22 December 2023 (Friday) - This n That

I slept reasonably well, despite “er indoors ^TM” going ballistic in the small hours that she couldn't find Bailey and that she'd searched everywhere for her. Bearing in mind that Bailey was cuddled up with me in bed and I was half asleep I (we) left her to her searching.
 
I got up when the need to tiddle was too much to resist, and as I was up I made toast and turned on the telly. I caught the end of an episode of "Takeshi's Castle" which is now called "Takeshi's Castle featuring Jonathon Ross". Does it need his name on the title? I suppose this is what being a celebrity is all about.
As I listened to the bin men shouting up the road outside I then had a quick look at the Internet. A friend was whinging on his Facebook feed that his dog had asked to go outside at half past two, and once outside chased a fox round the garden, barking like a thing possessed. I laughed; this sort of thing is funny all the time it is someone else's dog and some distance away. Still, someone else's dog, bin men... they all wake us up.
 
I got dressed and set off. I navigated my way through the abandoned bins to where I'd parked my car. Yesterday on one of the local Facebook pages I'd seen a post about how you used to give the dustmen a Christmas box back in the day. Back in the day the dustmen would put the bins back properly. I had to hop over the garden wall (not that it's very high) this morning as the discarded bins were blocking up the path.
I drove to the petrol station at Sainsbury's to fuel up for the long weekend. There was already quite a lot of traffic in the car park at quarter to seven, and once I'd got petrol I joined the growing queue in the kiosk to pay. We waited and waited because there was some chap blocking the only open till. He wasn't happy; he was loudly shouting and ranting at a captive audience about the wanton greed of everyone who was out of bed so early this morning. Ironically this chap was in full Sainsbury's uniform.
I considered pointing out that I wasn't out of bed so early by choice. I considered pointing out that only a couple of years ago he would have been standing on the doorstep clapping for me like a demented sealion. But I thought better of doing so. It is always best not to aggravate the idiot element.
 
As I drove to work the radio was a tad depressing. If there weren't interviews with correspondents in war zones across the world, pundits were giving their sage opinions on the mass shooting that happened in Prague yesterday. Why do people go on these killing sprees? Surely there is no need for the public to have guns?
And then there was an interview with someone or other who was a leading light in the country's hospices. It seems that pretty much every hospice in the country gets two thirds of its income from charity. Apparently this is how the public want it - there is (supposedly) more shame in dying in an NHS-funded hospital than in a charity-funded hospice.
I drove to work behind a Sainsbury's lorry. Not that it is possible to go very fast down the country lanes, my car told me I averaged twenty-seven miles per hour on the journey to work.
 
I got to work and did my bit. I didn't want to today. I spent much of the morning telling anyone who would listen about the first "last day before Christmas" I ever did at work at the (now demolished) Royal East Sussex Hospital in 1981. Pretty much all of the patients had gone home; there was almost no one in the hospital at all over Christmas back then. The person on the night shift came in at mid-day and we all went down the pub. After a couple of hours heavy drinking we staggered back to work, got in the way for a bit, then set about a bottle of whiskey in one of the offices before getting the bus home about four o'clock.
Happy days.
Sadly today's workload was just like any other day at work. But at mid-morning the boss asked if I could go to Maidstone for the rest of the day. I told her that I would be delighted; by the time I'd said goodbye to everyone at Pembury, driven fifteen miles cross country, found somewhere to park, and then said hello to everyone at Maidstone a couple of hours (or more) would be wasted. I don't think she was impressed. But I set off to Maidstone anyway, singing along to Ivor Biggun songs as I went.
I got to Maidstone to find a pre-Christmas buffet was on the go. I scoffed far too much.
 
It was a shame that the motorway was closed on the way home. Having averaged twenty-seven miles per hour on the way to work, I averaged twenty miles per hour on the way home. When you consider how much money was spent on this “Operation Brock” shambles and how much inconvenience it has caused, when there is an issue, the motorway is just closed. Someone at the Kent Highways department is demonstrably incompetent and should be sacked. I wouldn’t get away with it, would I? Would you?
 
Once I finally got home “er indoors ^TM” went shopping. I put some washing in, fed the dogs, and had a few minutes sitting with the dogs. There’s something very relaxing about sitting with the dogs when they are quiet.
There was talk of fish and chips for tea… I hope she’s home soon.