Last night Treacle got
to bed before “er indoors TM” could take a firm line, and she
made a point of stomping all over the show and trying to shove me out of the
warm spot. When I say "she made
a point of stomping all over the show" that was Treacle. “er
indoors TM” just fought
with her and told her off and generally made a racket.
Finding
myself wide awake at one o'clock I then lay awake for much of the night. The
new CPAP attachment giving me a sore nose didn't help much either.
I
eventually got up just after five o'clock and took the puppies outside. Again
there were several lights on in houses round and about. So many people are up
and about far too early.
As
the puppies mobbed “er indoors TM” I scoffed toast whist
watching telly, then had a quick look at the Internet. It was still there. On
one of the groups I follow there was a religious argument kicking off in which
some half-wit was advocating the power of prayer, and claiming that no matter
what the outcome, it was all proof of
the existence of his god. Whether of not your prayers get answered depends
on god's holy plan for the universe... obviously (!) Others were arguing
with the half-wit, and during the "debate" (for want of a
better word) this half-wit constantly changed his stance on no end of
matters and effectively claimed that black was white and shit was sugar.
They
let these people vote and do jury service, you know...
Leaving
“er indoors TM” and the dogs asleep I set off to work. As I
drove there was an interview with someone who used to be in the band Chumbawumba who now runs some sort
of extreme choir. From what I could work out this bunch go out and about
singing whilst fell-walking and whilst swimming in rivers and ponds. The chap
made the claim that when they were
famous, Chumbwumba were paid to appear on all sorts of TV shows
internationally, and they never played live. They always mimed to a recording,
and so the band rarely actually turned
up. They would send friends and family members on the all-expenses-paid
outings. Friends and family would stay in hotels and appear on foreign TV shows
and get paid, and (so this chap claimed) no one was ever any the wiser.
I
wouldn't mind some of that...
There
was also in interview with an ex-potato farmer who has been getting no end of
abuse from all sorts of people because he has stopped growing potatoes and now
grows bird seed. Why does he do this? He used to grow potatoes at a loss, now
he grows bird seed at a profit. As he said, he isn't running a charity... and
people pay more for bird seed than they do for their own food.
Funny
old world.
I
got to work where I sulked. Usually rather than cracking on with blood tests on
a Saturday morning I go to dog club. But being unable to swap shifts, that wasn't
happening today. I also sulked because in years gone by the first weekend in
February was one of the highlights of the year: Dover Beer Festival. But the
Maison Dieu in Dover (the venue) is being renovated and so the event is
on hold for a couple of years.
I
wonder if it will start up again? It was always fun; if a tad messy at times.
I
came home to an empty house. “er indoors TM” and the dogs
were out with Cheryl and Ro-Ro so I ran a bucket of water and sloshed the grime
off of the car’s windows. It has to be said there was a lot of grime to slosh.
As
I then headed in I saw movement next door. On one side of our house is “not-so-nice-next-door”
with whom relations are slowly improving. On the other side is “new-next-door”;
a house occupied by a succession of people who never seem to last very long.
The latest “new-next-door” is a young lady about the same age as the
fruits of my loin. She seems nice enough, but bearing in mind that she is the
sixteenth person to take up residence in that house in the last thirty-two
years, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before she’s off.
“er
indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner, then we set off for
an evening out. Jimbo’s band were playing at the New Chimneys, and the clans
gathered. I must admit I went along thinking that it might be something to
round of an otherwise dull day, and we had a really good time. Jose and Maria
gave us a lift and we arrived to find Steve and Sarah sitting in what I can
only describe as the “band’s groupies area”; a little part of the pub
just behind the band with the speakers pointing away from us. We were soon joined
by so many old friends. Denver and his new lady friend. Alan. Sue and Chris.
I’ve
spent a lifetime making such good friends that I so rarely see these days. It
was so good to catch up with people, but such a shame that with the loud band
we couldn’t hear each other speak. I might suggest they do an acoustic set;
does any pub band *really* need amplifiers?
Nevertheless we had a
very good evening listening to Neon Street playing music from the eighties (when
music was good!). Mind you I can’t help but think that the perception of
the eighties from forty years away is probably somewhat better than the actual eighties
were…
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