11 February 2026 (Wednesday) - Before the Late Shift

I slept well. I made toast, took another antibiotic and had a look at the Internet. It was still there. Someone had posted to one of the local Facebook groups saying that people asking for employment were more likely to get it if they used their own names when asking rather than some silly Facebook-generated nickname. It speaks volumes about the potential applicants that this needs to be pointed out.

I saw that there is to be a protest this weekend at the RNLI HQ protesting about lifeboats being used to save the lives of asylum seekers. There was one of those in Hastings a few years ago when some activists arranged to prevent the lifeboat being launched… and then a few months later the same sheep who’d blocked the lifeboat turned up to fundraisers to help those same asylum seekers… apparently rent-a-mob went along to wherever they saw the masses were being directed that week without a thought for what they were actually supporting.

And there were rumours about the derelict Odeon in Ashford to be refurbished, and endless suggestion about how they might do it and what they might do with it… with no-one having any idea who “they” might be.

These people are allowed to vote and do jury service, you know.

 

I sent out birthday wishes to two people with whom I used to work ten years ago. One was something of a religious nut. The other was something of a worry. One day he announced that he’d got a job in Southampton and said that he was looking at moving companies as he didn’t drive. I offered to drive a van…

We had a good day moving him, but I can remember loading up the van. It was just him and some bloke from work (me). I assumed all his mates would be at the other end to help with the unloading. We got to Southampton where there wasn’t anyone. Just me and him. I can also remember being very reluctant to leave him; he seemed happy enough but there was something rather sad about leaving him on his own. But twelve years later he’s still there, and seemingly happy enough.

 

I Munzed, Wordled from “drive” to “vegan”, then looked at the geo-map. Geocaching HQ had announced the requirements for the next load of Treasures which will go live next week. I had a look at the map and planned a couple of little geo-expeditions. I had a go at some puzzles on chess dot com, then amazed myself by beating a bot before writing up some CPD.

I didn’t take the hounds out this morning. It was wet and I didn’t have time to get to Kings Wood and back, and then bath the dogs before work. Over the summer we’d go to Orlestone, but that would have been an epic swamp today.

I thought about chasing a First to Find… a new geocache went live four days ago and no one had been to find it. The problem was that this one was in Whitstable, and working in Pembury today would have meant driving twenty miles in exactly the wrong direction before I even considered heading to work.

 

The dogs got rather excited as I got ready for work. They thought they were coming out with me. Sadly for all of us, they weren't. 

I drove round to the petrol station to refuel. As I came out I mumbled and muttered. The right turn to the motorway was blocked up and I had to go the long way round. It was as well that I did; three quarters of the way round I remembered I didn't need to go up the motorway today. Had there been no obstruction I would have been well on my way to Maidstone before I'd remembered. 

 

I'd also forgotten to get lunch so I popped into the little shop in Sissinghurst. The place had three or four young mothers (with their children screaming in the cars outside) doing their shopping. All in their pyjamas complete with fluffy slippers. Why do people go shopping in their pyjamas? 

 

I stopped off in Goudhurst as a few years ago I'd hidden a geocache there. I'd had reports that it had gone missing; it had. It didn't take *that* long for me to replace it. To be honest the people whinging that it had gone missing could have replaced it in less time than it took for them to whinge about it, but there it is.

And fuelled with geo-enthusiasm I stopped off in Pembury to log a find on a geocache that had been almost (but not quite) buried by the post box.

 

I went in to the late shift. I rather dread late shifts in a hospital which is a dedicated trauma centre. You'd think after all these years I would be a bit more used to the excitement, wouldn't you? Work could have been worse, but I got quite a bit of stick about what if the squirrel that bit me on Monday had been radioactive; I would now be the superhero "Squirrel Man", but what my special powers might be would seem to be anyone's guess... and there were a lot of guesses being made…

10 February 2026 (Tuesday) - A.I. Artwork

I slept well, but the bite on my finger was sore this morning, as was my arm where I’d had the injection. I’ve heard people whinge about injection sites being sore; I’ve not had one play up like this one before.

The nice nurse said to give the bandage on my finger a day, so I pulled it off this morning. Bandages are good for attention-seeking, but cuts (and presumably bites) heal better when left open.

 

I took another antibiotic, made toast and had a look at the Internet. Not a lot was going on. I rolled my eyes at some of the work-related Facebook pages on which so-called medical professionals bent over backwards to show their ignorance. I know the average person wouldn’t be able to distinguish between a Howell-Jolly body and basophilic stippling… but a reasonable comparison would be that a professional driver would know the difference between a bus and a train.

I sent out birthday wishes (via Facebook and WhatsApp), and spent a few minutes checking dates. I’m sure that yesterday was the birthday of someone who was once important in my life. It *might* have been an old drinking mate from my days at Brighton Technical College… I’ve not seen Dave Ferrief for years. I’ve tried to get in touch with him; the last I heard he was somewhere in Surrey.

 

The weather forecast was for light rain showers so I took the dogs out anyway. As we drove to the woods the pundits on the radio were talking about how the Prime Minister seems to have ridden out the scandal surrounding him… the scandal being that he was unaware of someone else being a wrong ‘un.

We got to the woods at about the time we were driving home yesterday, and there were a lot more cars in the car park today. There’s a lot to be said for getting there early. Had we been earlier we would have missed today’s idiot. As we walked one of the narrower paths so some woman came up the other way with two Boxer dogs. Her dogs were fine and didn’t seem to have any issues, but she went hysterical and shrieked that we had to go back the way we’d come because we couldn’t go anywhere near her. I find it is usually best not to argue with idiots so we back-tracked.

I mentioned this episode to other dog walkers we know; apparently despite being new to the Kings Wood dog walking scene, this idiot woman has made herself known. One or two were talking of reporting her, but I’m not sure to whom it is that you report idiots.

Our walk was muddy; despite chasing squirrels the dogs didn’t catch any today which was probably for the best… both for the squirrels and me.

 

After nearly five miles and nearly two hours we were back at the car. We came home for a bath. I made up both a cuppa, filled up the bird feeder and went round the garden hunting for dog dung.

I spent a little while writing up CPD, then played about making caricatures with ChatGPT.

 

I spent a while watching episodes of “Four In A Bed”. The last place to host in today’s episodes won today for the simple reason that the first place didn’t actually do breakfast, and the second and third places hated each other. 

And then I had a message. A chap with whom I went to school (from 1975 to 1981) will be back in the country in a week or so’s time. Did I fancy a little meet-up. I would. It would be good to organise a reunion… However there’s hardly anyone from the good old days at the Hastings Academy for Budding Geniuses who still lives in Hastings. I’ve posted to the school’s old boys Facebook group… You never know.

 

“er indoors ^TM” went off to her works quiz night. I sat in front of the telly with the dogs and binge-watched the new BBC production of “Lord of the Flies”. One of many books that the English teachers at school killed stone dead, it’s a rather good story. However what the BBC strung out over four hour-long episodes could have been better done in two.

I’ve got to go to work tomorrow…

9 February 202 6 (Monday) - Squirrel Bite

I stood on the scales this morning as I’d planned. My weight has held constant for the last two weeks. Oh well, as long as it’s not creeping up again, I suppose.

I made toast and had my usual look at the Internet as I do every morning. I hadn’t missed much overnight. Nothing appeared in my Facebook feed apart from some utter nonsense about improving sleep quality by going for three to four mile walks in the mornings (!)

I Munzed, then took the dogs for a walk.

 

We went to the woods. We were early this morning – at half past seven there wasn’t any other cars in the car park. It was rather misty; I hoped to see deer, but we didn’t. We had a quiet peaceful walk right up to the last half-mile when I could hear a screaming. Bailey had a squirrel in her mouth, and the other two were watching in much the same way that small children in a playground crowd round a scrap shouting “Fight! Fight”. The squirrel was screaming; I told Bailey to let it go which she did. I lifted the squirrel onto a branch where it would be safe; the bloody thing sunk its teeth into my finger. A classic example of the two hundred and eighty-fifth Rule of Acquisition. “No good deed ever goes unpunished”.

 

The blood poured out and over a minute passed before the squirrel finally let go. But rather than running up the tree it ran down to the ground where Bailey was waiting. Bailey caught it again and shook it like an old sock. This time Bailey gave it some serious stick and broke its back. Seeing the poor squirrel had had it I stomped on its head to put it out of its misery. And with the thing killed, Bailey lost all interest in it. Treacle then carried the carcass looking very proud with herself.

I then stood and watched the blood gushing from my finger with a sense of WTF do I do now? It had.(mostly) stopped bleeding by the time I got to the car. We came home where “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” and Pogo had arrived for a little visit. I washed my hand and the dogs, and the expert opinion was that I should have my hand looked at. So I ran “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” home, and as we drove so the most recent fruit of my loins called up the hospital waiting times app. As luck would have it, the shortest waiting time was at the Folkestone walk-in centre so once I’d dropped her and Pogo off I went there.

 

“Squirrel bite” raised a couple of eyebrows; the closest they’d had for some time was a tourist who’d had a nip off of a seagull. But I was in and out in a couple of hours. The main cause of delay was (so I was told) that squirrel bite isn’t something they see very often, and although the consensus was that I needed a tetanus jab, expert opinion was divided as to which antibiotics to prescribe. I spent a quiet couple of hours reading “Harry Potter” on my Kindle whilst the experts deliberated.

I got the tetanus jab, three days of antibiotics, and a nice bandage.

 

I came home where the dogs were all settled. Bailey clearly had no idea of what I’d gone through this morning. I put some washing in to scrub, made some toast for lunch took my antibiotic and watched some episodes of “Four In A Bed” which featured some silly chap who made a big show of telling everyone that he took great pride in being a disagreeable old scrote. He then took offence when all the other contestants treated him like a disagreeable old scrote.

 

I put a load of undercrackers in to scrub whilst “er indoors ^TM” boiled up burgers. We scoffed them then she went off bowling. I settled underneath a pile of dogs and watched more “Harlots”.

My finger is a tad sore, but where I had the tetanus injection is particularly tender.

8 February 2026 (Sunday) - Eastwell to Challock (and back)

Morgan’s snoring into my ear woke me this morning. I felt surprisingly chipper bearing in mind the amount of beer and port I put down my neck last night.

I got up, made toast and wrote up yesterday’s diary,,, eventually. My lap-top had a funny five minutes and wouldn’t highlight or copy any text, and wanted to open endless amounts of new word documents for absolutely no reason that I could fathom. Eventually I resorted to my universal fix – I pulled its plug and started again. Generally if pulling the plug doesn’t work then whatever the problem is, it is beyond fixing.

 

I had my usual rummage round the Internet; there were quite a few photos from the works outing yesterday. There had been some eighties music event in Maidstone yesterday. I’d been invited to go, but… I wasn’t keen and we had other plans. Going out is all very well, but as time goes on I’m going off of the idea. There isn’t a music event on the planet at which the volume is less than deafening. The event was heaving with the normal people. And I suspect the beer was about four times the price of the beer I had last night.

I Munzed, and got Wordle on the third attempt… there are only so many places that you can put an “m”.

 

We got the dogs organised and took them out. During the week someone had posted to the Ashford Area Country Walks Facebook page giving directions of a six-mile walk from Eastwell church. We had an idea that it might be a good route for a series of geocaches… 

It wasn’t.

With probably a third of it across wide-open fields, and a quarter of it along roads and lanes it wasn’t ideal for a trail of film pots under rocks. But it was a good walk through the countryside even if the local landowners did seem to have a bit of a thing for “Private – Keep Out” signs.

The dogs got to run off their leads for some of the way, but I watched Bailey “like a pork” (to coin a phrase) and the moment she showed any sign of getting the red mist up, she went straight back on the lead and we avoided any little episodes of standing at the edge of an impenetrable thicket waiting for her to get bored with snuffling after whichever mouse, rabbit, squirrel or figment of her imagination had set her off this time.

I took a few photos as we walked. We came home via Westwell where there was a geocache (it had to be done).

 

The dogs were filthy; they had a bath, and then we had a cuppa with Mr Kipling’s Easter mini-Battenbergs. Have you tried them? Supposedly raspberry flavour; they tasted of hubba-bubba bubblegum to me. They aren’t unpleasant, but they wouldn’t be my first choice of a cake.

 

I read more “Harry Potter” on my Kindle app and as I did, I felt a tad tired. I closed my eyes for a few minutes… and woke an hour and a half later. What a waste of an afternoon. I shall be wide awake in the small hours.

 

I wrote up a little CPD, then “er indoors ^TM” boiled up a chicken dinner which we scoffed whilst watching another episode of “The Floor”.

I shall read some more “Harry Potter” in a bit…  

I shall have a weigh-in tomorrow morning. What with a long walk today I’ve eaten two thousand calories less than I need to break even today. I bet my weight has gone up…

 

7 February 2026 (Saturday) - Working, Games Night

I fell asleep on the sofa yesterday evening which is always a bad thing. When I went to my pit I lay awake for over an hour, and when I finally did nod off I didn’t sleep for long. I eventually awoke in a cold sweat following a nightmare in which a friend I’ve not seen for years was accused of having done some petty crime fifty years ago and it was up to me to persuade Doctor Who to take me back to the late seventies to get evidence to prove his innocence.

 

I got up, made toast and watched an episode of “Harlots” in which the rich and powerful got richer and powerful-er whilst continuing to piss on the paupers who got more pauper-ish. As Oliver Hardy once remarked, “twas ever thus”.

I sparked up my lap-top and had a look at the internet. Very little (i.e.nothing) had happened overnight, so I Munzed, and got ready for work.

I didn’t want to go to work this morning. I would rather have done Dog Club but I’ve got quite a lot of weekend shifts at the moment and swapping had proved too tricky. The only consolation was that I wasn’t missing Steve on the radio; the local radio station has had a little hiatus because of a power outage which poggered the transmitter (so I am reliably informed).

 

I drove to work listening to Radio Four. This morning the pundits on there were talking about ex-Prime Minister Gordon Brown who is seemingly tiddling his knickers in terror over the entire Peter Mandelson - Jeffrey Epstein scandal. About twenty years ago Gordon Brown appointed Peter Mandelson to some government post or other, and he now regrets it. And he is taking a lot of trouble to make it clear that he regrets it; even though at the time all the evidence was that Peter Mandelson was the best man for the job, and there was no hint of any impropriety at all.

It looks likely that the current Prime Minister is going to be out on his arse for much the same reason.

How on Earth can we run a country terrified that decisions made in good faith will be held against us twenty years later when something we didn't know comes to light? 

 

I got to work earlier than I needed to, and treated myself to an almond croissant from the works M&S. Have you ever been to the food hall at M&S? In years gone by it was *the* place to go for a special treat. These days they seem to be relying on their reputation rather than living up to it. Their meal deals are over a pound more than those in Sainsburys and are rather basic. I spent a tenner on one of their meals when “er indoors ^TM” was out gallivanting a while back; jam on toast would have been better. This morning I paid double what the local corner shop charges for an almond croissant, and what I got was far inferior to that which I could have got from that local corner shop.

 

I went into work and did my thing. I try not to dwell on what goes on at work... ten years ago when working "somewhere else" I got a formal written disciplinary warning for saying that night shifts made me tired. But I will repeat what our works' chief executive said in his daily update which I read this morning: the day before yesterday we had over four hundred patients turn up at the A&E department. That's about one patient every three and a half minutes, all day and night.

 

I came home and spent much of the afternoon dozing underneath a pile of  dogs.

 

Karl and Tracey came round for the evening and we had a rather good evening playing all sorts of games on the Infinity Table. We had a particularly good evening,,, even if the evening did get rather more vague as it wore on,,,

Must do it again…

6 February 2026 (Friday) - Light's Fixed

It was hossing down when I got up this morning. I made toast and had a look at a rather dull Internet. Nothing much was kicking off for once. There was a new series of geocaches near Edenbridge; I thought they might be puzzles which would give me something to do until the rain stopped. But they weren’t.

 

After half an hour I saw the rain was easing off. If I was to believe weather forecasts I’d never leave the house, so I took a chance and took the dogs out. As we drove Professor Michele Dougherty was on Desert Island Discs. She’s been the lead investigator on several of NASA’s planetary probes and she was rather interesting. Her choice of music was eclectic to say the least, ranging from classical music to operatic dirges, Christmas carols and Abba.

We got to the woods and had a good walk. Like yesterday we stayed away from the muddiest parts. I ran the birdsong app; it detected quite a few more birds than it has done recently, and for the first time it detected an owl.

 

We came home where “er indoors ^TM” was playing music from The Wombles on the Alexa. I scrubbed the dogs, made us both a cuppa, wrote up some CPD, and then had my daily go at Wordle. Starting with “daily” was a better move than many of my first choices. “Latte” took me one letter closer, and “pales” told me where the “e” and the “l” went. “Camel” took me no further, but “bagel” gave me the clue I needed to come up with “gavel” on the last attempt.

 

We cleared the space by the fuse box, and soon there was a tap on the door. Two weeks ago the light switch in the loo broke, and the nice man came to replace it with a new one today. I had looked at the job myself, but I’m a great believer in getting in someone who knows what they are doing. The nice man took out the broken switch, put in a new one, and was on his way in twenty minutes. I would have been at it all day.

 

I then spent a little while geo-plotting. Do I want to put out a new series of geocaches… I quite like setting the things up, and planning them gives me something to do.

I then spent much of the afternoon snuggled on the sofa with Morgan reading “Harry Potter” on my Kindle app.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up pizza and chips which we scoffed whilst watching episodes of “The Floor”.

Today has been rather lazy; I’m really going to have an early night tonight… but first I’m going to the toilet because I can see what I’m doing in there now… I’ve been saving it for the works chodbin for the last fortnight…

5 February 2026 (Thursday) - Rather Busy

I intended to have an early night last night: I eventually went to my pit shortly before one o’clock. But the dogs were tired and soon settled, and with them quiet I slept well.

 

I got up at eight o’clock, made toast and had my usual look at the Internet. Reform UK featured quite prominently in my Facebook feed this morning. Two of its latest recruits have ballsed up and mistakenly voted against party policy in the House of Commons. And having got voted into power in the local county council after promising endless savings, the Reform UK councillor in charge of making them has resigned because they’ve had a year and not actually made any savings.

However on a more local level things are different. Our Reform UK councillor is working wonders in highlighting the issues with the pot holes in the local roads. And sadly our local (Labour) MP is full of hot air, and has turned out to be something of a disappointment..

I sent out birthday wishes, Munzed, and starting with “Tired” I eventually Wordled my way to “swoop” on the last attempt.

 

The weather forecast was light rain showers for the whole day, so I took a chance and took the dogs to the woods. As I drove “In Our Time” was on the radio; today talking about the plays of William Shakespeare. He died over four hundred years ago, and according to Wikipedia he “is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist”. So many people still rave about his works. We read his plays at school… I can remember them being tedious and dull. But (like with pretty much every bit of literature we ever read at school), the teachers did their level best to kill it stone dead. Many years ago we also read “Fahrenheit 451”, “Lord of the Flies”, “2001”, “Animal Farm”, “1984”, “All Quiet on the Western Front” (among others). My English teachers over-analysed everything, made all sorts of tenuous nonsensical connections and extrapolations, and sucked all the pleasure and enjoyment out of every book we ever come close to. Years later I went back to these books (and others) to find that they are actually rather good.

Why do English teachers make a point of putting students off of reading?

I really should try Shakespeare again…

 

We got to the woods to find the light rain had subsided to little more than drizzle. We kept (mostly) to the more well-trodden tracks and once we were away from the car park the woods weren’t as muddy as they might have been. But sticking to these tracks meant our walk was about a mile shorter than usual.

 

We came home where the dogs had their paws and bellies washed. I made us both a cuppa and sparked up my lap-top. A friend had seen the Prime Minister in Hastings. He was talking about the ongoing Mendelson scandal… He won’t last. The trouble he faces is that he average voter doesn’t understand politics and just wants to be entertained.

I marked more trainee work, wrote up some CPD, did a lesson and some puzzles on chess dot com, put washing in to scrub and then had a minor pootle in the garden. The seed in the bird feeder had got damp and had sprouted into grass, so I eventually managed to get the thing apart, I got the grass out and scrubbed it up. I put the bits on the radiator to dry.

 

By then my shirts were washed so I ironed them. Shirts are far easier to iron when still damp. And then I cracked on with the rest of the ironing. As I did I watched some episodes of “Four In a Bed” in which like was certainly *not* compared with like. There was a rather fancy hotel (which pulled out after the second episode), a Blackpool seaside B&B, a rather rough and ready pub, and a glamping campsite. It really wasn’t a fair contest, but it rarely is.

 

I put the bird feeder back together again, filled it, and put it back into place just as it was getting dark.

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up pork chops which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy” which was perhaps the best one so far. I won’t give any spoilers, but having been a Trekkie for over fifty years did help…

 

Oh – and as the rain continues to fall, the hosepipe ban has been lifted.

4 February 2026 (Wednesday) - Early Shift

I woke in a cold sweat at half past four this morning following a rather vivid dream in which I was unable to unblock my tent's drain which was bunged up with a variety of geocaches. 

I wasn't going to get back to sleep after that so I got up, made toast and watched an episode of "Harlots" in which the main protagonists were getting rather lesbidaceous (which was rather entertaining). But one thing in the show made me wonder. Were there really gentlemen's clubs in which members would get together to kill prostitutes two hundred years ago? No one ever told me about them; if true, that would have made Mr. Fletcher's frankly dull history lessons far more interesting.

 

I got dressed, and set off to work.  The road works on Chart Road that delayed me for an hour last night were still there this morning. One of the busiest roads in the town bunged up with traffic lights and reduced to single file traffic whilst absolutely no work was taking place. There were quite impressive queues at six o'clock this morning; it would have been mayhem at rush hour. I really don't see why road works on a major thoroughfare can't be worked on round the clock until the job is done.

Going up the motorway wasn't good either. With the slow lane filled with lorries going at fifty miles per hour and the middle lane filled with lorries overtaking them at fifty-one miles per hour I was again forced into the fast lane and was constantly tail-ended by those anxious to fly past at breakneck speeds.

As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about all the government's latest initiative for cancer screening... Am I being cynical in thinking that this will be dead in the water before it even starts? What the current (and every) government needs to do is to leave the NHS alone and stop re-organising. The NHS spends too much time having re-organisations at the expense of doing what it is supposed to do.

 

I stopped off in Sainsbury to get a sandwich and another bottle of the Malbec that I got yesterday. Getting the sandwich took some doing; there was some bloke blundering about in front of the fridge who was utterly oblivious to the world around him. The chap was genuinely surprised and shocked when he crashed into the woman standing next to him and suddenly realised he wasn't alone. He clearly had no idea there was anyone else in the shop with him.

Again the self-service machine wanted verification that I was old enough to buy a bottle of plonk, and again the woman doing the verification refused to acknowledge me in any way. Would saying "hello" or "good morning" have caused her physical pain?

 

I got to work and did my bit.  As I did I had a phone call. Jane from "Later Living Help Line" was keen to tell me that if I needed to go into residential care the fees could be as much as six thousand quid per month. Did I want an initial free consultation with one of their experts. This expert would then advise me on which sort of specialist expert I would need to pay to tell me pretty much what I already knew.

If I need residential care it won't come cheap. I've decided I don't want it and if I get to the stage of needing it, then would rather have my plug pulled.

I told her that I wasn't interested, but she seemed reluctant to be told to buzz off. To be honest I found her telephone manner rather off-putting; she spoke to me as though I was already senile. I suppose that's her target audience though, isn't it.

Also as I worked I saw something rather nasty. Loa loa is a parasitic worm; about a tenth of a centimetre long it swims around in your blood and can live for over fifteen years. As parasites go they are rather good at it as (for the most part) they are innocuous and you don't realise they are there. I'm told that "they make good lodgers" (!), and also that if you've got an infestation I'm told you can sometimes see them swimming in your field of vision as they can get into your eyes. 

Fortunately today's case was a quality control one; a sample sent to us from the London School of Tropical Medicine to check we know what we are doing. But it's still something rather nasty... 

And if that hasn't turned your stomach enough, bear in mind that it could be worse. I can remember deciding that I didn't want to be a medical microbiologist one summer's day in 1982 when I watched the head of the microbiology department holding up a bottle of diarrhoea, and several senior colleagues were all delighted that they could see things swimming in it.

I don't often mention what I do at work. Much of it is rather confidential, and much of it turns people's stomachs... being a blood tester isn't for the faint-hearted... 

 

Being on the early shift meant I left work whilst it was still light, and with the road works in Chart Road finished I got home a lot quicker than I did yesterday. And with the road works in Chart Road finished it was quite clear that had they cracked on with it last night, this morning’s delays would have been avoided.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up chicken escallops which we scoffed whilst watching more of “The Traitors: Ireland” in which the contestants again spent much of the time bitterly bickering with each other.

 

Having been up since half past four I might have an early night…

3 February 2026 (Tuesday) - A Bottle of Plonk

I managed a couple of hours sleep until “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs quietly came to bed last night. The minor riot didn't last *that* long, but it was some time before they all stopped fidgetting. I dozed on and off; eventually giving up and getting up at five o'clock. 

I watched another episode of "Harlots"; the plot is getting rather good. And then I had a quick look at the Internet. A friend was asking if anyone remembered The Grumbleweeds. I used to listen to them all the time when I was a lad. They were perhaps the funniest thing that had ever been on the radio. “Wilf "Gas Mask" Grimshaw” always had me in hysterics. And then they moved to being on the telly. What a disappointment. Full of confidence on the radio, they would make half-hearted attempts at jokes when on screen, and then nervously smile at the camera in the desperate hope that someone might chuckle. Hilarious on the radio, just pitiful on the telly. Such a shame.

And I saw adverts for the Folkestone Shoreline development. On Saturday I mentioned the flats on Folkestone seafront; this morning my Facebook feed was crawling with adverts for the place.

 

Taking care not to disturb anyone I got ready for work. It was rather amazing how a gang which could be so noisy and restless in the small hours could be so peaceful at seven o'clock.

I got to my car and eventually set off. Some idiot had wedged his mini into the space in front of my car leaving me maybe eight inches of space. There certainly wasn't enough space to walk between my car and that mini.

Once on my way I listened to the pundits on the radio talking about (soon to be ex-) Lord Mandelson who (when in government) apparently passed on no end of confidential information to disgraced Jeffrey Epstein quite possibly giving him the heads-up for all sorts of dodgy dealings.

 

I went in to Sainsburys where I got a sandwich and a bottle of plonk. As I scanned the bottle through the self-service machine it said it needed clearance for me to be allowed the bottle of plonk. The delightful assistant (who hates me filling the self-service machine with all the copper and silver coins I cash up from the Dog Club takings) stomped over, scanned her card into the machine, and stomped off again. At no stage did she actually speak or even grunt to me. She then stood and glared as I emptied all the copper and silver coins from last Saturday's Dog Club into the self-service machine. When I was done I proudly told her that I'd put over nine quid's worth of small change in and that my pocket felt a lot lighter.  She turned a rather bright shade of red. I don't know why this bothers her... but it is rather amusing that it does.

 

As I worked “er indoors ^TM” sent a message. The nice boiler mad had been and done the annual service. Apparently we needed a new gasket, and he sorted that for us.

 

Coming home was a nightmare. What with hold-ups at junctions seven and eight on the motorway and unattended traffic lights on Chart Road the journey home from Maidstone (which usually takes forty-five minutes) took just over two hours.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up some very good burritos which we washed down with the bottle of plonk I’d bought earlier. Sainsbury’s “House Malbec” is rather good stuff, and you get change out of a fiver as well. I shall get another bottle of that tomorrow.

As we scoffed we watched the latest episode of “The Traitors: Ireland”. This lot of contestants are rather argumentative…

2 February 2026 (Monday) - A Day Off (?)

I had a relatively good night. However if I’m in my pit for more than six hours I usually start aching and my hips were particularly painful this morning. I got up, and did my usual morning routine.

The Internet was much the same as it ever is. The river had burst its banks near Asda again. And again people were queueing up to whinge, but no one was prepared to whinge at the councillors and MPs and agencies that could do something about it. The local Green councillor has said that there’s been a study done and the issue is that the river needs dredging downstream. However he says that’s someone else’s department. If only people would tell the Environment Agency about the floods rather than posting on Facebook… if only people understood how the world works.

And there was a lot of complaining about cyclists vooming about in the dark, all clad in black with no lights on their bikes. I’ve seen several of these lately along the A28. Do they really want to get flattened; you don’t see them until they are nearly under the front wheels of your car.

I Munzed, and with the dogs having had their brekkie I took them to the woods.

 

As we drove the pundits on the radio were having a “discussion” about genetically modified foods in which a university professor explained exactly what genetically modified stuff is all about, and a clueless half-wit spouted complete rubbish. It bothers me that the BBC treat considered expert opinion and deranged ranting as being of equal value.

We got to the woods and Morgan immediately downloaded. I sighed, bagged it and left it by my car’s front wheel; I wasn’t going to carry that round the woods. It wasn’t long before we met another dog, The dog came and said hello; Bailey screamed in terror and bolted, and Treacle and Morgan both leapt forward to stick up for her by shouting at the other dog...

It was all soon sorted; a total over-reaction by Bailey, but the poor woman with the other dog was distraught with worry about poor Bailey (who can be a real drama queen at times). I eventually persuaded the poor woman that no harm had been done and all was fine, and we continued our walk. We took a slightly different walk to our usual one to avoid the worst of the mud. After Bailey’s scare the rest of the walk was rather dull. But we had a minor result; when we got back to the car someone had tidied up the bad of dog dung I’d left.

 

We came home. I washed the mud (and fox poo) off of the dogs. I set the washing machine going, made us both a cuppa, and we had it with a lemon curd bun. I then did geo-paperwork.

First of all I got on to English Heritage (again). Back in December I contacted them about getting permission to set up an EarthCache at Camber Castle. They said to give them ten days… thirty-five have passed.

And then I looked at the geocaching Adventure Lab I’d set up at Lenham church. It’s a simple thing; you call it up in the geocaching Adventure Lab app and it takes you to five locations round the church and asks you a question. One of the locations is the War Memorial. You go there where you can see the names of lots of people on the memorial and their occupations. The question is “What is the occupation of M E Gale?” So you look at the War Memorial, find where it says “M E Gale – nurse”, and type “nurse” into the app. One hundred and twenty people have managed to do this so far, but this morning as we’d walked round the woods I’d had a message that someone had logged that the question wasn’t clear. How much clearer can I make it?

I sent out no end of invites to this month’s geo-meet.

 

By then the washing machine was done so I hung the washing on the clothes horse, put more washing in, wrote up some CPD, marked more trainee portfolio work, and then feeling as though I hadn’t stopped I turned on the telly and did my usual thing of spending the afternoon getting cross at the contestants in “Four In A Bed”.

Here’s a tip for anyone going on that show – if someone says something insulting or upsetting about your establishment, you will be the second one to find out. The first will be absolutely everyone else because they actually show the problem on the telly. Just saying “I don’t believe you” makes you look to be a twit when they’ve already shown the issue to the rest of the world.

During the adverts I hung out washing and put the undercrackers into scrub.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up pizza and then went off bowling. I settled on the sofa and watched more episodes of “Harlots” which is a surprisingly good show. It’s now got to the point that the plot is so good that they don’t need to keep brandishing the jubblies. And they aren’t. Which is probably for the best…

1 February 2026 (Sunday) - Early Shift

I woke at four o'clock. Not exactly raring to go, but I was awake. I got up and watched an episode of "Harlots" as I scoffed my toast. I wonder just how historically accurate that show is. Even with no jubblies being brandished it was certainly more interesting than the history lessons I had at school. Our history teacher had us (over the course of a year) copy out some rather dull text book, and consequently we learned nothing.

 

Taking care not to wake anyone I got ready for work and set off. As I drove west-wards I was amazed at how many other people were up and about at six o'clock on a Sunday morning. So many houses with lights on; so many cars driving far too fast on a very dark, wet and rainy morning.

As I drove I listened to the radio.  It started off with an article about the history of film-making. Apparently colour film was first seriously developed by Hitler's Germany, and so using colour film was seen by many as a political thing and using it was felt by many to be supporting the Nazis. And this is (supposedly) why black and white films persisted so long when colour film was available. Don't say I never learn you nuffink!

This was followed by half an hour about the history of the Old Gloucester breed of cattle. What might have been a very dull subject was brought to life and I found myself engrossed.

 

I went in to the early shift and had a rather full-on day. Periodically I looked out the window and saw that it rained pretty much all day. I don’t mind working at the weekends when it rains.

Eventually home time came, and I came home.

 

Having left home in the dark I got home just as it was getting dark. I found that “er indoors ^TM” had been busy doing laundry, and I was dragooned into helping make the bed. My contribution was to measure the duvet; apparently duvets and duvet covers come in a range of sizes. I had no idea.

 

We had a rather good bit of dinner, then spent the evening playing “Ticket to Ride” on the Infinity table. We had three games: Europe, Switzerland and Nordic Countries. I amazed myself by winning two games. Now I’m beginning to understand the scoring, this game is getter better and better….

I’m glad we got the Infinity table out; weekend days when I work can be somewhat dull otherwise…

31 January 2026 (Saturday) - Dog Club, Folkestone, Infinity Table

As I peered into Facebook this morning I saw some extremes – heavy snow and sub-zero temperatures from friends in America; over forty degrees from friends in in New South Wales.

Other than a lot of nasty bickering about politics there wasn’t much else on social media this morning really. Perhaps I should fiddle with the settings of my Facebook feed. I see so little from the groups I’ve joined (period dramas, eighties music, painting, dogs, fishing, Sparks, Munzing…) and I get so many suggestions of “you might be interested in” about things that are of no interest to me at all.

Three Facebook friends had birthdays today. One I vaguely know through having met through geocaching. One with whom I used to work ten years ago. And one who died a couple of years ago. Paul was a good ‘un. Very active in the kite-flying community he was one of the people who organised everything so that everyone else could have a good time. The world needs more people like him.

I had no emails of note. I Munzed, and Wordled from “thing” to “allot” in five goes. As I strained my brain so Steve was on the radio doing the “Guess the Lyrics” competition. “We know all our lines so well. We’ve said them so many times. Time and time again”. No? – “Wow” by Kate Bush.

 

We drove round to Dog Club where we had a rather good time. It was a tad cold, and very muddy. But the dogs had a great time. They usually do. It was a shame that Roo had to get a tad amorous at Smudge. He does that, but today we got as far as brandishing the lipstick. That sort of thing is always very entertaining all the time it is someone else’s dog doing it.

As we drove home Steve was doing the Mystery Year on the radio. When did Chessington World of Adventure open? 1987.

I like my Saturday early morning with Steve on the radio and Dog Club. I missed it last week, and unless I can swap shifts I will miss it again next week.

 

We took the dogs down to Folkestone and had a rather good walk along the Leas. There’s some rather posh apartments where the market used to be. I had a vague plan about upping sticks and retiring to one of them until I had a look at the place’s website. I’d be paying a *lot* of money for very little other than a sea view which for much of the winter would be bleak, and for much of the summer would be heaving with the normal people.

 

We came home; I dozed for an hour or so, and then Mark and Sam came round. They’d been thinking about getting an Infinity table, and so we spent the evening putting ours through its paces. Trouble, Sorry, Game of Life, bowling, Chicken Wrangler, Hungry Hippos… It was good to catch up. There are so many people in my life that I really don’t see enough of. We really must do this again…

Perhaps the fourth pint was a tad keen – I’ve got to be up early tomorrow…

30 January 2026 (Friday) - Bit Dull

I would have slept well had Treacle not decided to stomp all over my head at half past four, and having stomped all over my head she then took over my pillow. “er indoors ^TM”  “quietly remonstrated” with her (!) and Treacle set up next to me and pushed and pushed. I eventually dozed off again once she eventually fell asleep.

 

I got up at eight o’clock and stood on the scales. I stood on them before going to bed last night, and overnight my weight had gone up by two pounds.  I stood on them again after I’d had a shave and my weight had come back down by five pounds. What was that all about?

I made toast and had a look at the Internet. I do that every morning. It was much the same as ever.

I Munzed, and looked at the drizzle. With rain showers forecast for all day I thought I might as well take a chance on a walk and hope for the best.

 

As I started driving so the heavens opened, but the downpour only lasted for about a minute. As we drove to the woods the leader of the opposition Kemi Badenoch was on Desert Island Discs. Like so many politicians she spoke a lot of sense. Politicians wind me up. When you listen to what they have to say it is so sensible, and usually utterly at odds with what their stated policies actually are.

We got to the woods. We walked four miles; not quite our usual route as I didn’t fancy the uphill bit in slippery mud. As we walked we saw several other dog walkers, and a herd of deer which was far too fast for me to catch with the camera.

 

We drove home via the petrol station where (as well as petrol) I treated myself to a creme egg. There’s a hundred and seventy calories I really didn’t need. And we had a minor episode as we came along Brookfield Road. Some idiot in a lorry took exception to my stopping for the red traffic light and had a good blast on his hooter, and then drove about two yards from the back of my car for the next mile, even though from his high vantage point he could see I could go no faster. It was a shame that his lorry bore no company logo so I had no idea to whom I might complain. I contented myself by having a little whinge on rate-driver.com. More people should use that website.

 

We got home and the dogs had a warm shower. For all that we were right to have gone out for a walk (we had maybe five minutes of drizzle in an hour and a half’s walking), the dogs got very grubby. And with them scrubbed and soon snoring I made a cuppa for “er indoors ^TM” and me.

I then spent an hour marking more trainee work. It’s what I used to do back in the day when I was supervisor and manager. But back in the day things were different. When I was supervisor and manager I never felt that I was very good at supervisor-ing and manager-ing. I’ve never seen the need for endless paperwork, and I don’t have the temperament for meetings. I can remember (about twenty years ago) being formally ordered to a meeting at which the managers of our department would discuss our approach to a larger meeting of a bigger group of managers. However the outcome of that larger meeting had already been decided.

Not only was I the only one who felt that both meetings were a waste of time, I was taken to one side and told that I wasn’t being a team player.

I don’t want to go back to supervisor-ing and manager-ing, but I can assess trainee’s work.

 

I wrote up some CPD, and them remembered I’d not Wordled. So I Wordled. Starting with “waste” was a waste of a go, so I tried “found” and got two vowels (if nothing else). “Group” got me no closer. Bearing in mind that there wasn’t really anywhere else to put the vowels I eventually came up with the answer (jumbo) on the fourth attempt.

 

I did my usual trick of spending the afternoon watching episodes of “Four In a Bed” in which an obnoxious pair of oiks won despite no-one actually managing to sleep in their establishment because of all the road noise. 

 

“er indoors ^TM” sorted fish and chips and went off out for the evening. I settled under a pile of dogs and watched more episodes of “Harlots”.

I’ve spent a lot of today watching telly…

29 January 2026 (Thursday) - A Longer Walk

I slept well; as I often do when there’s no alarm set and the dogs are settled. I got up at eight o’clock, made toast and peered into the Internet.

This morning my Facebook feed was full of adverts for wine companies. All of them operating under the same premise – buy six bottles of wine from them for about thirty quid (bargain!)… and then they send you six more bottles every two months for a hundred and twenty quid. I’d rather buy a bottle from Sainsburys when I want one.

And I saw there’s a Taco Bell coming to Ashford.  There used to be one in Folkestone. I quite liked it; shame that hardly anyone used the place.

I Munzed, Wordled from “house” to “flaky” in four moves, and seeing it wasn’t raining I got ready for the off.

 

I drove the dogs up to the woods. As I drove “In Our Time” was on the radio. It’s a show that can be really interesting or incredibly dull. Today’s was about the Roman circuses which featured gladiators fighting wild animals and each other… or so we think. It turns out that there’s very little actual evidence of what Roman circuses were all about. Take for example the thumbs-up or thumbs-down for whether or not the loser gets killed. There’s no evidence at all that this was ever a thing. I can remember being told this at school when I did Latin O-level. Pretty much everything we think we know about gladiators was made up by Hollywood for their films.

 

We got to the woods, and took a different walk to our usual one. As we walked we met no end of noisy normal people, and our friends Amie and Willow. I didn’t recognise them; I’m hopeless at recognising people.

Usually we walk a shade over four miles; we covered six today.

 

We came home for a bath. When we got into the car all three dogs were filthy. When we got home the girls had quite clearly cleaned themselves a bit. Morgan hadn’t. And with dogs bathed I made a cuppa for “er indoors ^TM” and me, and then spent a couple of hours marking more trainees’ work. Sickle cell, malaria, morphology…

 

The afternoon was spent (as it so often is) watching episodes of “Four In A Bed” in which one stuck-up toffee-nosed old biddy found fault after fault with everyone else’s B&Bs, but needed the other contestant to help her make her breakfasts, and her place was utterly filthy because (as she openly admitted) she wasn’t a cleaner.

I sometimes wonder if these people are actually actors.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up bangers and mash which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy” which was rather good. I do hope this show survives the serious attacks being made on in on-line by the supposed fans.

28 January 2026 (Wednesday) - Five Pounds Up

Again with an alarm set I woke far too early. I made toast and watched another episode of "Harlots" which was rather good. The scriptwriters have now got away from flopping out the jubbliles every so often and moved on to actually having a plot. 

I had a very quick look at the Internet. What with all the rain yesterday the underpass near Asda had flooded again, and the Facebook page devoted to that underpass flooding was full of whinging. I asked if anyone (other than me) had contacted the councillors or our Member of Parliament about the issue. From the comments it was quite clear that no one wanted the flooding to actually get dealt with; everyone would far rather have something to whinge about

 

Taking great care not to wake anyone I got dressed. Have you ever got dressed in the dark? Not getting your undercrackers on back to front is simple enough, but socks can be tricky.

I looked out of the window and saw the cars outside were iced up.

I’d checked the weather forecast just before I went to bed last night. The forecast from eleven o’clock last night until this morning had been cloudy but with no rain and temperatures of about five degrees. There was also a formal warning for ice and snow. How did that work? Only one could be right.

Sadly it was the warning about the ice.

 

I scraped the ice off of the car’s windscreen and drove west-wards expecting the roads to be terrible having seen loads of photos of floods on the local Facebook pages yesterday. They weren't that bad really; there was a large puddle at London Beach (just north of Tenterden) but other than that the roads were quite passable.

As I drove I listened to the radio as I do. The pundits on the radio were broadcasting from Cardiff where they are gearing up for elections to the Welsh parliament. Apparently Reform UK look set to get at least a third of the vote. And that is despite Reform UK not having a leader in Wales, nor having published any policies or manifestos. One in three people have already decided who they are voting for with no idea of what they are voting for. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying Reform UK will be bad for Wales. I'm saying that we have absolutely no way of knowing what they are promising, but one in three Welsh people clearly don't care. Democracy, eh?

And there were interviews with disgruntled Cornish fishermen. In the past they made their living from selling the crabs and lobsters they caught, but more and more their crab and lobster pots are coming up full of empty shells. Apparently octopi are eating all the crabs and lobsters and dumping the empty shells in the pots.

 

There was a minor result as I got my sandwich in Tesco; as I pocketed my change I saw a fiver laying on the floor by the self-service checkout.  Had I dropped it, or had it been there all along?  At worst I'd broken even, and at best I was a fiver up on the day. 

 

I went in to work, and did my thing. By nine o'clock I'd walked more steps than I'd walked all day yesterday.

I did spend a little while sulking though. Yesterday had been a very dull day as the constant heavy rain had stopped me doing anything. Today might not have been the best day, but it was dry. We could have gone a few miles round the woods. We might have got muddy, but we could have got a decent walk in.

But on the plus side was a little biccie at tea time.

 

Being on an early made for an early finish, and I had most of the drive home in daylight. “er indoors ^TM” boiled up bacon, egg and chips and we tried to watch more episodes of “The Traitors: Ireland” whilst Treacle squeaked like a thing possessed. Having wolfed down all her biscuits she was adamant that she should have Bailey’s half-dozen biccies too. Treacle is such a greedy thing.

Dogs, eh?