I slept rather well last night despite a rather vivid
dream in which everyone at work (except me) went down with a plague of
zits. What was that all about?
As I scoffed toast I peered into the Internet and saw
an update from Hazel O’Connor. Famous in the eighties she eventually moved to
France where three years ago she had a stroke, and is now dependent on Go Fund Me to pay for ongoing care. It must
be awful to have to beg like that, but long term care after a stroke doesn’t
come cheap. I remember when my Dad had a stroke I fully expected to sell his
house to pay for nursing home costs.
I had several emails. We met a couple of people
geocaching in Kings Wood yesterday; it turns out that quite a few people had
been up there searching for Tupperware.
I had an email from Uswitch – I’ve signed up with them
and it would seem that despite what everyone claims, EDF really are far cheaper
than Octopus.
I tried to Munz but my phone wasn’t having any of it.
I re-started it and was able to Munz and Wordle, but the chess app wasn’t
working. Probably for the best as “Daddies’ Little Angel TM” was
about to hand me my arse on a plate (again).
Being Saturday we all went round to Repton for Dog
Club which was fun (as usual). Morgan rather disgraced himself by
getting over-excited, but it was nothing that a little time-out didn’t solve.
Dog club is always fun; there’s usually three things going on: Games of chase,
hoping for treats, and games of dog-piggy-backs.
As we drove home we listened to Steve on the radio and
I was three years out on the Mystery Year competition. Total Eclipse of the
Heart? I thought 1986. I thought wrong.
It was good not to have to bath the dogs when we got
home. We had a cuppa with a hot cross bun, and I counted up the contents of the
Dog Club collection pot, pocketed the cash and transferred that amount (plus
nine quid for my three) to the Repton people’s account.
I had a quick look in the garden to plan a shopping
list from the garden centre for tomorrow, then set off to work. I soon lost
reception on Radio Ashford, so as Steve receded into the fizzing and
crackling I turned to my rather wonderful MP3 stick and sang along to Sparks,
ELO and Ivor Biggun as I drove up the motorway. It was surprisingly nippy as I
walked from the car park into work; I couldn't help but think that a week
previously we'd been sitting in the sunshine in the beer garden eating an
al-fresco dinner.
Work was work. It usually is. Back in the day Saturday
afternoon and evenings at work would be nothing but the occasional sample from
the A&E department as everywhere else in the NHS was closed. Nowadays
there's probably between ten and twenty times the workload. But the staffing
numbers remain constant and I won't mention the pay. But I've got a (part-time)
job which I actually like which is more than many have. I'm not complaining.
I came home. I only drove round the local streets for
ten minutes trying to park this evening. As I walked down Beaver Road I found
myself peering through the window of The Locomotive. The nearest pub to home; “My Boy TM” used
to play for their pool team. For years it was a thriving place. This evening at
half past nine there were four people in there. I counted them.
It can’t stay open for much longer…
Today was really good right up until dog club ended…
at ten to ten. It was a tad dull after that.
No comments:
Post a Comment