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.
No comments:
Post a Comment