I had a very restless night. I blame “er indoors TM”'s snoring, the dogs, the
heat.... in fact pretty much everything and anything except the excessive
amount of ale I poured down my neck yesterday in order to maintain hydration.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it (!)
I got up far too early, recorded yesterday's history, then made
toast and watched another episode of "Shameless" which (now
featuring a talking baby) is beginning to get a tad silly.
I got myself ready for work and set off. Some chap over the road
was shouting a conversation at his mate in the street. Had the mate not been
revving his motorbike (like a thing possessed) they could have spoken
their conversation rather than shouted it. I did think that both the revving
and the shouting were a tad keen for seven o'clock on a Sunday morning, but if
I was up and about then no one else had any reason to be in bed, did they (!)
As I drove to work my piss boiled as I listened to the radio. The
Church of England has apparently found out that some of its money has come from the slave
trade, and has set up a fund of a hundred million quid to provide a "better
and fairer future for all, particularly for communities affected by historic
slavery".
Having got a sniff of the readies, some bunch of bishops have come
charging to the UK from Jamaica and are trying to shove their snouts firmly
into the trough. One of these bishops was being interviewed; he kept on and on
about how his grievance wasn't about the money, but at no stage did he intimate
that he wouldn't take any. In a novel break with tradition the pundits on the
radio wheeled on someone who actually talked sense. This chap claimed that many
of the slaves taken to Jamaica had in the first place been enslaved and sold by
various other African tribesmen; none of whose descendants are offering any
apologies. He also pointed out that whist slavery was vile, it all happened a
couple of hundred years ago, and how can anyone send an apology back in time.
And he told the bishop being interviewed that bearing in mind the average
Jamaican is far better off than the average African, any money being dished out
should go to those who needed it most.
The bishop seemed to be unable to answer this with any meaningful
words, but he seemed to think that it was only fair that if money was being
dished out, then he should get some.
I'm not defending the slave trade at all. It was vile, and none of
us can imagine what the slaves went through. Ripped from their homes, dragged
hundreds of miles to the coast where they were sold and shipped half way round
the world. But slavery in the UK was abolished a hundred and ninety years ago. How can anyone offer any
sort of meaningful apology for something that happened so long ago?
I got to work and had the cooked breakfast from the works canteen.
It wasn't so much "second brekkie" as medicine; I was still
feeling rather fragile...
I did my bit and with work worked I came home; I was only working
the morning today. As I’d parked the car this morning (at eight o’clock)
my car had told me it was twenty-one degrees. As I drove down the motorway at
one o’clock my car was registering thirty-one degrees.
I came home to a rather good smell (not that I can smell much
after three nasal re-bores); “er indoors TM” had ben
baking. We had fresh bread for lunch. Very nice. And then despite the heat I
got on with various garden chores. I mucked out the pond filter, and whilst I
was at it I cleaned out the pond’s fountain/aerator.
Flushed with success I then fixed a water feature (which
had a blocked nozzle), and then disassembled some lumps of wood I’d screwed
together last year (it seemed a good idea at the time).
And then I had a message. My Amazon delivery had arrived. I
ran to the doorstep, opened my parcel and put the new toy together.
Every morning when I turn on the telly it is so early that
the telly-shopping infomercials are on. If they ain’t flogging the octospring
memory foam mattress they are extolling the virtues of the Bionic Burner. The
Bionic Burner is basically an over-powered hair drier which burns weeds to
death.
Regular readers of this drivel may recall that every few
weeks I go into the front garden and spend half an hour on my hands and knees
pulling weeds from between the paving slabs. It is hard work and does my back
in. But with a Bionic Burner I could blat the weeds from a standing position.
Or so the advert said.
I must admit that the weeds up my path were far more
impressive than the ones on the advert, but I gave them a serious Bionic Burn
anyway. The instructions said to blast the weed with hot air for three seconds,
and that more stubborn ones might need up to ten seconds. I gave each weed
enough hot air to turn it black. The instruction said that once you’ve blatted
the weeds to give them a couple of days, then sweep them all away. I shall see
what happens on Tuesday.
Mind you the instructions also said that improper use of
the device will result in hazards. I wonder how one might improperly use a
Bionic Burner?
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