I heard a dog jump off the bed at four o’clock this
morning, but by the time I’d leapt up it was too late. There was a small pie of
turds by the back door. I let the smallest two out into the garden (Treacle
was still fast asleep) before we all went back to bed.
I dozed though till when “er indoors TM” ‘s
alarm woke me at half past seven. It woke me – it didn’t wake her though.
I made toast and had my usual root around the Internet. It’s
been a while since I last had any dubious friend requests, but I had one this morning. “Letex”
hails from the Philippines and would like to chum up with me, but so far hasn’t
put much on his/her/its Facebook profile, which is probably for the best.
“Letex” has twenty-one friends on Facebook – that is
more friends than sense, really. I wasn’t going to make it twenty-two.
I read that the geocaches along the river Medway that need
a canoe to get at are being archived soon. I wonder if they will be replaced.
We had fun with our inflatable canoe when we did those.
I saw there was a new geocache just down the road… with its
first find logged twenty minutes after it went live.
Not having been woken by her alarm I prodded “er indoors
TM” awake, then set off to Folkestone. As I drove the pundits on
the radio were interviewing Caroline Lucas (the Green MP) who has written a book about how
you can go about being proud of being British without shaving your head,
stomping round shouting “Ing-Ur-Lund” and harping back to the glorious
days of Empire.
It needed doing.
This was followed by talk of an updated version of
Shakespeare’s plays. They’ve been updated with emphasis on being performed. It
would seem that generations of schoolkids forced to read plays written in
medieval English (and never acted out) have formed the idea that
Shakespeare’s plays are a load of old tripe. Which is certainly the opinion I
formed after sitting reading frankly incomprehensible drivel.
I got to Folkestone,
picked up “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” and “Darcie Waa Waa TM”
and took Pogo to the vets. He’s having a biopsy on a rather ugly lump on his
leg. As we left him he was screaming the place down. Poor Pogey.
We had McBrekkie; toffee caramel latte and super-McMuffin
with bacon, egg and sausage. Very nice. I dropped the girls back home, then
dropped the littlun’s car seat back with “er indoors TM”.
I set off up the motorway to work. Needing petrol I went to
the Aylesford Sainsbury's petrol station. I've used that place for years but it
has been closed for the last couple of months for a refurbishment. Seeing it
was open I went hoping for great things... it looked just the same as it used
to.
Work was work. During the afternoon I got the message that
Pogo was home from the vets. He was a little groggy from the anaesthetic, so “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” put him in
a crate where the littluns couldn't bother him too much. I wonder if I might
borrow that crate?
And shortly after that I had another message. Another
woman(?) of dubious morals wanted to be my Facebook friend, and in order to
sway my decision she'd sent photos of her "toys"; she had
quite an extensive collection of rubber accessories.
Why do these people do this? To persuade sad suckers to
send money on the promise of a mucky photo that you can get for free by turning
off the Google safe search?
The late shift was a tad like hard work. They can be
sometimes. I’ve now got a few days off…
No comments:
Post a Comment