3 March 2026 (Tuesday) - Early Shift

I woke at half past four feeling like death warmed up. What was that all about? I got up, made toast and sparked up the telly. I watched an episode of "Everybody Else Burns" with a wry smile. Have you seen the show - it's about a family of religious crackpots who go to a loony-fundamentalist church. For all that we all laugh at the religious nutters, being an ex-religious nutter myself the show struck a chord. I could see myself and many of the people with whom I used to go to church in that show. And looking back they really were "the people with whom I used to go to church" and (for quite a few of them) not "friends". 

 

Taking care not to disturb “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs I got dressed in the dark and set off to work. The moon was quite pretty as I drove, but by the time I found somewhere that I could park which had a decent view of the horizon the moon had set and the sun was up.

As I drove I listened to the pundits on the radio. Over the weekend that idiot Trump has started yet another war in the Middle East. For all that he keeps banging on about wanting a Nobel Peace Prize, he's quite keen on war. He's been lambasting the Prime Minister for not wanting to get involved. I can't help but think that the more that the international community treat that idiot Trump like the idiot that he so demonstrably is, the better. 

 

I stopped off at Tesco in Pembury to get a sandwich. I paid by filling the self-service machine with all my loose change. Unlike Sainsburys in Aylesford no one seemed to care. As I walked out I noticed there were two security thugs guarding the door. There were four security thugs on guard at Hastings railway station as I came home yesterday. Guarding places seems to be something of a growth industry; why does everywhere need to be guarded these days?

 

I went in to the early shift and did my thing. As I did, I spent much of the day thinking about yesterday's meet-up with my old muckers. The pals I met yesterday have pretty much ended up just like me. Not rich. Not poor. Probably best described (as my old boss in the Harbour restaurant predicted forty-five years ago)  as "comfortable".  I can remember my old boss from the Harbour restaurant telling me that I would be comfortable in life... and he said that being comfortable in life was about the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Was he right?

From our chat yesterday I think it's fair to say that all three of us are pretty much content with our lot in life. But we'd all expected to end up in a far better position bearing in mind what we'd been led to believe from having listened to all the propaganda about a grammar school and university level education. Yesterday we'd talked of others in our circle who'd ended up with much more than we have. Don't get me wrong - I'm not jealous (well, not *that* jealous), but I did think "what if" quite a bit today.

Some of our contemporaries were (and some still are) directors of international companies, admirals, ambassadors... Would I have liked to have ended up as a consultant surgeon or a university professor? Had things turned out differently I might have been, but would I have been happier? I'm reminded of that famous maxim quoted by many celebrities that at various times they'd been very poor and very rich, and looking back they preferred very rich. And also of another which says that money doesn't buy you happiness, but it allows you to be miserable in comfort. As I've often said, I'm far from poor, but I would like to be a whole lot better off.

Are those of our contemporaries who are now millionaires happy? Yesterday we talked about one of them who (like me) has posted a lot of photos to social media, and we all agreed that in every single photo he looked incredibly smug.

Like I would be with his money…

2 March 2026 (Monday) - Reunion

Apart from a rather vivid nightmare in which we’d moved house to somewhere with no light switches I had a rather good night’s sleep.

I got up at half past seven, made toast, and my piss boiled. I try not to rant about lefty woke bollox because I’m probably quite a woke lefty myself, but my piss boiled as I read what George Takei had posted to Facebook this morning. Apparently if you are perpetually late for work because you are too bone idle to get your arse out of bed, you can just claim to have “time blindness”. And it is a real thing too.

I Munzed, Wordled from “house” through “scare” and “spine” to “slime”, then got ready for the off.

 

Leaving “er indoors ^TM” with the dogs I walked up to the train station and got a ticket to Hastings. Again the price charged at the counter bore absolutely no relation to what I’d been quoted on-line.

Getting the train was quite an adventure; I’ve not been on one for a few years. But it wasn’t long before I was in Hastings. I rummaged by a billboard near the station for geocachical reasons and found a geocache there. I then walked over the West Hill where I failed to find three others, but I redeemed myself by finding three in the Old Town. And having constructively (!) spent the morning I went down to the First In Last Out where I met up with a couple of old friends. One was over from Canada who I’d not seen since 1982. Another has been on my Facebook list for some time, but we’d not met in person since 1995.

We spent a rather good three hours catching up, remembering old days. One of us retired from programming Canadian computers nearly ten years ago, one of us is semi-retired from blood testing, and one spent years in the pharmaceutical industry and now makes (among other things) night vision goggles. All with the same start in life; all now completely different… But it was as though only a few weeks had passed.

It was so good to catch up. We really must do this sort of thing more often.

 

All too soon the clock had beaten us. We walked back through the Old Town and into Hastings. The place has changed beyond all recognition. When I lived there the Old Town was very run-down and Hastings itself had all the shops. Now the decent shops are all in the Old Town and Hastings itself is just… well… “grim” is probably the best word to describe it.

In a novel break with tradition I stayed awake all the way home…

1 March 2026 (Sunday) - Wet Sunday

Apart from two trips to the loo in the night I had a good night, finally getting up at half past nine. I’ve not laid in for that long for ages.

I started the morning with something of a technical failure. “er indoors ^TM” had set the toaster to “crumpets”, and when you put bread in on that setting it just warms the bread a little. But there’s no point in trying to put the warmed bread back in again to finish the job because the toaster just takes offence and then incinerates it.

And then my lap-top refused to do anything with any speed. Re-booting eventually sorted it out.

 

Having finally got on-line, I saw there wasn’t a lot happening really. My Facebook feed was filled with adverts for static caravans and holiday chalets. I looked at a couple of sites last night after watching the Danny Dyer program… not that I could see very much of my Facebook feed. For some inexplicable reason the feed screen was perpetually scrolling down. What was that about? If there was a key stuck then this would have stuffed up every other website I visited, but they were all fine. Just Facebook being a pain.

Another re-boot sorted that.

I Munzed. Being the first of the month I chucked everyone out of the clan in readiness for the Clan War starting on Tuesday. I Wordled from “being” through “tread” and “scope” to “fluke”, then got ready for the morning.

 

It was raining but we went to the garden centre. We had a voucher from Christmas to use. We looked at bedding plants… they only had polyanthus and we’ve still got them from last year. We got some pansy and viola seeds; I’ve got compost and seed trays. I can have a go and if they haven’t grown by the end of the month I can get some from the garden centre when they say they will have some in.

We took the dogs with us. It wasn’t much of a walk but taking them to Dobbies meant they think they’ve had an outing. Making sure that Morgan was marched up the centre of every aisle stopped him peeing on things… but once again the award for *not* taking a dump in the garden centre went to Bailey. What is it about Dobbies that has such a laxative effect on Treacle and Morgan?

 

We came home via the little row of shops in Singleton where we got a cake for lunch… and we got talking to some woman who was a tad distraught. As she’d driven round a nearby roundabout so a passing car had crashed into her car; taken much of the front off of it, and then sped off.

What would you do in a situation like that? By the time you realise what has happened the other car is well out of sight. I had something not entirely dissimilar when I was driving to see my dad when he was in Eastbourne hospital. A white van was coming head on at me, and by the time I’d smashed up the side of my car that van was well away. As the insurance company chap said, these cars are probably not insured.

 

We came home. It was raining; I can do the seeds in the week. We had a cuppa and some cake, and I wrote up the week’s continuing professional development. I have to stay abreast of the latest developments in blood testing. Everyone who is a registered medical professional has to stay up to date with their field. It’s a legal requirement and a really good idea too; when I first started back at the now-demolished Royal East Sussex Hospital it was amazing how out of touch some people were.

The biggest problem with doing CPD is actually finding out about the latest developments in blood testing. Not that there’s any shortage of information, but for every one bit that is useful to me there’s a dozen bits of utter irrelevance from commercial companies trying to sell things, or stuff written in what amounts to a foreign language from managers trying to impress the easily impressed.

 

I did the dogs’ flea treatments which went rather easily today. It’s a simple process. Each dog has a little tube of jollop which I rub on the back of their necks. Sometimes (like today) I just rub it on the back of their necks whist they sit nicely. Other times I have to chase them round the house, wrestle them down and pin them to the floor to get the stuff anywhere near them.

And with not a lot else planned for the day I opened up the Lego maple tree set I’d got for my birthday last week and spent a couple of hours putting it together. I’m quite pleased with how it’s turned out.

 

I read my Kindle for a bit until dinner time when “er indoors ^TM” boiled up a very good roast which we scoffed whilst watching the semi-final of “The Floor” and then I refereed “dog afters” when the pups each got a bowl of vegetables covered in chicken fat. It was good to see Bailey eating something. She really tucked in, and told Morgan off when he’d finished his and came looking to her bowl for extras.

In retrospect little Bailey might have had too much. She does look very bloated. I expect there will be some farting later…

28 February 2028 (Saturday) - It Didn't Rain

I slept reasonably well. I woke t half past six, got up and made toast. As I scoffed it whilst peering into Facebook I was presented with a few adverts asking for people to volunteer to help as a scout leader. Lucy Spraggan (no – I had no idea either) was saying that all you needed was enthusiasm and a willingness to get stuck in. I was once asked to volunteer to help as a scout leader, and whenever I hear people being asked to do this I always feel the need to voice a note of caution. When I got involved everyone asking for help was so quick to say that scouts was just an hour a week. They would all gloss over the fact that the weekly meeting lasted for two hours. Then there was the preparation for that weekly meeting which generally took up another evening each week. There was always at least one scouting event (outings, district sporting competitions…) which took up one weekend day every month. There were three weekend holidays away with the scouts every year, as well as the week-long summer camp. Add on to this various committee meetings on whatever weekday evenings you had free. And any spare weekend time would be spent on fundraising to subsidise the parents who drove bigger cars than the one I had and who lived in bigger houses than I did…

The gratitude for becoming a helper didn’t last long, and very soon became guilt-tripping when my every moment wasn’t available for scouting.

Anyone thinking of volunteering to help with scouting needs to make it crystal clear exactly just how much time they can offer. The more you offer, the more scouting will expect (and take).

And there was an impressive squabble happening on one of the Geocaching Facebook pages in which some idiot was whinging that the Geocaching corporation didn’t sell good flashlights (or “torches” as they are called in the UK). Apparently when geocaching, every bit of kit you use has to bear the “Geocaching” logo. For some inexplicable reason this idiot was adamant that he couldn’t use just any old torch.

There wasn’t a lot else of note on the Internet this morning. I sent out birthday wishes to the two Facebook friends who were having a birthday today, Munzed, and Wordled from “today” to “hydra”; how many other words have a “D” in the middle and a “Y” not at the end?

 

As I fiddled on-line so Steve was on the radio. Guess the lyrics today was “what happened to the girl I used to know”. No – my immediate reaction was that I didn’t have a clue until Steve mentioned that it was from one of his favourite bands. The penny dropped - ELO – “Don’t Bring Me Down”.

 

Being Saturday we drove round to Repton and Dog Club. It was rather cold and rather muddy today, but the forecast rain didn’t come whilst we were there. Treacle played with one of the children. I say “played”; the little girl tried to get the ball from Treacle, and Treacle tried not to let her. Morgan charged around and played rough and tumble with his mates. And Bailey just stood and shivered until I stuffed her inside my coat. Bailey is a worry. I took a few photos as I do… and fed one into ChatGPT.

As we drove home so Steve was doing the Mystery Year competition on the radio. In which year was the first website created and Helen Sharman (the first British astronaut) go into space? 1991.

 

We got home. Grubby dogs were bathed and I counted the Dog Club takings. Bearing in mind the subs is one pound fifty per dog, how can we end up with an odd forty pence?

And with the car parked directly outside the house and rain forecast I had ideal conditions for pressure-washing the front garden. It didn’t take *that* long to set the pressure-washer up. I scrubbed the concrete at the front of the house three times, and swept away seemingly gallons of mucky water. As I scrubbed and swept so not-so-nice-next-door was coming in and out of her house with no end of boxes and bags and three or four suitcases. Was she going on holiday or moving out? As she came in and out she glared at me, and (sadly) that was probably as communicative as she gets. It’s such a shame… She’s been next door for close on thirty years and makes absolutely no attempt whatsoever to even try to be civil.

 

“er indoors ^TM” went off visiting relatives for the afternoon. With the forecast rain still not arrived I cracked on in the garden and got the lawn mowed. I say “mowed”; it was more along the lines of a preliminary scalping. The first cut of the year is always something of a rough and ready one, but a cut lawn makes finding dog turds a lot easier. 

 

I might have overdone the morning’s pressure-washing and lawn mowing, so I settled in front of the telly with the dogs and sparked up Netflix. “The Holdovers” was a rather entertaining film, as was “Margaret Thatcher – The Long Walk To Finchley”.

As I watched the telly I kept glancing at the window. Still no rain, and still stuff I might be doing in the garden. But still I ached.

 

“er indoors ^TM” came home with kebabs which we scoffed whilst watching “Danny Dyer’s Caravan Park” which was a rather good TV show about someone who used to be in EastEnders who had bough a part-share in a caravan park in Leysdown.

It was surprisingly captivating…

 

And as I’m thinking about bed it didn’t rain at all today, and not-so-nice-next-door is in and playing her piano…

27 February 2026 (Friday) - Bit Dull

I  had a good night’s sleep which was something of a result, but I did ache when I got up. That’s happening more and more these days. Am I overdoing it on the dog walks?

 

I made toast (with strawberry jam) and had a look at the internet. I was immediately presented with a little fundraiser to give nurses a little thank-you pressie. Good old nurses… I’m not doing them down at all, but no one ever thinks about the pharmacists, gardeners, porters, cooks, radiographers, speech therapists, cleaners, dieticians, biomedical scientists, audiologists, cardiologists, secretaries, IT technicians, drivers, phlebotomists, chiropodists, paramedics…

I also saw that five Facebook friends had a birthday today. I sent out birthday wishes.

I Munzed as “er indoors ^TM” tried to get Bailey to eat her brekkie. For all that she is tiny, she’s a very fussy dog and has to be watched as she is easily bullied off of her food. She will leave a full bowl after getting just one glance from Treacle.

 

Despite the drizzle I took the dogs up to the woods. As we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how the Greens won the recent by-election. Reform UK came second and the Labour party were a poor third. But a poor third was rather better than the Conservatives and Dribbling Democraps managed.

No one seemed to want to mention that over half of the electorate didn’t cast a vote, so that the winner was chosen by maybe one voter in five.

 

We got to the woods and had a shorter walk than we often do. For the most part we stuck to gravelled tracks to try to avoid the mud. Our walk was mostly uneventful. We didn’t chase anything, we didn’t roll in anything. At one point we heard something heavy crashing in the trees, but we didn’t see anything. Probably deer. As we walked the drizzle let up, which was probably for the best.

 

We came home where the pups had bellies washed and I sorted a cuppa and a bit of cake for us both. I Wordled from “often” (which gave me nothing) to “dizzy” via “plaid”, “diddy”, “dicky” and dishy” and then popped over to Dobbies to get the second ultra-violet bulb I needed.

I had a vague plan to take the pressure washer to the front garden, but when I sweep the water into the gutter I’d rather not gunge up anyone else’s car. So being unable to park outside the house I thought better of that plan.

Instead I went to my fallback position of watching episodes of “Four In A Bed”. The first place was run by an aggressive screaming queen who underpaid everyone and criticised everyone for doing that which he did himself. The second place was something of a neon nightmare run by a rather pretty boy with some woman who was either his lackey or his mail-order bride (I couldn’t decide which). The third place was a campsite run by a very loud woman with her GBF, and the last place by someone who could have been everyone’s favourite auntie. They were all really friendly right up until payments were made, and then there was some serious falling out. It speaks volumes that the place that had shit stains on the towels came second.

I then amazed myself by beating the bots on chess dot com.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a very good pasta bake which we scoffed whilst watching last week’s episode of “The Floor”. We’re now watching the “Eddie The Eagle” film. I can remember the real “Eddie the Eagle” coming last at the Olympics… I can distinctly remember a song about him in the comedy show “Who Dares Wins” which had the chorus “That’s what being British is – we love you if you’re crap”.

I wonder if I can get that on DVD anywhere?  

26 February 2026 (Thursday) - Pressure Washing, Telly

I had a good night’s sleep which was something of a result. I got up at seven o’clock, made toast and had my usual look at the Internet.

There was an interesting post from “The Great British Pub Crawl” who probably made a mistake when answering a question about how he chooses his list of pubs to visit when goes to any given town. There was one particular pub in a town he’d visited which would (apparently) have been on any serious drinker’s itinerary but he hadn’t visited it. When asked why he hadn’t been to that one he said that they place had been approached to sponsor him and they’d chosen not to do so. I found myself reminded of a conversation I once had with the then manager of the Ypres Castle pub in Rye. At the time the place was far and away the best pub in Rye, but the manager openly admitted they would never get into CAMRA’s “Good Beer Guide” because he refused to put on the sumptuous buffet the judging committee expected to be given when they came round to inspect.

I wonder if CAMRA still operate that way? I was a member for years and was never once asked my opinion about my preferred local pub. I would just be told the decision made by the local committee.

And I sent out birthday wishes to someone who I thought was a lot older than me… but turns out to be a lot younger.

 

As I peered into the Internet so the bin lorry came up the road collecting the garden waste. They were a whole lot quieter that last Friday’s collection had been; not a single swear word was shouted up the street.

I Munzed, Wordled from “older” to “lance” via “leave” and “latte”, and got ready for the morning.

 

I drove the dogs up to the woods. As we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about Gianni Infantino who has been the president of FIFA for the last ten years and apparently has worked wonders for international football. I did have a wry smile when the windbag being interviewed explained the secret of this chap’s success. It was claimed that it was nothing to do with his football prowess. It was claimed that just like Boris Johnson, Elon Musk and Donald Trump (and several others who were also named), the bloke was predominantly an entertainer.

And that in a nutshell is precisely what is wrong with the world right now. (I know – I keep saying this).

 

We got to the woods. We walked a different route to our usual one. Back in the day we kept to the same old walk so much that Fudge flatly refused to walk any other routes and had to be dragged on a lead if I wanted a change.

We had a good walk. We avoided much of the mud. We discovered a new footpath; there can’t be many in those woods that we don’t know about. We walked for five miles and for much of that we didn’t see anyone else at all.

We had a minor incident when we got back to the car though. I opened the boot and said: “Boot Dogs!”

This is the signal for those dogs that are big enough to jump into the boot (Bailey isn’t). Two jump in, one gets lifted in. I then do the whistle and the dogs all get a treat and a fuss (which reenforces the whistle training)…

Or that is the plan.

Some passer-by felt that the command “Boot Dogs!” was a direct and personal insult to her dog, and once we’d finally sorted out that no insult or offence was intended, she thought her dog might like to get involved (and get into the car boot) for a treat.

Oh dear…

 

We came home for a belly wash and a cuppa, and then the dogs went mad. The Evri delivery driver was putting a parcel into the box outside the house. I went outside and asked why he didn’t knock on the door; he pretended not to speak English. I took the parcel off of him, and the parcel that he’d dumped on the garden recycling bin when he suddenly could speak English and clearly told me that parcel was for someone else. When I commented that he could speak English he again pretended not to be able to do so.

Some people really don’t help themselves.

 

I got the pressure washer out and had a first blast at the patio. The trouble with pressure washing is that all that the pressure washer does is lift the dirt off of that which is being washed. You need to get busy with the broom to sweep the mucky water away and the drain soon clogs. But I got an hour or so’s scrubbing in. I just did the worst of it, and will get into the nooks and crannies in a few weeks when all the hibernating bugs are out.

 

By then I was rather worn out so I settled in front of the telly with the dogs. I watched the last of “Boots” which was rather good, and then the film “Prometheus” which wasn’t. Sadly like all the films in the “Alien” franchise it rather assumes that you have to be rather stupid to be allowed to get onto a spaceship.

 

As I waited for “er indoors ^TM” to come home I played with ChatGPT some more. “er indoors ^TM” eventually came home from a day at the office and boiled up pie and chips which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy”. Sadly the show started rather well, but after a couple of months they’ve just broadcast what must be the weakest episode of Star Trek ever. And that’s up against “Spock’s Brain” and the first three seasons of “Enterprise”. Sadly Star Trek is fast going the way of “Doctor Who” in that I want to like it, but it is taking some doing.

25 February 2026 (Wednesday) - The Crab and Winkle Way

I slept reasonably well, but woke up at half past six shivering. I had no duvet; where had it all gone? I used Morgan and Bailey as hot water bottles.

 

I made toast and had a look at the geocaching website. Last September I put out a series of caches in Parkwood (near Appledore). Last night a friend told me that the given hint for the sixth one didn’t match the actual location. It mentioned a multi-trunked tree and a gate. That was odd – I can distinctly remember those geocaches. There’s a multi-trunked tree and a gate at the fifth one; the sixth is at the base of a big tree. I had a look at the website. I’d written down the wrong hint. You’d have thought that one of the previous twenty-odd finders would have said something? But I was glad that the issue was easily sorted. For all that those woods are a lovely place to walk, there’s something about them that sets Bailey off. She’s gone missing every time I’ve let her off of the lead down there, and now I take no chances when we go there, and she sulks as the other dogs are allowed to run and she isn’t.

There wasn’t much else happening on-line. Fans of Reform UK and Restore Britain were posting lies about the Labour party and calling them names. Fans of the Labour party were posting lies about Reform UK and Restore Britain and calling them names.

 

I prepped “Hannah” for the day, and with a couple of minutes to spare I logged into “Threads”. It doesn’t look very different to Facebook. I logged in to it using Instagram (as it is part of the same company)… Threads, Instagram, Facebook… three platforms from the same company all doing pretty much the same thing. What’s that all about?

I Munzed, and Wordled from “names” to “shred” via “speed” and “shied”, and then we got ready for the off.

 

With a good day forecast “er indoors ^TM” had booked the day off work. Having had a good experience in Whitstable a little while ago we thought we might try the place again. Ironically a day or so after we came home from Whitstable last time a series of puzzle geocaches had gone live there. I solved them, and we waited for another good winter’s day to go on a (hopefully) non-muddy walk.

We drove to the designated parking spot and had a rather good walk. The route took us along some of the quieter roads and along a very straight part of the Crab and Winkle Way. Treacle could be trusted (mostly) but the smaller pups stayed on the leads; even if Morgan on a lead is akin to taking a train for a walk.

As we walked we took a little diversion into the cemetery where we got information from half a dozen different war graves which would give us the location of a geocache… We got the information, did the sums and ended up in the hedge of someone’s back garden. The clue said “Top of 3 ft metal post” and there was a three foot tall metal post there… but no cache. I wasn’t happy rummaging in someone’s hedge so we revisited our calculations. A different interpretation of the questions gave us a location along a public footpath which seemed a far more likely place… it was only a shame that we couldn’t find a three foot tall metal post. Ho hum…  We carried on with our walk.

As we went “er indoors ^TM” found her fourteen thousandth geocache.

Once we’d covered a shade under three miles and a shade over two hours we were back at the car. We drove off on a little diversion to get one geocache which would complete the current series of geo-treasures for both of us and then we headed homewards.

Via Badlesmere.

 

We stopped off in the Red Lion for a spot of lunch. The Red Lion is an old favourite of ours. We’ve been calling in there every couple of months or so for years. The beer selection is good, and the food is excellent. The place can be very busy, but today there were several empty tables… Mind you it was two o’clock and mid-week. We had a pint and a plate of dinner each. It was rather good.

 

I took a few photos as we walked (and scoffed). We drove home past Kings Wood. I toyed with the idea of walking round there before going home… but decided against it.

We got home – it was something of a novelty not having to bath the dogs. I read my Kindle for a bit, and then we scoffed pudding. Having had a decent meal in the pub earlier we had black forest gateau for tea. As we scoffed we watched the last episodes of “Small Prophets”. It was a rather good show… it ended with the caption “to be continued”.

I wonder if it will be.

24 February 2026 (Tuesday) - ChatGPT

I slept reasonably well up until four o’clock then had something of a dilemma. Did I lay in bed for a few more hours desperately needing the loo. Or should I get up and surrender all the bed space to the dogs.

I got up, did what I had to do, and managed to get back onto the bed

I dozed on and off until half past seven.

 

I got up, made toast and had a look at the Internet as I do. This morning I was inundated with adverts for pressure filters for fish ponds. Having looked at one yesterday had clearly given the algorithms something to play with.

With nothing much else happening on-line I looked at the monthly accounts. I really could do with having far more money; is that greedy of me?

 

I took the dogs out. As we drove the pundits on the radio were continuing the article I was listening to last week about the hacker who’d tried to blackmail thousands of people. There was an interview with the chap this morning. He denied all responsibility and said that someone else did it; someone he knew but he wouldn’t say who it was. The chap clearly had no remorse for what he had done… and I suspect it won’t be that long before he’s out of prison.

 

We got to the wood where we walked a different route to our usual one. A marginally less muddy one. Though only marginally. We still got grubby. As we walked we saw the bluebells are starting to come up. And we met a few of the normal people with dogs on those ridiculously long leads. Some people must love untying knots.

As we drove out of the car park so the car in front of us had their dog’s lead hanging out of the door. Had it caught in anything it would have snapped the poor dog’s neck. I followed that car flashing my lights and eventually got them to stop. I had to repeat that the dog’s lead was hanging out four times before the woman actually looked out of the driver’s window to see what the issue was… and then she screamed about what might have happened.

 

We came home to see loads of people milling round the church up the road; all in black. And as I tried to drive down the road I had to slam on the brakes as some idiot old woman (also all in black and carrying a wreath) blundered into the middle of the road and just stood there. Eventually another funeral-goer came and tried to lead her away, but she didn’t want to go, and was having nothing to do with being told that she couldn’t stand in the middle of the road.

 

I gave the dogs a bath. Fortunately there was no fox poo to wash off today; only dried mud. I made us both a cuppa, Munzed, and Wordled from “being” through “breed”, “blare” and “bores” to “buyer”. Then I had a pootle in the garden.

I had a go with the battery powered pressure washer. Sadly that thing is on the crap side and I soon gave up with it. I couldn’t be arsed to get the proper one out, so instead I got the bionic burner out and had a go at the weeds coming through the patio.

 

I then had a look at the morning’s post and was disappointed. What I had hoped was written permission for my next geo-project was actually a bill for the thick end of two hundred quid for our recent boiler overhaul. I played around with ChatGPT, looked at a possible walk for tomorrow, and made myself a sandwich.

I then did my usual trick of watching episodes of “Four In A Bed”. Today’s were rather good; the contestants didn’t take long to hate each other.

One of the places competing was a pub in Edenbridge where last year we had a geo-meet. It was run by a rather vindictive chap who penalised a competitor by fifteen quid for trivia, and then had the right hump when that same one penalised him a measly three quid for quite serious failings, and he wasn’t at all happy that another marked him down for letting out a room with a broken bed. He *really* didn’t thank that a broken bed was a valid reason for underpaying.

Despite not having had the letter of permission that I’d been hoping for, I then spent a little while preparing the geocaching event page for the event (in the hope that permission would be forthcoming).

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a very good chili which we scoffed whilst watching the last two episodes of “The Traitors: Ireland”.  The show does make me laugh sometimes… one girl was accused of being a traitor because she hadn’t been voted out. I said she hadn’t been voted out because of the most entertaining way in which she brandished her chest.

Who was right… let’s just say she wasn’t a traitor but might as well have turned up in the nip for all that her so-called clothing kept secret…

23 February 2026 (Monday) - Ultra Violet

I had some of that apricot jam on my toast this morning. The quicker I get it scoffed, the quicker it will be gone. I peered into the Internet and rolled my eyes. People who still live only a hundred yards from where they were born were complaining about how bad Ashford has become. I did laugh when some woman ranted about how Internet shopping had killed the town and how she wouldn’t do on-line shopping… only Amazon But Ashford isn’t “bad”; it’s just different to how it used to be. The town centre isn’t what it once was, but there’s more to a town than going shopping. Isn’t there? There’s often events in the town’s parks. Viccie park has been done up beyond all recognition. There’s the carnival of lights in November that started recently. There’s all sorts of activities and clubs. People on the local Facebook groups are taken in by all the complaining about the council which is coming from people who don’t seem to understand what the local council actually does.

The town is what you make it. I’m reminded of a chap with whom I used to work who moved between pretty much all of the major towns in Kent and was never happy anywhere.

I Munzed, and Wordled from “major” through “beach” and “acids” to “attic”, and my lap-top told me that the AVG antivirus has upgraded its assessment of the home network and now says it is “trusted”. It’s taken long enough to come to that conclusion.

 

The plan had been for Morgan to wait patiently whilst Treacle and Bailey had their appointments with Doggy Dentals, but we’d had a message that the nice Doggy Dentist lady was ill. She thinks she’s got COVID… That’s not good. I said we can reschedule (which we can).

So instead of going to the woods via the dentist, we went straight to the woods where we walked just over four miles. We got a bit muddy… and very much fox poo-ey. What is the attraction of fox poo for dogs?

We came home for a serious scrub in the bath. With soap (!)

 

I made us both a cuppa, then had a little pootle in the garden. I managed to get the ultra-violet bulbs out the two pond filters without breaking either, and without any swearing which I saw as a major victory.

I then went to Dobbies to get replacement bulbs as they need replacing every year. I had a minor brainstorm and drove to Bybrook Barn instead…

Well, as I was there I went in to the aquatic section.

Oh dear.

The first chap I saw made a point of ignoring me. The second one wasn’t quite as disinterested, but when I asked if he’d got a replacement ultra-violet light bulb for the one in my hand he vaguely waved his hand and said they were “over there” and stared at me when I didn’t go rushing off “over there”. I told him that they were probably cheaper at Dobbies, walked out and went round to Maidenhead Aquatics at Dobbies where the staff were far more helpful. Sadly they only had one bulb, but they are getting a delivery later in the week… and they made a point of giving me a card with their phone number so I can ring them before I go and avoid a wasted journey.

 

I came home, and settled in front of the telly and watched episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which everyone got on rather well and no one fell out, which made for rather dull viewing.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up burgers for tea, and with them scoffed she went off to bowling. I sat with the dogs and as they snored I watched a couple more episodes of “Boots” as the undercrackers washed. It’s Monday evening; it’s undercrackers washing time. I am such a creature of habit…

22 February 2026 (Sunday) - Rather Tired

Despite a full-on day yesterday I didn’t sleep at all well. It was gone midnight before I staggered off to my pit, but I was wide awake listening to the assorted snoring and dreaming by three o’clock.

I eventually gave up trying to sleep at half past seven and made toast. This time not with the apricot jam; I’ve rather gone off of that stuff.

I had my usual look at the internet. One hundred and eight people had sent birthday wishes, and quite a few others had commented on those wishes. That’s one of the reasons that I like Facebook – it is so easy to keep in touch with people that I don’t actually see from one year to the next.

And I saw that “The Great British Pub Crawl” had been in Hastings over the last couple of days… I’m not quite sure what “The Great British Pub Crawl” is all about. Regularly posting to Facebook, this chap seems to be on a mission to visit every pub in the UK. But exactly how do you finance this? The chap reported on twenty-five Hastings pubs over the last couple of days. If he only had a half-pint in every pub, that’s over seventy quid, and that’s not including his overnight accommodation. Is he being sponsored or paid to do this? 

 

I Munzed, then Wordled from “hurts” through “lumpy”, “fudge” and “guano” to “guava”. I got “guava” because it was the only thing that fitted. Apparently it’s a sort of fruit. One lives and learns.

I then had a look at all the trackables left over from yesterday’s geo-meet. Trackables are little things that get moved on from geocache to geocache. I’ve got quite a few of my own that I’ve set off. In theory you can follow their movements around the world. In practice they tend to go missing. Half of mine have gone missing. People pick them up and forget to log them. People pick them up and have no idea how to log them… I’ve logged all that were left at the meet yesterday and told the system that I’ve got them. There were quite a few, but right now there is only one left logged into the meet. Hopefully whoever has got that will do the secret geo-ritual soon.

I challenged the bots at chess dot com and managed to get one stalemate and one win against a level one thousand bot. I got beaten several times, but this bot doesn’t gloat when it wins, which is polite of it.

 

I had planned on a little dog walk this morning, but the weather was against it. And the dogs were worn out from yesterday. Even on days when we have a decent walk, the dogs still sleep for probably eighteen hours a day. Yesterday they were awake for about three times as long as they usually are during the day, and so were catching up on sleep. They got up late, grudgingly had brekkie, and then slept. Usually they ask to go for a walk, but not this morning. “er indoors ^TM” went shopping, and once I’d gathered the dog dung, filled the bird feeder and run round with the hoover I sat with the dogs and we all had a little sleep.

 

“My Boy ^TM” and ”Auntie Chel ^TM” came round for the afternoon and we had a rather good time on the Infinity Table. “Sorry” and “Trouble” and “Tilez” and “Ticket To Ride”… we had a very good few hours. And when they set off home we played a couple more games of  Ticket To Ride” – the Nordic countries and the Asia versions.

 

For all that I’ve had a very lazy day today, I’m absolutely worn out… Once the washing machine has done its thing and I’ve hung the washing out, I’m thinking about an early night.

21 February 2026 (Saturday) - A Birthday

I had an odd night. I woke in the small hours following a very vivid dream in which “er indoors ^TM” was running a boating lake inside a stolen ridge tent, and once I finally got back to sleep I had another nightmare in which one of my ex-cubs had taken over the world. He was an odd chap who could speak (if he had to) but chose to communicate by making strange grimaces and expected people to know what he wanted according to the contortions of his face. In my nightmare, speech and the written word had become illegal and gurning was the only permissible form of communication.

Have you ever tried pulling strange expressions at a recalcitrant dog?

 

I made toast with some of that apricot jam. It’s a few years since we had any; I can remember it being far better than this stuff. I had a little look at the Internet. I had a few messages from “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM”; she seems to be quite keen on emigrating to Mars at the moment. I suspect that given a few years that might be an option for her. I also suspect that what sounds rather glamourous in theory would actually be rather dull in practice.

And I had several birthday messages too.

Steve was on the radio doing the Guess the Lyrics competition. “She opened up her eyes and thought Oh What A Morning” No? – I had no idea either. It was “"All That She Wants" by the Swedish pop group Ace of Base.

 

We drove round to Repton and dog club where we had a rather good (if muddy) time. And from there we drove out to Biddenden where we met Karl and Tracey. We had a rather good walk round the local area. Very muddy, but good. We found a few geocaches (as we do). And then we went on to the McCann’s brewery for the geo-meet…

Oh dear…

We got to the place to find every single table booked for the rugby match. I explained that we’d arranged to have our meet there. We had. We arranged that a couple of months ago. They claimed to have no record of our booking. I showed them the email on my phone. That didn’t go down well and the woman behind the bar grudgingly said we could stand at the bar or sit outside on the patio, So we sat outside. The people on the next table had pizza. We tried to order food and were told we couldn’t as we hadn’t booked. Even though the people on the next table hadn’t booked and they got food. When I whinged the woman behind the bar said that I could talk to the manager about it if and when she came in. She didn’t actually say “f… off fatso” but it she made it clear that we weren’t welcome or wanted. I pulled out my phone and called the Old Dairy brewery and explained what had happened. They said we were very welcome.

It didn’t take that long to message everyone that the geo-meet had been relocated.

 

Twenty minutes later we were in the Old Dairy Brewery, and it wasn’t long before everyone who had said that they were coming to the geo-meet joined us. I was very relieved to see that everyone had got the message.

We had a rather good afternoon. Pizza, stout, meeting friends… it all became rather vague. Though I did take a few photos.

 

I woke up on the sofa a couple of hours later. “er indoors ^TM” got kebabs and we watched “Mr Bean’s Holiday” which we’d recorded some time ago. And I had a revelation. For all that Mr Bean is funny, he’s a horrible person, isn’t he?

 

As birthdays go, today was rather good.

20 February 2026 (Friday) - Doughnuts (edible and otherwise)

Last night I did that thing I do so often; I woke before two o’clock feeling full of energy and raring to go, and then dozed on and off for the rest of the night. I got up at five o’clock and watched an episode of “Boots” as I scoffed toast. Today I scoffed it with apricot jam. “er indoors ^TM” went shopping last night and came home with the stuff. I can remember it being far better than it was this morning.

With telly watched I had a little look at the Internet as I do. It was still there. For some reason I my Facebook feed this morning was flooded with adverts for the Church of England who were taking the line that because atheists couldn’t disprove the existence of their god, then atheists were clearly wrong. I’m not quite sure how that works? Personally I’d take the evidence of Eric the God-eating penguin which disproves the existence of God (engage logic mode…)

"God can't exist because of Eric The God-Eating Magic Penguin. Since Eric is God-Eating by definition, he has no choice but to eat God. So, if God exists, He automatically ceases to exist as a result of being eaten by Eric... Therefore *unless* you can prove that Eric doesn't exist, God doesn't exist. However *if* you can prove that Eric doesn't exist, then that same proof will also be applicable to God. There are only two possibilities - either you can prove that Eric doesn't exist or you can't - in both cases it logically follows that God doesn't exist".

From that it is a very short step to proving that black is white and getting yourself run over on the next zebra crossing that you see.

 

And then there was a commotion outside. Usually when they come on a Friday morning the bin men make no attempt to keep quiet. They crash about and shout across the street to each other seemingly of the opinion that if they are up and out of bed, then so should everyone else be up and about. But they excelled themselves today by spending about five minutes shouting "f...ing doughnut" up and down the street at twenty to seven this morning. I couldn't determine whether the "f...ing doughnut" was a fellow bin man, or some passer-by who had offended them.

 

I set off to work listening to the pundits on the radio. Apparently the brewing company Brewdog is going belly up. There were all sorts of people being interviewed on the radio about this. Having lost thousands of pounds they were all saying how the company seemed to be a sound investment at the time. I must admit I don't know the first thing about the finances of the company but as a beer drinker I never liked their stuff. To my mind they sold half-pint quantities of mediocre beer at pint prices.

And there was a lot of talk about ex-Prince Andrew who was arrested yesterday. After seemingly endless scandal and rumours about who and what he might have done the dirty deed to, at, or on, it seems he's finally been had up by the Old Bill. But the arrest was made on the suspicion that he passed on confidential financial information when he was acting as a government trade envoy. So far there's been no mention of whatever it was that allegedly prompted his mother to pay Virginia Giuffre  to get her to keep quiet about her allegations that she was forced to have several sexual encounters with him when she was aged seventeen. Will an arrest follow about that?  

His case sums up all that is wrong with the British judicial system though, doesn't it? He might be a villain, he might not. But he's already been tried and found guilty by the opinion of the newspapers, and he will never get a fair trial now, will he?

 

I drove up to Sainsburys where there were several caravans parked in the car park. What was that all about? I got lunch, and some cakes for work in honour of tomorrow including some doughnuts (not f…ing ones though).

 

I then went into work where I started a new book on my Kindle app. I started reading the Harry Potter books between Christmas and the New Year and I finished the last one yesterday. I've now started Arthur C Clarke's "Rama" series.

Arthur C Clarke is (yet) another one who was widely reported to be a sex criminal... even though there was absolutely no actual evidence against him other than the rantings of newspapers

 

As I worked I had a phone call from 07756 004729 who claimed that they were calling from Visa debit cards about a suspicious transaction of nine hundred pounds on my account. I phoned the bank who knew nothing about it... I suppose that these scammers only need to trick one person to be in profit...

And I had an email from Forestry England... who seem to be only too happy for me to stage a Midsummer's Eve event in Kings Wood. That's a result.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up sausages and chips which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy” which wasn’t bad. Sadly compared with what’s gone before it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad.

 

I’m thinking about an early night… bet I don’t have one.

19 February 2026 (Thursday) - Rostered Day Off

I was sleeping like a log when I woke to the sound of Morgan crying. He was laying next to me, twitching and shaking, whimpering and sobbing. He was clearly having a very vivid nightmare. Dogs *really* do have dreams. I managed to settle him, and I dozed on and off for the rest of the night, finally getting up just after seven o’clock

 

I had a look at the internet. The parody site Newsthump had had its TikTok account permanently deleted as the AI running the site didn’t understand parody. Apparently other satirical sites such as the Daily Mash and Waterford Whispers have the same problem.

AI still has a lot to learn.

And there was a minor squabble on the Kent Weather Forecasts Facebook page. The chap who runs the page had the hump because people were pointing out that his forecasts were at odds with other forecasts, The chap was ranting about how all the weather forecasters have the same data, but the data is open to interpretations.

Well…

No it’s not. If you’ve got accurate scientific data then that’s the end of it. If there’s multiple possible meanings for that data then your means of interpreting that data is fundamentally wrong. Isn’t it?

 

Despite the iffy weather forecast from Kent Weather Forecasts and the BBC (and the not-too-bad one from the Met Office) I took the dogs out. As we drove Robert Jenrick was being interviewed by the pundits on the radio. Like most politicians this chap seems to have an eye out for the main chance and has variously been in charge of housing and health when in government, and was shadow chancellor of the exchequer until he threw it all in and jumped on the Reform UK bandwagon. Listening to him was worrying; he summed up the very reason why I’m worried about Reform UK. He didn’t say that the country needs Reform UK; he said that the country needs Nigel Farage. And there’s Reform UK in a nutshell. It is a cult.

 

We got to the woods where the rain had given way to a foggy drizzle. Being earlier than usual we had a good normal-people-free walk. We mostly stuck to the wider paths and avoided the worst of the mud, it was only on the last half-mile that we saw anyone else.

 

We came home for a bath. I put a load of washing in to scrub, and with “er indoors ^TM” having an office day I made myself a cuppa then had a look in the fridge. I was under orders to chuck out the cheesecake that had been left in the fridge since last week and forgotten about. It didn’t smell *that* bad so I scoffed it.

 

I wrote up some CPD, then did the ironing whilst watching the last episodes of “Harlots” which was a rather good series. I emptied the washing machine (and set the dishwasher going) and ironed the shirts whilst they were wet and then started something new on Netflix. “Boots” tells the tale of a young gay lad who enlisted into the American Marines. It was billed as a comedy, but wasn’t actually that funny. Rather engaging… but not actually funny. I emptied the dishwasher. I ran round with the Hoover. I did the bins. I worried about Treacle who wanted to go into the garden where she ate grass for fifteen minutes.

 

I checked my emails just in case any of the trainees had sent me more portfolio work to assess. It’s only fair on them to give them feedback whilst what they’ve written is fresh in their minds. And there was something for me to look at – a dissertation on the ESR. The erythrocyte sedimentation rate is an absolutely wonderful blood test. I’ve gone into detail about it somewhere else.

 

“er indoors ^TM” came home and sorted us a rather good chili which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episodes of “The Traitors: Ireland” in which the chap I really didn’t like finally got the heave-ho.

I’m still in two minds as to whether I should apply for the next series of the UK version of the show…

18 February 2026 (Wednesday) - Before Another Late Shift

I slept reasonably well, but woke in a cold sweat at five o’clock after a nightmare in which I’d been sent to sort out an alien invasion in which the local buses had been taken over by buck-toothed androids which had doubled the bus fares overnight.

My pleas that I’d not been on a bus for years were totally ignored…

 

I got up, made toast and had a look at the Internet. It was still there. The local newspaper was pretending to act surprised on the local Facebook pages; following the closure of the local shopping centre the nearby café is looking set to go out of business. Whilst I feel for them, this can’t be a surprise, can it?

I saw our county councillor is no longer part of Reform UK; he’s packed up with them and joined the newly formed Restore Britain party. He posted on his Facebook page this morning “Every speech I gave had to be vetted and re scripted, every vote I gave was whipped and forced on me. To be given to respect to now vote and speak on behalf of my constituents means so much to me”. Perhaps we might now find out exactly why he's been sitting as a back bencher after leaving his deputy cabinet role (environment portfolio) at Kent County Council three months ago.

I suppose it is a step in the right direction; if only because Restore Britain is a political party whereas Reform UK is actually a company pretending to be a political party. There are those who see Restore Britain as a bad thing because of what they stand for. There are those who see Restore Britain as a bad thing because it divides the far-right vote. I don’t know what to think. can’t say I like either of the parties the bloke’s associated with, but from what I’ve seen of the chap he actually does far more for the local community than many other local councillors do. And he’s streets ahead of the Labour MP for whom I actually voted.

 

I sent out birthday wishes to the two friends who were having a birthday today, Munzed, and amazed myself by Wordling from “right” to “mogul” in only three goes. I suppose there’s only so many five letter words with “G” in the middle.

 

 I spent an hour assessing more trainee’s work. I wrote up some CPD, and took Treacle to the vets for her annual once-over. Her eight is down from last year (by nearly a kilogram) and her teeth are good (that’s a result for Doggy Dentals). She’s still covered in fatty lumps though. The vet suggested biopsy, but when I pointed out that in order to be sure they weren’t malignant we’d have to biopsy every one the vet agreed that wasn’t practical. Treacle’s still got a heart murmur, but it is no worse than last year. The vet pulled all her legs about and said there was no flexibility or mobility issues.

All things considered the vet said that Treacle was in very good shape for a (nearly) ten year old dog and that we should continue the long walks round the woods all the time she’s obviously not struggling with them.

 

The plan was then to go for a long walk round the woods… but as it says in the Bible (Proverbs 16 v 9) God laughs when we make plans. The boss phoned and said that due to sickness we were short at work and asked if I could cover the late shift.

I could.

It is rather pathetic really, but it is good to feel needed so once I’d made up both a cuppa I got ready for the off. As I got ready to go to work so Bailey wanted to come with me again. Having disappointed her earlier when I took Treacle to the vets I disappointed her again.

 

I drove round to the co-op where I immediately slammed on the brakes as some idiot woman clearly wasn't watching the cars around her and nearly rammed my car. And then she tried to do it again. Having had to twice stop suddenly because of her seemingly being oblivious to the world around her, I eventually parked despite her best efforts. As I walked to the co-op so she got out of her car. I commented to her that she needed to keep an eye out as she'd nearly crashed into me twice. She smiled and said I was talking to the wrong person because she doesn't drive. What was that all about?

I got a sandwich and went to work up the A20 where I stopped off to do the secret ritual with a rather good geocache that “er indoors ^TM” had hidden there last year. And with that done (together with yesterday's little mission) I've now completed the "Toy Dinosaurs" geo-Treasures.

I carried on to work... and again had to slam on the brakes as I drove up the motorway because the lorry in front hadn't noticed the broken-down car in the slow lane, and had left emergency braking far too late. As I pushed on the brake for all I was worth, the lorry in the rear view mirror looked awfully close as well...

When my previous car packed up on the motorway I'd had the sense to freewheel onto the hard shoulder rather than abandoning it in the slow lane, but what do I know?

Work was much the same as ever. I can't pretend I actually wanted to go in this afternoon, but the boss had asked me to, and according to the thirty-third Rule of Acquisition, it never hurts to suck up to the boss.

 

I was glad to see the night shift turn up. As I drove home the pundits on the radio were repeating the same program I'd listened to yesterday morning about the hacker who'd tried to blackmail thousands of people. Much as I like Radio Four, there's an awful lot of repeats on there. I suppose they've done their homework and I suppose they try to schedule repeats so that different people hear them at different times... It's just a shame that I seem not to hear them all. I turned the radio off and sang along to the strange tunes in my MP3 collection

 

I’m feeling rather worn out – I’ve worked three of the last four days. So much for being semi-retired…