I had an early night last night and got an hour's sleep
before I was woken by a ferocious snarling. Treacle had taken umbrage with the
puppies over something or other. “er indoors TM” had a fight
with her, and then had a fight with the puppies, hollering that it wasn't
playtime and that it was sleep time as they flew over, under and through the
bed playing chase. Eventually they pushed me out of their way to make
themselves comfortable and they slept the sleep of the just as I hung off of
the bed for most of the night.
I gave up trying to sleep, got up and stood on the scales.
Seventeen stone and three pounds... time for a diet. I turned my nose up at
toast and coffee and had a Slimfast shake for brekkie as I watched an episode
of "Downton Abbey" in which Thomas made himself ill trying to cure
himself of being "on the other bus". It was actually rather
well done by the TV show's producers; a hundred years ago so many men really
did make themselves physically ill paying a lot of money for crackpot cures to
somehow supposedly "cure" themselves of being gay.
I didn't have time to wait for my lap-top to boot up this
morning; I had a little look at the Internet through my phone instead. It was
still there and not a lot had happened overnight really. Mind you, some mad
woman was having a serious (and very entertaining) argument with her own
sister-in-law on one of the pug-related Facebook pages as to whether her new
dog was a pure-bred pug or not. And as the quarrel went on, other family
squabbles were dragged up too. You'd think she would have kept what was clearly
a family feud out of the public eye, wouldn't you?
And I had an email from the nice people at Credit Karma who
told me my credit rating had gone up eleven points last week.
I wonder why?
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking
about that idiot Boris Johnson who is facing an investigation by the
Commons Privileges Committee today to see if he really did mislead Parliament
when he claimed that lockdown regulations were followed whilst he was allegedly
staging piss-ups at Number Ten. If found guilty this would be the death knell
for his political career. I would have thought being sacked as Prime Minister
would have already put the tin lid on any political aspirations he might still
have had, but what do I know?
There was also a lot of talk about the Scottish Nationalist
Party being in disarray. A lot of
talk about being in disarray, but not much about what the disarray was.
I since found out that the SNP's chief executive has
resigned; the chap being the husband of Nicola Sturgeon (the leader of the
SNP who has also recently resigned).
But there are very few details to be found about what he has done wrong.
Mind you, if both are going, there's no smoke without fire,
eh? Or that would be the implication of the morning's radio.
I got to work for the early shift and got on with it. As I
worked so the phone rang. It was my brother. The gas engineer had been to Dad's
house and given both gas fires and the cooker the thumbs-down. The hoses to all
have perished, and have now been capped off.
Oh well, if we can sell the house that will be someone
else's problem.
Being on an early shift I got out early (obviously!).
Despite the rain I took the dogs round the block. They seemed to enjoy their
walk. And I then spent an hour or so catching up with writing up my CPD.
Continuing professional development is something everyone does mostly
subconsciously; so few people realise they are doing it.
There are two tricks to CPD.
Firstly recognizing that you’ve done some.
Secondly writing up that you’ve done some.
I have to do it; it is a legal requirement. I live in
terror of being called up to show that I have done it.
I then spent a few minutes doing “dog photography”:
an activity which would be far easier if dogs sat still.
“er indoors TM” went off bowling. I settled
on the sofa underneath a pile of dogs and watched two more episodes of “Downton
Abbey” as the dogs snored.
I really should get to bed to get some sleep before they come
up and hijack the bed again.
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