I woke still not feeling on top form. Mind you I woke to
the stench of someone else's (Treacle?)'s fart so no matter how iffy my
innards, someone else's was worse. I made toast and watched an episode of
"Shameless" whilst sorting undercrackers and sorting my phone.
My phone needed sorting. Yesterday I'd had an email from the antivirus company
saying they had massively overcharged me for a year's subscription and also
charged me for a VPN that I didn't want. I've had a VPN before; all it does is
stop me uploading to mankybadger.co.uk.
Last night I phoned the antivirus people. The first woman I
spoke to had a phone that kept cutting out. The second sent me a link that
didn't work, and then sent me an email saying he'd resolved my issue when he
clearly hadn't. The third one simply didn't speak English (that's not being
in any way racist, that's just a simple statement of fact). So I
uninstalled their product, got something far cheaper, and started the onerous
process of getting a refund.
This morning I set about the phone's anti-virus, updated
all the phone's apps and software and AVG-ed it all before setting off to work.
That took a lot longer than it might have done.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about the
NHS's "fifteen year plan to
boost the NHS workforce"
As always there was a lot of talk of doctors and nurses, a
single mention of midwives, but absolutely sod-all mention of arts therapists,
biomedical scientists, chiropodists, clinical scientists, dietitians, hearing
aid dispensers, occupational therapists, operating department practitioners,
paramedics, physiotherapists, podiatrists, practitioner psychologists,
prosthetists, orthotists, radiographers, speech and language therapists, cooks,
cleaners, porters, gardeners... There rarely is.
I got to work and did my bit. At tea break I had a look at
the internet through my phone (which seemed to be working every bit as good as
it used to be). The local chip shop was getting some stick on one of the local
Facebook groups. Yesterday I'd had a dodgy stomach all day (as had “er
indoors TM”) and I'd written on here "I blame that fish
and chips we got last night. Twenty quid to be farting like a fruitbat".
It would seem quite a few other customers of that chip shop also had iffy
innards yesterday.
And talking of iffy innards some woman was asking on one of
the Facebook pond forums what was the best way to get vomit out of a pond; her
teenaged child had blown into hers.
How delightful.
At lunchtime “er indoors TM” told me that
hers and Treacle's appointment with the TV cameras had gone well. Their fifteen
(more like two) minutes of fame will hopefully be the subject of a
future blog entry.
Being on an early I got out of work early (no surprises
there!) and took the dogs to Orlestone. We had a good walk; we met no one
else. As I walked I had a minor melt-down missing my Fudge-dog as I remembered
him walking round those woods. Back when the family’s three dogs were Treacle,
Pogo and Fudge, three was too many. Pogo could be hard work, and Fudge used to
straggle so. But with Pogo’s and Fudge’s spaces now filled by Morgan and Bailey
things are just generally so much easier.
We came home, and scoffed sausage and chips whilst watching
the first season finale of “Star Trek: Brave New Worlds”. And having AVG-ed
my mobile this morning I need to AVG the laptop this evening. I wonder how long
that will take…
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