I slept reasonably well. Apparently “er indoors TM”
didn’t. The pleasant fragrance of Pogo’s farting woke her at three o’clock and
she spent quite a bit of the rest of the night letting him out to the garden.
Over brekkie I had my usual root around the Internet.
Here’s a sign of our times; the future of Littlehampton’s annual bonfire parade
is looking shaky. Thousands
of people flock there every year for the fun, but not enough people are
volunteering to help out.
And people wanting to go to nearby Camber Sands are facing four hour traffic jams to get
there. Personally I can’t see the attraction of sitting on the beach, but what
do I know? Someone else was posting that Camber Sands was a dog friendly beach.
Seriously? With all those people about? The phrase “dog friendly” is one
which needs a lot of qualification. When Camber Sands is billed as a “dog
friendly” beach that means dogs are allowed on there. However “friendly”
implies they are welcome and wanted. I’m pretty sure most of the holidaymakers
swarming there don’t want dogs in their way. In the same vein there’s a pub in
the Medway Towns which is billed as “dog friendly”. It has a petting zoo
in the garden the smells of which send dogs crazy.
I got the dogs organized and we went out to the car. As I
drove I was hoping “Desert Island Discs” would be on the radio; it often
is shortly after nine o’clock on a Friday. But it wasn’t. There was coverage of
the Paralympics instead. I turned the radio off. For me sport is something that
is done. Watching someone else doing sport is rather dull for me, and listening
to someone shrieking about the sport he is watching isn’t riveting.
We soon got to the woods. Following the success we had at
Orlestone a little while ago I thought we’d try there again. The dogs came when
called, and we didn’t see anyone else at all. There was one other car in the
car park, but we saw no one as we went round. Morgan chased a squirrel the size
of a fox, and Bailey rolled in something foul; a good walk was had by all. We
will go back.
For all that Kings Wood is good for a long walk, it is a
twenty minute drive away. And Longbeech is ten minutes further on. We can go
from putting leads on at home to letting the dogs out of the boot at Orlestone
in nine minutes.
As we walked I experimented with my phone in airplane mode.
Where we are going on holiday in a few weeks’ time is classified as “rest of
the word” by my mobile provider. Mobile data is charged at four quid per
megabyte and I dread to think what receiving the spamming texts and phone calls
will cost. But I want to use the phone as a camera. Airplane mode worked for
that, and as an added bonus the GPS and geocache app seemed to work too.
With walk walked we came home. I washed the fox poo from
Bailey then popped up to the corner shop where I got an almond croissant. I got
one for “er indoors TM” as well; I’m kind like
that. I sparked up the lap-top and as I so often do before the late shift I wrote up some CPD.
As I sorted out a simulated blood transfusion complicated
by the vagaries of the Duffy blood group
system there was a knock at the door. The postman had a parcel.
Or to be precise, postwoman. I could see she was a postwoman from what she
wasn’t wearing. To be honest she would have appeared more demure had she
delivered the parcel stark naked.
And so to work… and as is so often the way on the late
shifts, everything of note today had happened by mid day.
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