Last night’s shift wasn’t bad, but I was still
glad when the early shift rolled up. Pausing only briefly to scrape the ice
from the car’s windscreen I was soon driving down the motorway listening to the
pundits talking drivel on the radio. The Prime Minister has got his way getting
Parliament to agree (in principle) to sending asylum seekers to Rwanda. Am I being
harsh in thinking that not a single one of those coming over the channel in
small boats is actually an asylum seeker? I don’t deny they are felling from
something nasty, but the moment they arrived in mainland Europe they were safe
and in a position to seek asylum.
There was also talk of
Pakistan and Iran hurling missiles at each other.
Am I being hopelessly
naïve in wondering why people can’t make the effort to get on with each other
for a change?
I got home, had a
shower and a shave and went to bed for a couple of hours.
On waking I took the
dogs for a little wander round the roads. I’d had a message that one of my
nearby geocaches had gone missing. It had, so I replaced it.
We came home, I put the kettle on and had a
couple of croissants (that were going cheap in Sainsbury’s last night)
for a late brekkie, and put on a film. “The Football Factory” is an old favourite
of mine; is it really twenty years old? As I watched I shared a bag of pork
scratchings with the dogs. They seem to like pork scratchings.
And then I had my look at the Internet. It was still there; not
much had happened since I’d had a look in the small hours whilst at work. So I
made a cuppa, cut myself a lump of Christmas cake, and dozed in front of the
telly watching episodes of “Peep Show” until “er indoors TM” came home.
The trouble with doing a night shift is that once I’ve done
one, I’m no good for anything and so the day after a night shift is effectively
a day wasted. Having done the ironing on Tuesday evening, the highlight of
today really was sharing a bag of pork scratchings with the dogs.
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