There was quite the argument happening on one of the
Hastings-based Facebook pages I follow this morning. Some family of four have
parked their caravan and a derelict bus by the park there and are living in the
caravan whilst they are doing up the bus with a view to eventually be moving
into it. Apparently this is just one of several loads of people living in
caravans in the area. I can’t say I blame them; why live in a house and pay
council tax, or live in a caravan and pay site fees when you can just park on
the roadside.
The locals are understandably up in arms about it; but no
one seems to be prepared to do anything other than whinge on Facebook.
All the time the knacked bus is parked outside someone
else’s house, no one cares. This sort of thing has been going on for years… I
can remember back in the early eighties when a gaggle of “caravan dwellers”
moved into the staff rest room of the now-demolished Royal East Sussex Hospital
and we all had to take our breaks in the public waiting areas.
And I had an email. The geocache we hid yesterday was found
for the first time this morning at ten to eight. To get there for that time the
chap who found it must have left home before seven o’clock. On reflection
that’s probably a rather good time to be going through the woods. I was once up
there at six o’clock with Pogo and Treacle; the mist was beautiful and we saw
deer too.
I took the dogs up to the woods for our walk. Yesterday the
place was having with people; today we saw one woman on her mountain bike, and
an organized hiking group who looked like they were kitted out to climb Everest,
and no one else at all once we were more than a hundred yards from the car park.
We had a good walk; the dogs didn’t see any squirrels, but
I saw quite a few.
Once home, after a cuppa I cracked on in the garden. More
fence painting. So quick to type, so tedious to do. I got five panels done in
four hours, then went down the road to see the dental hygienist. She gave my
gob a serious seeing-to and said I should make another appointment for six
months time. So I made an appointment. The receptionist asked if I wanted it
before or after my appointment with the dentist in six months time. I told her
that was a decision for them; she said it didn’t matter. I said it did; some
dentists insist I see the hygienist before them, others say after. The
receptionist and her mates laughed; all the dentists have different opinions.
You’d think they’d make a decision, wouldn’t you?
Another cuppa, then we did the feeding the fish ritual. The
dogs get rather over-excited at the prospect of some dried koi food.
With fish fed I looked to feeding us. Bearing in mind some
of us have more time on our hands than others it has been suggested that I
might like to boil up scran from time to time. I had a vague idea to make a
right balls-up of it and not be asked again, but that runs the risk of a kick
in the nads and being told I need the practice.
I nearly fell at the first hurdle; where do the saucepans
live? And the new cooker isn’t the easiest to operate. Eventually I boiled up
leftovers into a half-way decent curry. I’m not sure that “er indoors TM”
was impressed but I quite liked it. Next time I’ll used diced chicken rather
than whatever I randomly find in the freezer.
We followed it up with Christmas pudding and cream. The Christmas
pudding was rather rubbery; after I’d scoffed it, “er indoors TM”
announced it was a year out of date.
Oh well… I survived the volcano burrito…
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