5 February 2024 (Monday) - There Was Cake

Surprisingly I slept rather well, but ached when I woke. I seriously ached. What was that all about? If I'm going to be aching like that after a couple of hours walking yesterday, it don't bode well for the future, does it?
I made brekkie and turned on the telly. As I was about to turn to Netflix for "Peep Show" I found myself watching some infomercial for a mattress which was being advertised by the same woman who last week was flogging some food blender, and the week before was flogging something else I neither needed nor wanted. She seems to have claimed the "5.30am on the Obscure Channel" slot as her own. Mind you whilst it is easy to be sarcastic, in claiming it she has achieved far more than many other wannabes have done.
As I watched "Peep Show" I sorted undercrackers and socks, and again had an odd sock at the end. Odd socks amaze me. Where do the missing ones go? On reflection I think Morgan eats them.
I set off to work via a Tree House up Christchurch Road (it’s a Munzee thing), then came home for everything that I'd forgotten to collect when I'd first set off. Work pass, lunch... the stuff I really needed.
I then headed through the town centre to get a dozen Points of Interest Munzees, and with them sorted I headed up the motorway.
My piss boiled as I drove up the motorway. Partly because of all the lorries slowly overtaking each other thereby forcing all the cars into the fast lane, and partly because of the day's news. Apparently asylum seekers wanting to remain in the UK are abandoning whatever superstitions they brought with them and converting to Christianity in a shallow attempt to aid their applications. It speaks volumes about the sad state of the world that in the third decade of the twenty-first century people still take religious twaddle seriously.
I got to the works car park and spent ten minutes on a Munzee mission on one of the nearby estates deploying briefcases (as one does) before heading in.
There was cake at tea-time. And as I peered into Facebook at tea-time I saw something else that boiled my piss.
As a child I went to the Boys Brigade. Looking back, that was a mistake. The Boys Brigade was nothing more than a shallow attempt to brainwash small children into god-bothering. Shortly after I started I took a friend along with me. Looking back it is clear that this friend was exactly the sort of person that the Boys Brigade preyed on. His father had died when he was very young. When we were at primary and secondary school together he used to latch onto all the male teachers desperately seeking a father figure. He idolised the chap who ran the Boys Brigade, fell for all the religious twaddle, and is now a Baptist minister in the West Country. I follow his church on Facebook (I really shouldn't) and this morning he was leading their "Prayers at 10" live broadcast. I could see that this live broadcast had two viewers (I wonder who the other one was), and there was my old mate spouting complete gibberish, clearly loving every minute of it, and getting paid to do so. His broadcast finished at about the same time as my tea break ended, and then I suppose he was done for the day. Unless, of course, the need for an emergency platitude to be blathered arose.
I spent much of the rest of my day either doing blood tests or wondering which of me and my old mate was the daft one.
I came home and geo-puzzled until “er indoors TM boiled up dinner. Then with her off bowling I set about the ironing. That only took an hour. I then spent half an hour on my quality management course and got eighty-five per cent in this week’s quiz.
I’m going to do some more geo-puzzles, then see if I can get some kip.
And in closing, Ian Lavender died today. Famous for playing Private Pike in "Dad's Army", he was the last surviving main cast member of the series.  Like Bill Mumy who I mentioned the other day, it would seem he too peaked early in life. It must be so annoying to only be remembered for what you did fifty years ago.


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