I didn't have the best of nights - I never do with an alarm
set. I gave up trying to sleep, got up and made toast. I turned on the telly
and it told me there was no internet connection (again), but that didn't
stop me watching an episode of "Piglets" which was sadly let down by
the props department. A major part of the storyline is that there are two
police superintendents competing for the job of chief superintendent. The rank
insignia on the uniforms of both of these characters alternate between
superintendent and chief superintendent from one scene to the next. A trivial
point but you'd think that someone in the production team would have noticed
something so vital to the plot? Wouldn't you? Well, I did.
Leaving “er indoors TM” and the dogs
fast asleep I set off to work listening to the radio as I do. This morning
there was some program about psychotherapy and religion in which it was claimed
that the two were mutually contradictory, and several psychotherapists with
varying degrees of religious conviction were wheeled on. They each disagreed
with pretty much everything the others said and didn't seem to convince anyone
of anything.
This was followed by an interview with some Kentish
raspberry farmer. I say "Kentish"; the chap originally came to
the UK from Bulgaria over twenty years ago. It was interesting listening to him
speak. He said that as time has gone on it has become more and more difficult
for immigrant workers to get working visas, but apparently despite the
difficulty is is far easier to ship someone half-way across Europe to pick
fruit than it is to get anyone born in the UK to pick the stuff. He claimed
that every year he has to ship in two thousand staff.
As I drove up the M20 I counted nine cars driving down the
"HGVs only" bit of Operation Brock.
I got to work. I did my bit. I'd rather not work at the
weekends. Quite honestly I think I'd rather not work at all. It is becoming
something of an inconvenience. To be honest working has been an inconvenience
ever since I started my first paper round in 1978, but there it is.
At lunchtime I popped to the works canteen. They had eggs
Florentine. I'd not had that before - poached eggs in some sauce or other
served with spinach. Bung in a decent helping of chips, chocolate pudding,
custard and change out of a fiver you really can't go wrong.
As I scoffed I had a look at the Internet. The Facebook
page about Lost in Space was hosting another argument today. Yesterday there
had been squabbles about the height of the robot. Today someone was talking
about having met one of the characters as he'd walked down Main Street
yesterday. This chap flatly refused to
be drawn on where "Main Street" was, and wouldn't be told that
the actor he claimed to have met actually died over twenty years ago.
And I saw there’s another
new geocache in Longbeech Woods. There’s something to do on Tuesday.
As I drove home “er indoors TM” sent
a message. There were a couple of issues with her series of geocaches at
Badlesmere. Being a rather beautiful evening I suggested we might go for a
little walk to sort the problems.
Badelesmere is a rather good place to walk about… but there
are a *lot* of pheasants in the area. The dogs did get rather
over-excited and had to be on the leads for much of the way. As we walked we
were thinking of a crafty half at our old favourite the Red Lion at the end of the
walk… such a shame that they close at six o clock on a Sunday evening.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a very
good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of half-way decent white
wine. As we scoffed and drank we watched more episodes of “Below Deck”
in which the crew started porking each other.
Beasts…
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