The internet is an amazing thing… This morning
on my Facebook feed a vague acquaintance announced his amazing discovery that
so much of it isn’t actually free but is paid for my advertising. Which is why
there are so many adverts on it. How can supposedly intelligent people take so
long to realise this? And some American evangelist was claiming that atheists
ate deep-fried embryos whilst his own Twitter feed was offering that the
chap would pray for you for a price.
Meanwhile I had an
email – my credit rating has gone up again. That was nice.
Seeing the sun was out
for a change (he typed cynically!) I got the leads on to the dogs.
Morgan wasn’t keen on the idea. Strangely he never is. He clearly loves the
walks when we get to the woods, but never wants to actually go.
As we drove up to the
woods the pundits on the radio were talking about how today marks the fortieth
anniversary of the miner’s strike. Several experts were
wheeled on including Neil Kinnock who was the leader of the opposition at the
time. The observation was made that the
leadership of the miners made a bit of a balls-up in waiting until the country
had stockpiled loads of coal and waiting until the worst of the winter was over
before starting the strike. Neil Kinnock made the observation that everyone
involved in the coal industry knew its days were numbered and it would have
been far better had everyone made the effort to invest in transitioning away
from coal than in flogging a dead horse. At the time the country was divided on
whether or not to support the miners; I think my father summed it up when he
made the observation that it was already cheaper to import coal from Poland,
and then the miners chose to go on strike anyway.
We got to the woods and
walked one of our usual walks. As we went the dogs found a dead blackbird to
roll in. And after one of their mad charges into the trees, Morgan came back
carrying a dead squirrel. He got to within ten yards of me, looked very
sheepish and ran into a thicket where he dropped it. Bailey picked it up and
seemed very pleased with herself.
I managed to get it off
of her and I put it up a tree where the buzzards will see it off.
I’m pretty sure Morgan
just picked up a dead squirrel and didn’t kill it himself; in the past when
Treacle, Pogo and Fudge had small animals, the things would be twitching for
some time after death. This squirrel wasn’t twitching at all.
Dogs can be foul
creatures…
We came home where I
made a cuppa, then I went into the garden, cleared the patio area, set up the
pressure-washer, turned it on… and nothing happened. I gave it a clout and it
made an odd noise. So I unplugged it and attempted to take it apart to see if I
could fix it. The screws holding it closed seemed rusted in place. I gave it
another clout, plugged it back in again and it worked perfectly. I got the
patio and the area outside the kitchen window scrubbed, but it took some doing.
Have you ever
pressure-washed a patio? After a very short bit of pressure-washing the ground
is soon awash with filthy black water which needs to be swept away. Sweeping it
down the drain is OK for five minutes, then the grate over the drain blocks up
and needs unbunging. By the time I’d washed, swept, washed, swept and tidied
up, a couple of hours had passed. I put everything away and found that after
all the exertions I could barely move.
I settled myself in front of the telly and
watched episodes of “Four in a Bed” in which those claiming to have years
of experience of running five-star hotels were outdone at every turn by those
running a B&B for fun.
“er indoors TM” boiled up dinner and
went off bowling. I sparked up Netflix and watched a film. “The Mercy” starred Colin
Firth as a competitor in a single-handed round-the world yacht race in 1968. I
won’t say too much about the film for fear of giving spoilers, but I will make
the observation that with today’s technology you would have been far more alone
sailing the world alone then than you would be now.
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