I woke at five past three shivering and spent the rest of the night
listening to snoring and shivering. An alliance of “er indoors TM” and the dogs had secured the
duvet and weren't letting it go without a fight.
I gave up at quarter to six, got up and made
toast which I scoffed whilst watching the first episode of the second season of
"Green
Eggs and Ham" which was watchable. To be honest it had the
advantage of having episodes which only played for half an hour. So much of the
stuff I find myself watching has episodes of an hour, and I watch half an
episode at a time and struggle to remember where I'd got to.
With telly watched I
had a little look at Facebook, but it was probably still a tad early for any
serious squabbling to be kicking off. I got dressed and set off to work feeling
rather miserable for no reason that I could fathom. I've been on the morose side
for a little while now. Sleep depravation, maybe? I have done a few night
shifts recently.
As I drove through the
rain my journey to Pembury was hampered by unattended road works. Sections of
A262 and A21 were bunged up by temporary traffic lights which seemed to have no
reason for being there. Am I being hopelessly naïve in thinking that if some
company or other cordons off a section of road and puts up traffic lights then
that company should not leave it unattended until the job is finished? Perhaps
I should write to the county council? Mind you I wrote to my local councillor
about the flooded footpath last week and still haven't had a reply.
As I drove I listened
to the radio. There are problems with evacuating the hospital in Gaza, the
mayor of Manchester was being interviewed about the plight of the homeless...
and still the pundits on the radio wasted over ten minutes of prime air-time on
(quite frankly) utter drivel about the history of the hymn "Amazing
Grace".
I got to work; I didn't
get *that* wet walking from the car into the hospital. As I did my bit I
got chatting with one of the engineers who'd come to do some maintenance on one
of our analysers. He mentioned that he was buying a house for six hundred
thousand pounds. Once he'd gone we had a little look on the internet and worked
out that if he was earning the average amount for someone in his line of work
then the monthly repayments on that mortgage would be more than he earned each
month.
How can anyone afford
to buy a house these days?
With
work done I came home through all the road works. I stopped off at “My Boy TM”’s
house; favourite oldest granddaughter has her seventeenth birthday today.
Perhaps I’m biased, but as oldest granddaughters go, she’s a good one.
And with “er indoors TM” off bowling
I settled myself on the sofa underneath a pile of dogs and watched a film on
Netflix. “The Wrong
Missy” was rather good. It was only a shame that I spent much of the
film trying to work out what else I’d seen the wrong Missy in.
She was one of the wardens in “Orange is the New Black”.
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