I woke to the sound of a thud as Treacle jumped off the bed
at four o'clock. Less than five seconds later she was whimpering and crying
because she wanted help to get back on to the bed. Once back on the bed she
made herself comfortable.
I gave up trying to sleep and got up.
Being the first of the month I got out a new razor blade.
I'm mean - I make them last for a month. As I made toast I saw the lights were
on next door. Not-so-nice-next-door seems to be up and about very early
in the mornings, and now it is darker in the evenings I've noticed all the
downstairs lights off and the bedroom light on at half past eight in the
evening. I must admit that given the choice I'd got to bed early and get up
early. If I could I'd set off for the dog walks in the dark and get to the woods
for dawn. I doubt I'd be given the choice though.
I scoffed my toast watching another episode of "Everyone
Else Burns". In today's episode the crackpot preacher was arranging
marriages for his flock. Back in my religious days no one ever went quite that
far, but we were certainly told what was and was not suitable pre-marital
behaviour. Although I was beginning to turn to the dark side when it happened,
the vicar did come round and tell us off when he heard that we were "living
in sin" in Folkestone.
I had a little look at the Internet - last night was
Hallowe'en. I completely forgot about that. It seemed from the local Facebook
pages that nowadays you don't have kiddies banging on people's doors demanding
sweeties any more. These days the etiquette seems to be that you put a huge
bowl of sweeties where you can see in with your doorbell camera and leave it
for the kiddies to help themselves. You record what happens, and then you judge
children on how much they take. And post photos of the greediest ones to social
media.
That caused one or two squabbles.
I got dressed and woke “er indoors TM” who
needed to move her car. What with the idiot decisions of the local highways
people there were a few dozen less parking spaces locally last night, so the “er
indoors TM”-mobile spent the night on double yellow lines.
She moved her car into the space I left before she got a ticket and before
anyone else had that space. You might think that moving a car before six
o'clock a tad keen, but I've seen traffic wardens out and about at half past
midnight before.
Pausing only briefly to get petrol I was soon off up a dark
motorway. But at least it wasn't raining today. As I drove the pundits on the
radio were talking about David Goldstone. Having been involved with Transport
for London, the UK Olympics and HS2, the chap is now heading up the
government's Value for Money office. Only
having to work for one day a week and being paid at nine hundred and fifty quid
a day, he's laughing all the way to the bank. How do you get tickets for that
gravy train?
And there was talk about ex-Harrods boss Mohamed Al Fayed.
Apparently the Metropolitan Police were told of allegations of sexual assault done by
this bloke a decade earlier than the Met would have us believe.
But it's all largely irrelevant as (yet again) the
chap has been dead a year. What are the Met going to do? Stick his corpse in
the dock?
Work was much the same as ever. I did my bit, and then came
home to find the builder having a look at the bathroom. “er indoors TM” wants
to get the bathroom done. Presumably not in the same way that the dogs have
been “done” but what do I know? I suppose a nice new bathroom might be
nice.
There’s rumours of cracking open a bottle of plonk shortly…
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