1 February 2023 (Wednesday) - A Poggered Cordyline

Last night I am reliably informed that “er indoors TM made a point of making sure that Treacle got onto the bed as quietly as a quiet thing, and of ensuring she didn’t stomp all round the bed. Consequently I stayed asleep until after five o’clock this morning when the backache finally woke me. I then dozed on and off until a cold wet Bailey-sized nose shoved itself into my armpit at seven o’clock.


I got up, and being the first of the month I had a shave with a new razor blade, then made toast and had a look at the Internet. There was quite the squabble kicking off locally. Someone locally had run over a dog and was trying to get the dog’s owners to pay for the damage done to the car. Opinion was divided into two schools of thought; there were those who felt sorry for the dog and its owners, and there were those who I don’t think I like very much.

I then sent out birthday wishes to those having a birthday today, leaded up the dogs and we went for a walk.


We didn’t go far today, really. Yesterday I’d come home to find one of those “we tried to deliver” slips left on the doormat by the postman. In the past I’ve found that they aren’t so much “we tried to deliver” as “we couldn’t be arsed to knock on the door” but to be fair we had been out when postie called yesterday. So today we walked up to the collection office to get the parcel. The walk there was relatively uneventful; mind you a lot of people did cross the road or back up against the walls in terror as we passed. Are the dogs *that* scary? They aren’t the biggest or scariest, are they? Or is it me?

We got to the collection office and got the parcel and headed home. As we came home the puppies had woofing fits at two other dogs. I blame the leads. When all the dogs are all off of the leads they greet other and have a little game. When all the dogs are all on the leads it is one big shouting match.

We came home past Brian’s house… I say “Brian’s house”, “where Brian used to live” is a more accurate description. But bearing in mind he did a runner last June I was rather amazed to see the disabled parking signs still up.

Once home I harvested a crop of dog dung from the garden. As I pootled I saw that my cordyline was in a rather sorry state. I had a look on-line and found as many opinions as there were people to give them. I asked on Facebook and found that maybe I should have covered the thing up in the autumn. Mind you “My Boy TM” says his has gone the same way. And he is the family font of knowledge on all things horticultural now Dad’s gone.
I shall leave it until the weather chirps up in the spring and hope for the best. If all else fails I will give it a serious pruning; that has worked wonder with other ailing plants.

I spent a few minutes doing some of my current Coursera course, emptied the dishwasher, then watched some telly before settling the dogs and setting off in the general direction of work.

I stopped off at the co-op to get a sandwich. Every time there I end up wishing I hadn't. The parking is an absolute nightmare, and the place is full of normal people swarming. That isn't normal people "shopping", or "wandering about" or "blindly blundering". People in that shop really do swarm.

I tried the radio; there wasn't much on which was worth listening so I sang along to "Ivor Biggun" as I drove west-wards, making far better time that I did yesterday. I'm not sure about the first part of my journey, but the bit from the Lamberhurst roundabout which took me twenty-five minutes yesterday only took nine minutes today. That's the advantage of going to work later.

Having done that which I couldn't avoid I made better time coming home as well, but with the best will in the world, after a late shift at Pembury I'm not going to get home before ten o'clock at the earliest.

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