into the day's work.
After half an hour the boss came up to me, and with a rather sheepish smile
asked if I wouldn't mind going to Maidstone for the day as they were rather
short-handed.
There
are those who would say I’d been messed about in this way. I wasn't at all
bothered. I saw it as a rather good skive; I drove to Maidstone quite happily
singing along to "Ivor Biggun" songs as I went. The only
problem was that I got to Maidstone to find that the works car park was full.
Having driven round it (in the hope that someone would go) for half an
hour I eventually gave up, drove half a mile down the road and parked in a
random back street.
Work
was work; and with it done I walked back to my car to find a minor disaster.
The screen thingy which shows the radio stations and reversing indicators and
car status has stopped working. The radio and reversing beepers still work, but
the screen just has the Skoda logo and nothing else.
I
shall see about getting it fixed… later…
But
driving home was far easier than I had originally thought. Rather than
negotiating the tortuous bends of the country lanes masquerading as A-roads I
stuck on the cruise control and went straight down the motorway.
“er
indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner which we washed down
with a bottle of Montepulciano. With change out of a fiver from Sainsbury’s you
really can’t quibble about the stuff. And with dinner scoffed and more plonk
still to be swilled, I set about a lump of cheese and crackers. I ate cheese and
shared the crackers with the dogs. They love dry crackers – silly pups.
As
we scoffed and drank we watched more “Junior Bake Off”.
Not a bad evening
really…
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