3 April 2025 (Thursday) - Painting Gnomes

Last night I made a start on painting my new garden ornaments. Finding myself awake earlier than I might have been this morning I cracked on and got the Rupert statue painted. He looked a bit boss-eyed if you look closely… and rather scary too. I shall stick that statue somewhere in the garden where people won’t look that closely.

 

I made toast and had my usual rummage round the Internet. It was still there. Not much was happening on social media, but there was a post on the “Blood Bank Professionals” group. I follow several work-related groups on Facebook; partly out of a desire to learn something, and partly out of a sense of utter amazement at what goes on in America. In the UK we have strict national standards to which we must adhere, and everyone does just that. In the USA there’s either no standards at all, or if there are they are treated as guidelines that you might wish to follow if you could be bothered. Time and again people are posting “what would you do if…” to Facebook and then describe a scenario for which I’ve had written instructions for as long as I can remember.

Bear this in mind when you want to vote for someone who advocates an American-style form of healthcare in which your treatment is that advocated by the first person to post to a random Facebook group.

 

I had an email too. Some time ago (16^th January) I wrote to my county councilor and my MP about the flooding at the underpass by Asda. Both replied promising to look into the matter. Overnight the MP replied. He’d been on to the county  council and been told that “it is not viable to provide remedy of flooding at this location. Even if the wall was extended, the area forms a low point so rainwater and surface water from higher ground would continue to collect with no means of escape. The council has no control of the source of flooding in this instance so there will be some instances where the route will unfortunately be unavailable for use until the river levels recede”. The obvious answer would be to find the source of the flooding and consequently who does have control of it but, as I replied to my MP, he’s actually taken time to look into the issue.

I suppose that if nothing else I now have the name of someone at Kent County Council who knows something about the matter. I’ll get onto him and ask him what is the actual source of the flooding.

Bearing in mind my county councilor is up for re-election I’d have thought he might have taken the time to reply. Having said that, my MP has paid staff to reply for him. Do county councilors have paid staff to do their bidding?

 

I also had an email telling me about a geo-event in Viccie park later in the month, and I saw that someone had found that geocache I didn’t find on Monday.

I tried to Munz, but the Munzee website was poggered. So instead I Wordled. Starting with “plate” I worked through “dream” to get “shear” on the third go.  

 

I put a load of washing in to scrub then took the dogs to the woods where we had a rather uneventful walk right up till when we got back to the car park where we met two women who had at least ten dogs between them. They recognized me, and commented how I never wanted Fudge and now I’ve got three dogs. I wonder who they were.

 

We came home. I made a cuppa then cracked on in the garden. I hung out the washing, mowed the lawn, cleaned both pond filters, topped up the water filters, got out the garden table and then feeling that I needed a rest spent the afternoon painting gnomes. Those things are surprisingly heavy, and I felt my back twinging as I moved them about. Painting four gnomes took over four hours, but it kept me out of mischief.

My dad used to make garden gnomes. His were really good, but people kept stealing them. I wonder if I might make some – but by the time I’ve got moulds and mixed the cement it’s a lot of farting about. Especially when Whelans are knocking them out for a fiver.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up bangers and mash which we scoffed whilst watching that new thing on UK Gold featuring Martin Clunes and Neil Morrissey on a little holiday going round France. It was claimed that Neil Morrissey now lives there. His page on Wikipedia doesn’t mention it.

 

My face is glowing – I think I caught the sun today. And my back hurts again.

2 April 2025 (Tuesday) - Dead Butt Syndrome

A few weeks ago we had a run-in with a rather over-excitable horse which I reported to the public rights of way people at Kent County Council. Overnight I received an email from someone called Denis  saying that “Dangerous animals and livestock incidents are enforced by the HSE (Health and Safety Executive)”. I told Denis that a month had passed and it was all rather late.

It must be wonderful to work in a job that has absolutely no urgency.

 

Once I’d scoffed toast and watched another episode of “Orange is the New Black” I got ready for work. I went to my car which was absolutely miles away, brought it to the now vacant parking space outside the house and unloaded all the stuff I got in Whelan’s yesterday. One of the biggest problems with the late shifts is my being unable to park anywhere remotely near the house when I get home. Last night I drove past the house and then circled the local streets for twenty minutes trying to find a parking space. As did at least six other cars that I saw driving round also all trying to park. The trouble is that people don’t park sensibly. Bays that could hold seven cars have five as no one gives a thought as to how they are going to abandon their car.

 

I went round to the co-op to get dinner. Once I'd fed my loose change into the self-service machine I saw Martin getting his shopping. We chatted for a bit, then I set off to work. As I drove the pundits on the radio were playing recordings of yesterday's parliamentary debates. I say "debates"; "petty bickering" would be closer to the truth. Those elected to run the show were squabbling like ill-behaved brats. I was reminded of the fruits of my loin quarrelling when they were small and very tired. Perhaps if someone were to send the MPs to bed with slapped arses the country might be in a better state.

This was followed by an interview with the head honcho of the British Butterfly Brigade who said that butterfly numbers have been on the decrease for fifty years. He also said that buddleias are good for butterflies, so I'm doing my bit. Even if unintentionally.

 

I got to work and did my bit. As I skived so a contingent of senior managers from other local hospitals came through. As they wandered past one of then cheerfully said "hello Dave". I wonder who he was?  Something similar happened yesterday as well. As I was putting petrol into my car the woman at the next pump said hello and started chatting. She clearly knew me even though I had no idea who she was.

And then a colleague was complaining that she was in pain after running on account of her having "lazy glutes", or "dead butt syndrome" to use the technical term.

Apparently people who run or walk a lot get this if they stop running or walking for any length of time... which is probably why a long dog walk is hard work if I've not taken them out for a while.  It turns out that one of the recognised treatments for this condition (in sports clinics) is infusions of the injured person's own platelets. Platelet transfusions are something I oversee every day... but autologous (your own platelets) transfusions can be given for a range of conditions including sports injury and hair loss.

I might just over-over from NHSBT and rub a couple of doses on my head.

 

I was glad when home time came – I think I might have over-done the lifting what I emptied my car earlier. My back was rather tender.

As “er indoors ^TM” boiled up dinner I spotted she’d had a haircut. Go me. We had a rather good bit of dinner which we washed down with a bottle of chianti. Bearing in mind my being up at silly o’clock this morning I’m hoping this will have me fast asleep before too much longer.

1 April 2025 (Tuesday) - Before the Late Shift

After a night filled with vivid dreams of being neck deep in private ponds attempting to harvest water lilies I woke with a rather bad backache. Being the first of the month I shaved with a new razor blade (I’m mean – I make them last) then had my usual look on-line.

Yesterday I’d asked on one of the pond-related Facebook pages if anyone knew anywhere selling cheap lilies. Amazingly there weren’t that many smartarse replies. It seems that there are water lilies for sale for a tenner – in places like Liverpool and Manchester.

For some reason today’s Facebook feed was filled with adverts for matresses. I did a sleep test – my sleep chronotype is “dolphin” . Apparently “dolphins” are ten per cent of people, and they sleep like I do. My sleep score is sixty-six not that this means anything to me.

 

I munzed, wordled (piece – meter – level – jewel).  I saw that the geocache I’d chased after yesterday had been replaced. I couldn’t be arsed to go chasing it again. Instead I took the dogs to Orlestone Woods. It can be muddy there, but it is a shorter walk and closer to home. We went there, had a good walk round the woods and were home about two hours earlier than when we come home from Kings Wood.

 

As we drove home the pundits on the radio were discussing meetings in the workplace. It was claimed that the average person spends over twenty hours a week in meetings and is still expected to do a full time job, and that many people are doing the actual work in their own time in evenings and weekends.

I can remember when I was a manager telling my boss that I didn’t want to go to any more meetings. He knew what he wanted to happen and we could all save time by his simply giving out orders. He replied that I wasn’t a team player.

I also once put in a formal suggestion that a random time of day be picked, and anyone found in a meeting anywhere in the hospital at that time be summarily sacked as they clearly weren’t doing any work. That didn’t go down well.

I was once ordered to a meeting to discuss our workplace’s approach to another upcoming meeting, the outcome of which had already been decided (but we still went through both meetings).

Meetings are an utter waste of time… why do so many people love them.

 

I uploaded last month’s diaries to the backup, put my winter shirts away and got out the summer ones (I change shirts at daylight saving time) and got ready for the off.

 

I went to Sainsburys to get some petrol. I got lunch whilst I was at it, and then set off up the motorway singing along to Ivor Biggun songs. With a little time on my hands I took a small (forty miles) diversion up to Sheerness and Whelans to get some more garden odds and ends. With most places selling garden gnomes at about ten to fifteen quid, Whelans knock them out (unpainted) for a fiver. I got gnome paint and gnome varnish as well. And an unpainted Rupert Bear statue whilst I was at it. Hopefully gnome paint will do for Rupert; if it does, that will give me something to do on my next day off.

 

As I drove back down Detling hill I saw that petrol there was seven pence a litre more expensive than what I'd just paid in Ashford. I smiled a smug smile. The smug smile lasted until I got to the Aylesford Sainsburys where their petrol was five pence a litre cheaper than what I'd paid. That's a variation of twelve pence per litre in twenty-five miles. It pays to shop about.

I bought a box of half a dozen beers for the weekend and some tennis balls for dog club, then went on to work. I parked up... and fell asleep.

Fortunately  I woke in time for the late shift and as is so often the case all the good bits of the day were over and done with by the early afternoon. I don't dislike my job like I used to... but sometimes I do find that work is hard work...