Finding myself awake far too early I got up and came downstairs. As
I opened the door to the living room I jumped as something shot past my feet at
lightning speed. Two somethings. “er indoors TM” couldn't have secured the
puppies' crate last night and they had been waiting (poised like coiled
springs) for me to open the door this morning so they could get to the big
bed. They'd clearly spent the night out of the crate... as evidenced by the
tiddle on the carpet and the poop on the lino.
Oh
well... who'd have dogs?
I
made toast and watched more Downton Abbey in which the chauffeur would seem to
have abandoned Lady Sybil (men are all beasts) and Ethel's morality was
found to be wanting (by those who were no paragons of virtue themselves).
I
then had a look at the internet and sent out a birthday wish with something of
a sense of guilt...
Yesterday
I mentioned someone with whom I went to primary school. Today was the birthday
of another friend I've known since 1969. This chap was a very good friend all
those years ago; we went to primary school together, I walked three miles to
secondary school (and back) with him every day for many years. But I can
never forgive myself for introducing him to the Boys Brigade. The whole idea of
Boys Brigade is to brainwash boys into religion. It caught me, but eventually I
realised what was going on and saw sense. However my old mucker fell for it,
hook, line and sinker. He became a lay-preacher (effectively a voluntary
vicar), and eventually he gave up a very well paid job as a bank manager to
become a full-time pastor in the Baptist church (which he still is).
When the chap who ran our old Boys Brigade died, my old friend gave a sermon at
the funeral. I have never heard such a disjointed illogical load of non-sequitur
nonsense. My old mate admired the chap who'd died for his "faith".
"Faith" was (to him) a wonderful thing – to me it is
the ability to hold an unshaking belief in the patently absurd despite
overwhelming evidence that your belief is clearly wrong. But my old friend
believes every word of the nonsense he now spouts and consequently leads his
life in cloud cuckoo land... and it is my fault for taking him there.
As
I drove to work I listened to the radio with something of a sense of confusion.
There was talk about the uncertainty as to how much the government is going to
subsidise our energy bills this year.
I
really don't understand what is going on with energy bills.
Years
ago the government sold off the country's power generating ability to people
who would run it at a profit. The people who bought the country's power
generating ability did so in good faith; they knew a good thing when they saw
it. But now we are hearing mutually contradictory news. On the one hand the
pundits on the radio are claiming that the power generating companies are being
told to sell the electricity and gas cheaper than they can make the stuff. On
the other hand it is claimed that the power generating companies are supposedly
making record profits selling it at this loss.
How
does that work? What's going on there?
Work
was work... we had a phone call. The
nice people from the Care Quality Commission were on the way and would be with
us in twenty minutes' time. I suggested to the boss that I might threaten them
with a fight to scare them off but as the boss said, that wouldn't look good in
the newspapers, would it?
Having
had the heads-up that they were coming at twenty to nine I was on my best
behaviour all day… But they hadn’t shown by the time I went home. I saw that as
a result.
Being
on an early shift I got home earlier than usual. We had a quick walk round the block,
then I settled myself in front of the telly. With dogs piled on top of me I
watched “Ancient Aliens” on the History channel. Have you ever watched that
show? It has to be seen to be believed; the logic employed on that show wouldn’t
be out of place in a church (!) It was stated as a categorical fact that
aliens exist for the simple reason that the late Prince Philip was interested
in UFOs.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of Pinot Noir
from Lidl. With change out of four quid, it was a very good drop… Hic !
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