This morning there was a message on my phone. Despite my
having turned the wi-fi off before I went to bed last night, it had decided to
scan the wi-fi at half past midnight and told me that it was safe to use. I
wish it wouldn’t keep doing what it pleases.
I had my usual look at Facebook over brekkie. A friend who
organizes Ghost Walks had been approached by the BBC asking if he knew of any
haunted toilets. In one of the hospitals where I work there is a haunted
toilet. Seriously!! For years there would be all sorts of toilet noises coming
from the next cubicle even though no one was ever in it. After a few years I
came out of that loo and turned left and left again (rather than my usual
right) and found there was a ladies that I didn’t know about which was on
the other side of the wall.
I’m rather disappointed that the loo wasn’t haunted…
I had some emails. The nice people at Credit Karma told me
my credit rating was excellent, and my next update would be sixteen days ago(!)
I also had a string of “Found It” logs from someone who had walked round
my geocaches in Kings Wood and had found some of them. They’d also logged “Didn’t
Find It” on six of them, so that was my morning sorted.
I picked up six replacement geocaches, loaded them and the
dogs into the car and we set off to Kings Wood. As we drove I listened to the
radio. It would seem that the general public’s satisfaction with the NHS is at its lowest ever. Public
opinion is a fickle thing, isn’t it? A few short years ago the masses were on
the doorsteps clapping like demented sealions about how brilliant the NHS was;
now they think it’s a load of crap. The trouble is that the masses want more
and more whilst spending less and less. Someone or other being interviewed on
the radio hit the nail on the head. This woman pointed out that the NHS is a
victim of its own success. Now that people aren’t dying of preventable diseases
in their youth, and now they’ve seen the folly of smoking things which will
kill them, people are living longer and longer. Money spent on curing patients
with one set of ailments is effectively giving a whole load of patients with
another.
Perhaps I have a vested interest, but for those who would
find fault with the NHS I’d suggest going private and seeing how much that
costs you.
We got to the woods and took a little walk around those
geocaches which had been reported as being missing. Three were missing; three
were exactly where they were supposed to be. Finding myself with a spare
geocache in my pocket I found somewhere at the very far end of the woods where
I could hide a new one, and hid it. To find it you need to solve a very simple puzzle.
We came home for belly washing, and I then painted the
garden pond cupboard and the bench which goes by the pond. I used green as a
bit of a contrast to the fence colour, but the green paint is a bit watery.
Maybe after three of four coats it might look half-way decent.
I then made a start at disassembling the old garden table.
It has to be said I never liked the thing, and I’m glad it’s gone. It was
rather mildewed and mouldy. The new garden table arrives at the weekend
apparently. The old one is in large bits at the moment. I got it so’s I could
stack the components against the shed for disassembly, popped to the loo, and
the rain started.
I’ll take it apart another day.
I then drove out to Henwood – the geocaching banner I’d
ordered was ready. It looks rather good.
As the rain fell so I cracked on with ironing whilst
watching episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which a pub with rooms, a
glamping site, a castle and an American Diner competed. The people who ran the
castle had been doing so for forty years and felt they would win because of
their experience; everyone else had been in the game for only a few months. The
people running the castle came last.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a rather
good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of plonk whilst watching
more “The Traitors: Australia” in which various idiots have to root out
a secret cabal using nothing more than guesswork. It is strangely engrossing.
No comments:
Post a Comment