Having
spent pretty much most of the last four days off fretting about not wanting to
do last night’s night shift, the shift turned out to be one of the better ones.
Mind you I was still glad when the morning relief arrived.
As
I drove home the pundits on the radio were spewing their usual drivel. I
listened to it for over half an hour as I drove, and nothing of it was in any
way memorable. Mind you I did shout at the radio as I listened to the “Thought
For The Day”. Some bollox-spouting vicar gave a very good talk about the
importance of apologizing when we make mistakes… and then claimed that the
ability to say sorry is in some way proof that his religion was right. I wish they
wouldn’t do that; the thicker element believe them.
I
came home, had a quick shave then went down the road to the dentist where the
dental hygienist gave my cake-muncher the once-over. She asked if I would like
the latest treatment; some sort of dental sand-blaster which is far less
abrasive than usual dental treatments. She also had some strange gadget that
went round my cake hole and kept it open. She jokingly said that with that in
place I didn’t have to actively keep my mouth open, and I could lay back and go
to sleep. Having done the night shift I was up for going to sleep. I had a go…
but being at the dentist isn’t conducive to having a kip. If I hadn’t stayed
alert I could well have drowned in that chair. The suction hose they shove in
your gob only ever sucks out maybe a tenth of the water the dentist blasts in
there.
I
went to bed for a couple of hours with the puppies snuggled up to me. After a
couple of hours I got up and took them (and Treacle) for a little walk
up to the post office and back. Treacle is as good as gold on the lead. Bailey
isn’t bad. But Morgan is a tad hit-and-miss. It doesn’t take much to get him
pulling like a train.
“er indoors TM” sorted a bit of lunch,
and with it scoffed I spent the afternoon working on my next Wheri-project
whilst “Four In A Bed” played on the telly. As always the people making
the show had four utterly different bed and breakfasts competing. I’ve said
before that I love the show; but you’d think the competitors would have watched
it to understand what they were letting themselves in for, wouldn’t you?
There’s no point ranting bitter personal attacks when someone claims to have
found dirt in one of your rooms; when people find dirt, that dirt I actually
shown on the telly. Saying the room is pristine when demonstrably it is not
just makes you look like a tit. Claiming that hairs in a room came from the person
finding them doesn’t work when that person is as bald as a coot.
I found myself hoping that the evil harridan who was so
quick to find fault in others whilst being so quick to take offence would come
last. In the last episode that old bat had a face as red as a beetroot. Sadly
she came second… by massively underpaying the opposition.
With
dinner scoffed there was a knock on the door. Finally someone had taken up our
offer of a free mattress, and the mattress which had been in the way for so long
is now finally gone…
“er
indoors TM” went bowling, and I squashed onto the sofa with the dogs
and watched more “Downton Abbey”. Not a bad way to spend the evening…
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