The bin men came up the road this morning
around six o’clock. Not able to make quite as much noise from plastic bins as
they’d like, they shouted across the street to each other as they went. I
expect they were sulking from not getting what used to be a traditional
Christmas bonus.
I made toast and looked
at the Internet. My brother was at Brighton and Hove Albion’s football ground
waiting for the coach to take him and his pals to Stoke on Trent. Google told
me it was a four hour drive and that the match didn’t start for another eight
hours.
This morning there were
interesting squabbles on Facebook pages about “Game of Thrones” and “Star
Trek” both featuring people who’d never watched the TV shows. The squabble about “Game of Thrones”
made me laugh out loud; some chap openly admitted he’d never watched the
program but still had an opinion on it.
Facebook told me that a
Facebook friend was having a birthday today. I had a look and vaguely
recognised the name. Looking at our mutual friends I *think* I used to
work with her about fifteen years ago. Facebook is good for keeping in touch
with friends I’ve not seen for ages, but I also find I’m keeping in touch with
people I barely knew at the time (and that time was “yonks ago”).
Perhaps I need to have a little cull on my list? I had a little look at it;
there were eight less people on it than there were the last time I looked.
Perhaps some obscure acquaintances had already dumped me? Cheeky!
Being Saturday we drove
round to Repton and Dog Club. It was perhaps a tad nippy which probably
explained attendance being down. It does take a certain hardy sort to stand in
a field for forty minutes in January. But the dogs had a whale of a time. There
was a minor episode when Bailey wouldn’t stop bothering the bigger dogs, then
screamed in terror when they tried to play with her. To be honest we’ve got a
vague idea that Kai (one of the biggest dogs) sees Bailey as some sort
of mobile squeaky toy.
Having missed the “Guess
the Lyrics” competition on the way to Dog Club we listened to all the clues
for the Mystery Year contest as we drove off. Elvis Costello, the bear in the
Scottish Highlands, Blondie… surely it was 1978? I was two years out. 1980.
Rather than going home
we drove up to Boxley where we met Karl and Tracey and had a little walk. Karl
and Tracey have a series of geocaches in the area and several people had posted
“Did Not Find” logs so a maintenance mission was in order. There weren’t
as many missing as we’d been led to believe; there rarely is.
As we walked we saw
quite a few off-road motorbikes vooming about. Getting permission to put
geocaches on what is a Site of Special Scientific Interest took the best part
of a year, but no one seems at all bothered about the thug element motorbiking
all over it. I suspect no one is brave enough to stand up to the thug element.
I’m not going to.
We came home, washed
lumps of mud off of the dogs (Morgan!) and I had a little doze until
Chris arrived. He’d brought round his Infinity
Table and with it set up half a dozen of us played “Ticket to Ride”;
a rather run game which I can only describe as “Risk on Trains”. I won the
first game though I have no idea how.
We had a rather late
end to a rather busy day…
As always I
took a few photos.
No comments:
Post a Comment