I felt rather better when I got up this morning, which was
something of a result. I went straight to the pond and was very pleased to see
the water level was where it was last night, and that the water was noticeably
clearer than it has been.
I wasn’t pleased to see the amount of dog dung in the
garden though. Having cleared it all yesterday afternoon, how could three small
dogs have generated quite so much?
I made toast, took another antibiotic, and had a look at
the Internet. There were squabbles on Facebook about dustbin collection,
hospital management, parking at the post office… Everyone is so keen to rant
on-line. So few want to stand for election to do anything.
I had two dubious friend requests on
Facebook. One seemed to be having difficulty keeping its chest under control,
and the other was called “John”.
With a few minutes spare I took the dogs out. I wondered if
Orlestone Woods might have dried out a bit; it is quite the swamp during the
winter, so we went there to have a look. Kings Wood is bigger and drier, but
over twice the journey away.
We got to Orlestone and walked out usual route without
seeing a single other person. It was a bit boggy in places, but it could have
been a whole lot worse. The dogs behaved well; last year I rather went off of
the place as Morgan would run riot when we were there, but he was as good as
gold today.
As we walked I was amazed at just how many trees had been
cut down. I realise that the place is a working woodland and that the trees are
cropped for wood, but it was rather sad nonetheless.
We came home and the dogs had a bath. Some needed it more
than others. I then set off in totally the wrong direction for work; I needed
petrol. I drove past the place in the town centre which prides itself on having
the cheapest petrol for miles around and drove to Sainsburys who were knocking
the stuff out at two pence per litre cheaper.
And then I headed for work. Having made careful note of the
time I'd left home and the time I got to the A28 I think it fair to say that
getting petrol added half an hour to my journey. Half an hour(!) - I
would have thought ten minutes at most.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were presenting an
incredibly dull documentary about
Frank Zappa so I turned the radio off and sang along to Ivor Biggun as I
drove west through the -hursts and the -dens. Much as I grumble about the
journey to Pembury, when I get a clear run (like I did today) it is a
pretty drive, even if it takes (almost) twice as long as the run to
Maidstone.
As I drove through Pembury I saw the garage which usually
sells petrol at ten pence more per litre than the garages in Ashford had
changed its policy. Today they were knocking it out at a penny less than the
price charged by the supposedly cheap place in Ashford. It pays to shop around.
I got to the work's car park, ate my lunch as I read more of
my Kindle, then got on with that which I couldn't avoid. And as is so often the
way on a late shift, the day was effectively over by the early afternoon.
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