Having
had a week of half-way decent sleep (on my week off), with an alarm set
last night I woke at ten past two, and then looked at the clock about every
twenty minutes from then on.
I
eventually gave up trying to sleep and came downstairs to find Bailey had made
a great improvement overnight. Yesterday I was carrying her to the garden; this
morning she sprinted to the back door the very instant I opened the pup crate.
Mind you I made a point of carrying her upstairs to the big bed; she wasn’t
going to be allowed to run up the stairs.
With
the dogs settled I made toast and settled down for my morning fix of “Downton
Abbey” in which the chauffeur got his drink spiked and made quite the
exhibition of himself in front of the dowager countess. I think the dowager
countess was rather impressed.
I
set off to work. As I drove I listened to the radio, as I do. I know the
pundits on their boil my piss, but if I don’t listen to them I find myself
utterly unaware of everything that is going on in the world.
Apparently
we’ve had the driest February ever. There was an
interview about it… with a farmer from East Anglia whose usually swamp-like
field are dry enough to drive cars and tractors over. The interview could have
been insightful and interesting; instead it was like.. well, like, erm like…
The poor woman must had used the word “like” at least three times in
every sentence. You’d think that whoever oversees the morning’s radio would vet
the people they have on there. Wouldn’t you?
There
was also a lot of talk about customs arrangements in Northern Ireland. The UK
is in the frankly ridiculous position of demanding that there both be a border
*and* not be a border between Northern and Southern Ireland. Bearing in
mind that everyone saw this coming during the Brexit squabbling, it is really a
tad late to only now realise that voting for Brexit was voting for Irish
reunification… whether the D.U.P. like it or not.
I
got some petrol before work; I got it in Aylesford at eleven pence per litre
cheaper than Ashford was knocking it out at.
And
then I went to Sainsbury’s to get cakes for work (as it was my birthday last
week). I got what I needed, and then had something of a fight with the
self-service checkout. It was playing up rather spectacularly, and when I asked
why the tills weren’t in use, the old bat (in Sainsbury’s uniform) told me
there was no need for Sainsburys to have staff on the tills.
If
only there was another supermarket within striking distance of work…
Work
was work; it would have been a tad easier had I not been wrestling with the intricacies
of the N blood group (did you know there was an N blood group?), but it
could have been worse. And with work worked I came home.
“er
indoors TM” sorted scran then went bowling. I’ve suggested that whilst
she is out she might like to look for the northern lights. Apparently they are
visible this evening… but not from our house as it is too cloudy. Not that I
could have seen it from underneath the dogs…
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