This morning I rolled my eyes as I peered into the
Internet. Some idiot was claiming that the Titanic never sank; it had
supposedly been switched with another ship which was then deliberately sunk for
the insurance money. It’s a stupid idea which has long been disproved, but still
other idiots were lapping it up.
It was also claimed that some twit had paid three pounds
fifty for an artisan dwarf cabbage only to get
a Brussels sprout, but a couple of clicks showed me that this was from the
Sunday Sport. Back in the day we used to get the Sunday Sport every Sunday. It was brilliant. They had
reports of the Lancaster bomber on the Moon, a donkey robbing a bank, a London
bus at the South pole… Apparently the Sunday Sport is still going. Must get a
copy.
My cousin was posting that she would be hiring a camper van
for a week over the summer. I’d like one of those if only I had anywhere to
store the thing. Keeping it at home is an advert to burglars when you use it
and it’s not there.
Bearing in mind yesterday’s debacle I spent a few minutes
seeing if I could pogger Google Maps so as to avoid the country lanes when it
is doing the sat-nav. It would seem that quite a few other people had had the
same issue in that Google Maps sees a dual carriageway A road being of equal
worth as a six-feet-wide twisty lane, but no one had a fix.
And I looked at the prices of public transport. A family
friend has moved to Newcastle. A coach takes more than twice as long to get
there as a train does, but costs a tenth of the price.
Once dog brekkie was done I got the dogs on the leads and
we went down to Orlestone. With a hot day on the cards an early shorter walk in
the shade was the plan for the morning.
As we waked we met a very talkative young lady jogger in
skin-tight lycra who might as well have been in the nip for all that her
jogging kit was keeping secret. And we met some ornithologists. I asked a
question that has been preying on my mind for some time. According to my
birdsong app (and what I can hear myself) there are far more birds (and
a greater variety) to the south-east side as opposed to the north-west side
of Orlestone. I have no idea why, and neither did the twitchers.
We came home and I had a little pootle in the garden. I
cleaned out both pond filters, ran out the hose and topped up both ponds, and
then “My Boy TM” and ”Auntie Chel TM”
arrived. They’d been having a tidy-up in their garden and had an old planter
and some timbers that were destined for the tip. Did I want them? Yes please. I
can use the planter, and I have a plan for the timbers. And there was an Easter
Island head statue going begging too. I had that as well.
The first fruit of my loin and his entourage set off to the
tip. I then set about the roots of that which I salvaged from the bog filter a
week ago. Yesterday I wrote “The stems have had it, but something new might
grow from the roots”. I pruned the things yesterday, and overnight there
has been growth. So I chopped the root mass into four separate lumps and topped
up the water that they are in. Hopefully they might grow into entire new
plants… not that I need them to do so, but it would be nice.
After an hour I came in. It was too hot to carry on
outside. I played chess against the bots with varying degrees of success until “Daddies’
Little Angel TM” came home from her appointment. I drove
her and Pogo home. It was seven degrees cooler in Folkestone.
I came home, and carried on using the heatwave as best I
could by putting loads of washing onto the line to dry out. In between the
washing I did CPD. There was
so much I could have done today. I need to finish painting the fence. I need to
do something with the timbers that the first fruit of my loin brought round. I
should really mow the lawn. But with temperatures in the low thirties I just
sat on the sofa and did as little as possible.
Today has been a wasted day… it has just been far too hot.
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