27 November 2023 (Monday) - Iffy Innards

I slept like a log last night, which was something of a result. Mind you I did have an early night after falling asleep on the sofa. I suppose I needed one after a night of “Darcie Waa Waa TM screaming and a bottle of plonk yesterday evening.
Over brekkie I watched another of the animated "Dads Army" episodes; watching it as a recorded program on the SkyQ box is the way to do it. Being able to fast-forward through twenty minutes of adverts meant I watched it in only twenty minutes. You'd think advertisers would give up, wouldn't you? There's no need to watch adverts, and I don't. To be honest (being an awkward bugger) if I find myself faced with an advert I can't avoid, I tend to avoid that product.
 
I set off to work on a rather rainy morning, but half past six this morning was a full ten degrees warmer than half past six was yesterday. As I drove there was a lot of talk on the radio about the upcoming United Nations climate talks. This latest round are being hosted by the United Arab Emirates. Apparently the BBC have found out that the United Arab Emirates plans to use its role as the host of UN climate talks as an opportunity to strike oil and gas deals. It was claimed that leaked briefing documents revealed plans to discuss fossil fuel deals with fifteen other nations.
Like anyone would really be surprised about that...
There was a lot of talk about the cease-fire in Gaza and pretty much everyone was hoping that the cease fire might be extended. It's a shame that there had to be conflict in the first place, but whilst pretty much everyone interviewed on the matter is keen for the hostilities to stop, they've all got their decades-long grievances that they won't let go.
 
I got to work and made a bee-line for Trap One. Over the weekend Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM had dodgy guts, and whatever it was, I think I've now got it. I spent an inordinate amount of time in Trap One today.
Still, what are grandchildren for if not for spreading infections, eh?
 
In between dashing to the chodbin I did my bit at work. Work went better than it did yesterday; I prefer working with others around me, rather than being on my own for extended periods.
Over a mid-morning cuppa I sparked up the Internet through my phone. Someone had posted to one of the Dalek-related Facebook pages that I follow that they had just discovered the "Doctor Who and the Daleks" films made in the 1960s. Someone else had commented asking how any so-called Doctor Who fan couldn't know about these films, and the petty name-calling that this generated was rather impressive, to say the least.
After nearly two weeks my local councillor had replied to the email I'd sent her about the floods by Asda. She said she'd look into it. Will she? I wonder.
And I got a quote for the repairs to the roof following the chap's having had a look on Saturday.
 
With my bit done I came home. It wasn’t that long ago that I would take the dogs for a walk after an early shift. Today it was dark and raining. So I sat and wrote up some CPD, and my piss boiled about one of the articles that had been emailed to me.  It’s no secret that a few years ago I made a serious mistake at work for which I was comprehensively crucified. Now it seems the same workplace allow their staff to openly admit to mistakes, for which everyone involved has (presumably) got off scot-free.
 
With “er indoors TM off bowling I settled myself on the sofa underneath a pile of dogs and watched the fourth episode of “Squid Game: The Challenge”. It was rather good. Now it’s finished I shall have a little kip; I’m not going to move until the dogs wake up. If a dog falls asleep on you, you can’t move them. It’s the law. Even if you desperately need the loo.

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