I woke to the sound of “er indoors TM”’s alarm.
“er
indoors TM” didn’t though so I prodded her a few
times to no avail. Eventually I realized I was prodding Bailey.
I got up and opened the next window of today’s Advent
Calendar, if only to give the voices in my head something to ponder whilst I
scoffed brekkie.
As I set about my toast there was quite the argument
on one of the Facebook travel pages that I follow when some woman was furious
that he M25 motorway was open today. Apparently some pedestrian got killed on the motorway yesterday,
and this idiot woman felt the motorway should be closed today as a sign of
respect.
Someone else posted to another group about what a
boring fellow her neighbour was as he had taken up calligraphy (posh
handwriting) and for want of anything better to copy, was copying out the
Bible. Someone was banging on about how they did that at school and he’d copied
out psalm 119 which turned out to be the favourite psalm of quite a few people
commenting on that Facebook post. For those of my loyal readers who aren’t
among the righteous, psalm 119 sings the praises of being a do-gooder. I was
tempted to ask where these people stood on psalm 137 which states “Happy is
the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks” (look
it up!) but thought better of doing so. Most so-called Christians get
rather upset when you show them that they haven’t actually read their bibles.
I got the dogs into the car and we set off to the
woods. As we drove Desert Island Discs was on the radio. Today’s castaway was Ebony
Rainford-Brent. No – I’d never heard of her either. It
turns out that she was the first black woman to play for the
England women’s cricket team. She seemed a rather interesting person. I quite
like listening to Desert Island Discs as I’m a very nosey person and there’s
quite a bit about people’s lives on the show. It’s just a shame that nearly all
of those interviewed either pretend to like one of three types of music;
pretentious classical rubbish, operatic howling, or frankly dire dirges.
We got to the woods and had a good walk. Yesterday I
mentioned how quiet the place was. It wasn’t quite so quiet today. As we walked
we met another group of dog walkers who were very quick to tell me that the
brown spaniel in their group wasn’t their dog at all. Clearly they hoped that
dog was with me. The dog seemed to be quite happy walking with them though.
Half a mile on, just at the point where we occasionally see deer I could hear a
whistling and some shouting. That brown spaniel’s daddy wasn’t happy. And was
even less happy when I told him the dog was half a mile away and going in the
wrong direction.
Needless to say that what with all the racket he was
making we didn’t see any deer today. Not even the dead one – the carcass had
gone. Had the ranger cleared it away?
As we got close to the car park so we walked up to the
car with a professional dog walker. And as we got to the car so Mabel’s mummy
drove up. I opened my car’s boot and announced “Boot Dogs”. Both Morgan
and Treacle jumped in the boot to the amazement of the onlookers. I get rather
smug when they do as they are told. I told them that Bailey is too small to
jump as I loaded her in.
We came home to have tummies washed. For once no one
had rolled in muck, and it wasn’t long before all three dogs were snoring. I wrote
up some CPD, then pondered today’s Advent story before spending the
afternoon watching episodes of “Four in a Bed”. This afternoon a
particularly porky young lady and her even chubbier father delighted in finding
petty fault with all the other establishments in the competition, and then
pulled out in a strop when it became clear that for all their faults everywhere
else was streets ahead of what they were offering.
“er indoors TM” set
off to see her dad (what with it being his birthday). I didn’t go. More
and more Treacle is proving too noisy to be left unsupervised. Instead I had a
shower and settled myself in front of the telly for another telly-thon. I
started off with Downton Abbey in which the footman James was caught in flagrante
with Lady Anstruther (and they were doing the dirty deed too). And then we had the cliffhanger of the second
season of “The Empress” in which the Emperor went off to battle in the
Second Italian War of Independence. Hardly a cliffhanger though as Wikipedia tells
us the chap was still alive fifty years later.
In between telly I dishwashered and laundried. I didn’t
spend the entire afternoon and evening watching telly.
Just most of it. Being semi-retired was all very well
in the summer when I had stuff to do in the garden. It is becoming rather dull
right now.
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