With no alarm set I slept like a log eventually waking to
the sound of Treacle having a sneezing fit just before eight o’clock. I made
toast and had a look at the Internet.
Yesterday I saw a comment on my old primary school’s
Facebook page from a name I recognized. I sent a friend request, and now I’m in
touch with another of the old gang. “Nobby”
was in my first class at primary school. We were at school together from that
first day in September 1969 up until I packed up with school eleven years
later. We were great mates; often going fishing together. We were both in the
Boys Brigade; albeit in different groups. And bearing in mind what the Boys
Brigade is all about it’s not surprising that he’s ended up being one of the
leading lights of the happy-clappy church where he now lives. One of the main
things putting me off organizing a reunion of the old gang is that so many of
them are now very religious, and I am not.
With “er indoors TM” in the office today
she set off leaving us home alone. I set the washing machine going and took the
dogs up to the woods. As we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about
the government’s plans to ban all forms of sex education for the under-nines.
Various experts and windbags were wheeled on; it would seem that there’s quite
a variety of opinion as to what the phrase “sex education” actually
means. It’s not just the mechanics of doing the dirty deed; it’s who or what
you want to do the dirty deed with, at or on. And what you consider yourself to
be whilst doing it.
It's all a bit of a minefield really; I’m best off not
getting involved.
We got to the Kings Wood and went on a rather longer walk
than usual. At the weekend some German chap hurried round the woods as fast as
he could seeing how many geocaches he could find. Bearing in mind there’s over
a hundred he rather rushed and logged quite a few (ten) “Did Not Find”
logs. I always check on those just in case the thing really is missing… Two were
missing. I replaced them. The chap also logged that one was broken. I replaced
it. He could have replaced it; I carry replacement pots just so I can do
running repairs. You can replace a broken pot quicker than you can log that
there is an issue.
As we walked I heard a loud bell. Some woman had attached a
loud bell to her dogs so that she could hear where they were. We met her just
as Morgan and Bailey had wandered off. I mentioned that they had gone
walkabout. Immediately the woman pointed over my shoulder and said “what
cute dogs”. I said that would be mine. “I don’t think so” she said.
I turned to see Morgan and Bailey, and then had a rather surreal conversation
with this woman who had never encountered anyone with multiple dogs that look
different to each other.
I thought it best to gloss over Morgan and Bailey being
from the same litter.
We came home for a bath. Well, the girls needed a scrub.
Treacle had been belly-deep in the mud and Bailey had rolled in something foul.
Morgan was rather clean, but he jumped in the bath anyway.
With dogs scrubbed I hung out the washing; the morning’s
drizzle had given way to a bright afternoon. I thought about pootling in the
garden, but contented myself with harvesting the dog turds. I then had a go at
Bailey with the trimmers I use on my own head. I think she looks a bit tidier
now. Amazingly she didn’t fight; she seemed to take being sheared rather well.
I expected “er indoors TM” would take one look and lay an
egg. But she came home, scoffed the dinner I’d boiled up and didn’t seem to
notice.
As we scoffed dinner we watched the second episode of the
new season of Doctor Who. After yesterday’s rather dull episode, this evening’s
one was perhaps the best episode of Doctor Who for years.
Let’s hope this continues.
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