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28 February 2024 (Wednesday) - Frogs, Pangolins, Guts Ache

Last night I made a point of making sure my phone’s connection to the internet was switched off. And again this morning there were no end of messages on it. How does it do that?
I peered into the Internet over brekkie to see if I’d missed much, and whether it had been worth my phone’s effort to keep up with what was happening.
It wasn’t really.
I sent out birthday wishes to two friends on Facebook, and thought about Vivian Barr who was in my class at school for the seven years that I was at Red Lake Primary School. Today is her birthday. We weren’t particularly close during that time at school, and I think I’ve seen her once since I left that school in 1975, so why do I always remember her birthday?
One of the Facebook groups I follow (about AI generated pictures) was embroiled in a religious squabble. After something utterly unrelated some god-botherer had tried to claim the moral high ground, and had been asked why his god needs people to do its will. Why can’t it do stuff for itself? Sometimes I despair – large swathes of the world (including much of America) really are still in the dark ages.
Rather than mucky adverts, this morning my Facebook feed was filled with adverts about the plight of pangolins. Poor little things. I’m keen to make a donation to protect them, but I found myself with several competing charities and not knowing which one to support.
 
I didn’t have as much time on my hands today as I might have had, so we had a shorter walk than usual. We went to the park. The episodes which Pogo used to provoke don’t seem to happen with Morgan and Bailey, but we had a minor one this morning. As we walked past the playpark bit so some small child called to the dogs. Personally I quite like littluns petting them; it gets both sides used to the other. But before I could do anything, mother announced “give them a snack” and suddenly Morgan and Bailey were scoffing heaven-knows-what. Seeing my face, mother said that it was OK, and it was only a snack. I asked if it was poisonous to dogs, mother announced that it was only a snack. When I told her that chocolate, onions, grapes and raisins are all a no-no, there was a look of horror followed by a stony silence.
The dogs seem fine; I’m sure they are. But I do wish people wouldn’t feed random crap to random dogs. I’ve had people in the park feeding Fudge chicken bones in the past.
 
We came home as the drizzle got worse. I gathered a bumper crop of dog turds from the garden, then set off to work (as today was a work day!) and sang along to my rather eclectic choice of music as I went. After a few miles I realised I'd not made a sandwich, so I stopped off at the shop in Sissinghurst to get some lunch. They do rather good pasties in there. They do a lot of good stuff (their beer selection is second to none) but they don't give it away. Today they were selling a particular brand of wine that is two quid a bottle cheaper in Sainsburys.
As I queued to pay so my idiot magnet kicked in. The old duck in front of me in the queue was jabbering on at anyone who would listen; seemingly oblivious to the world around her. Having been prompted to pay for her shopping (several times) she eventually handed over some money. And then just stood there wittering on. She had to be told (several times) to take her change, and eventually the woman behind the till decided that enough was enough, and loudly told the old biddy to pick up her shopping and go away.
It was with a sense of relief that I drove away.
 
I got to work where all the Munzees in the works car park looked rather odd when I called up the Munzee app. They all had a frog picture. Capping a frog gave you extra points today; it's a Leap Year thing.
Work was work; I spent the day with something of a stomach ache. Last night I finished off the stilton which I opened last week when I found it was past its sell-by date. At the time I thought it tasted a bit odd...

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