I woke in something of a cold sweat this morning following
a nightmare in which I had been co-opted to run a one-off hiking-camping
contest along the lines of those which had been such a large part of my time in
the Boys Brigade forty years ago. Intended for teams of three teenagers, one of
the teams (a crack SAS commando unit) had got hopelessly lost on what
was supposed to be a two-mile hike across a couple of fields in Sussex. I
eventually found them just south of the equator and had no idea how any of us
had got to be in Brazil; let alone how we might get home again.
I wasn't going to get to sleep again after that so I got up
and had a weigh-in. Last week's diet was probably marred by Saturday's kebab
and yesterday's fry-up of the leftover kebab, but I still shifted two pounds.
Better two pounds off than two pounds on, eh?
Flushed with dietary enthusiasm I had a Slimfast shake and
watched more "Downton Abbey" in which Lady Edith looked set to
shack up with a Marquess. Lady Mary had the arse over that as (being only on
the Earl grade herself), she'd be outranked.
Meanwhile the cook was running a house of ill repute.
I got dressed; now the clocks have gone forward I put on a
summer shirt (I have summer and winter shirts) and set off to work. As I
drove the pundits on the radio were all a-twitter about today's announcement of
the new leader of the Scottish Nationalists. A few weeks ago Scottish politics
seemed to be on an even keel; now it is in uproar and apparently whoever takes
over as leader of the SNP has got their work cut out for them.
I got the distinct impression that Nicola Sturgeon had been
holding the whole thing together personally and it all went to pot purely
because she jacked it all in.
And there was a lot of talk about mass oil spillages in Poole
Harbour from an on-shore oil field. I had no idea there was any such thing in Dorset.
Work was the same as ever. I must admit I spent much of the
day peering out the window in a sulk. I was at home yesterday in the drizzle
and rain. I was at work today in glorious sunshine.
I also spent much of the day with the most annoying earworm
- the theme song to "Follyfoot". Not the actual song thought;
the rude version "Down in the toilet ten foot deep..."
Did you ever watch "Follyfoot"? It was dreadful. It featured a couple of posh
children and a load of peasants who felt they had to suck up to the posh
children. The children spent much of
their time with a rather dopey looking horse, and each episode ended with the
posh girl riding the horse very fast for no adequately explored reason.
They dragged that rather simple premise over three seasons,
and were still selling the "Follyfoot" annual to gullible
children years after the TV show had finally given up the ghost.
Being on an early I got to come home early. “er indoors TM”
was back from her mate’s funeral and was working from home. I walked the dogs
round the road. As we went past the church we saw a couple of people with dogs
in there. As their dogs crapped I asked if they’d like a dog poo bag as they
were showing no signs of gathering up the dung. With a rather shamefaced
expression one pulled a black bag out, and from the complete shambles she made
of picking up the poo it was rather apparent she’d not done that very much before.
With walk walked the dogs settled, and I spent a couple of
hours proof-reading my current Wherigo project. Once “er indoors TM”
had boiled up dinner she went bowling, and I carried on Wherigo-ing.
This one is nearly done… I hope the public like it…
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