I woke in a sweat in the small hours last night following a
nightmare in which I'd been press-ganged into NASA. Their top scientists had
discovered that underneath their space suits all the female astronauts were
actually nudey ladies without any clothes on. Bearing in mind my rejection of
all the dubious women (and others) that regularly send me friend
requests on Facebook, the head honcho at NASA had decided that I was the best
person to take a moral stance should any of "that nonsense"
kick off on the upcoming
Artemis Moon missions. Apparently
he'd also had this idea that because I had experience of keeping
snakes I'd be the ideal person to be in charge of space dinosaurs on the
Moonbase.
I woke to find Morgan huddled up to me but on the outside
of the bed. I'd gone to kip closer to the middle of the bed last night and the
silly pup hadn't been able to get between me and “er indoors TM” and
was in danger of falling off the edge. I moved him to safety and then hung off
the edge of the bed myself for the rest of the night.
I made toast and started watching something new. "Brassic" seems
relatively entertaining, but it played for rather longer than I'd thought it
might and I didn't have time for my usual early morning mooch round the
Internet.
I set off to find my car, slaloming round the recycling
bins which had been randomly abandoned by the bin men. As I drove to work the
pundits on the radio were interviewing some bloke who was something in the
office of the energy watchdog. Apparently the government has announced that the
price cap on household energy bills will be raised.
This means that the average family's power bill will go up
by ten per cent this autumn. Leaving aside the fact that no one can afford
this, it strikes me as odd that the government puts a limit on how much the
companies can charge for gas and leccie. How can the companies possibly keep
going if they have to pay so much to get the gas in the first place but the
government will only allow them to put up the bills by half the amount they are
having to fork out?
And there was a broadcast from the Green Gathering Festival where
the organisers were getting rather shirty about all the other festivals. The
woman being interviewed was ranting about the massive clean-up operations and
the carbon footprints of all the other festivals. She was proud that her
festivals didn't have a single diesel generator on site, and all the
refreshment and drink stalls insisted you brought your own cups and pint pots
along. Mind you she got even more shirty when it was suggested that the
batteries her festival used were charged from rather mucky power stations. And
she wasn't at all happy to be told that the people selling drinks at the stalls
were actually secretly providing cups and pint pots as no one was bringing
their own.
It struck me that she probably had rather high blood
pressure for a supposedly hippy-type
I got to work and went to the League of Friends shop for a
cheese scone. The League of Friends and the works canteen both sell exactly the
same thing - a cheese scone and a pat of butter. But one charges thirty-five
pence more than the other.
The League of Friends shop always sells out first. There
really are those who wonder why.
Work was work. It usually is. At tea break I saw there were
three new geocaches in Longbeech Woods. Had they gone live yesterday I could
have had a cheeky First to Find. Oh well... they will give me something to do
next week.
And during a dull moment I had a look at the Internet. Some
crackpot has used data from India's Moon
mission of a couple of years ago to find dinosaur
skeletons there.
Or so he thinks.
I came home, and once she’d boiled up some scran “er
indoors TM” set off out on the razz with her mates.
Buried beneath a pile of dogs I watched more “Brassic” in which him who
played Grumio in “Plebs” was having a conversation with his penis.
Quality telly.
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