I woke far too early again, made toast and watched another
episode of Shameless, then had a look at the Internet. Last night a geocache
went live not a million miles from work. It was still unfound this morning so I
set off on a little geo-mission.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about the
owners of Vauxhall cars who have got the arse.
Apparently making cars isn't a profitable business anymore and so they have formally
ordered the government to re-negotiate the Brexit deal in their favour.
It speaks volumes that a commercial company can do this,
doesn't it?
Mind you there was also talk about that odious Nigel Farage
who had apparently announced that in his opinion Brexit
has failed. It's a shame that he didn't listen to those telling him what
would happen and how much it would cost each of us personally when he had the
chance. The sad part of all this is that (with his history) it can only
be a matter of time before he's back on the public stage, can't it.
I got to junction five of the motorway, and eventually
found somewhere to park my car. From there it was a half-mile walk along some
rather pretty countryside. As I approached where my phone said the cache was I
saw some rather obviously trampled down grass around the fence post to which I
would have attached a film pot. I soon found what I was looking for, and no one
else had signed the paper log before me. First to Find. Go me!!! That’s two hundred and seventy-one
First to Finds that I’ve had…
I went on to work and had a cheese scone as a celebratory
second brekkie, had something of a thalassaemic morning, and soon it was home
time.
Sooner than usual.
For all that “er indoors TM” works from
home, occasionally she has to go into the office. Today was one such day, and
so I took the afternoon off to be on dog duty. Yesterday I mentioned that Morgan
(particularly) was rather willful at Orlestone Woods, so in a spirit of
scientific investigation we went to Kings Wood to see how he would be. He was
as good as gold. Treacle was a minor problem though; not turning down any
chance to be belly-deep in a swamp.
We had a little “episode”… well, *we* didn’t.
At about the three-mile point of our walk two larger dogs (about the size of
cart-horses) appeared seemingly from nowhere. They ran up to the pups and immediately
a great game started. Seconds later some chap appeared and was overflowing with
apologies about what his dogs were doing… and then he went quiet and seemed to
be amazed that the dogs were all playing nicely. So amazed that he took some
photos and a little video to show his wife.
We came home, and after “swamp monster” was bathed
we all settled on the sofa and watched episodes of “Shameless” whilst
the washing machine sorted undercrackers and dog towels.
I really ache now… the morning’s little walk and the
afternoon’s bigger walk have taken their toll…
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