I slept rather well last night, waking just after
seven o’clock when Treacle declared “Red Alert” for no reason that I
could see. It was probably as well that she did though; I was embroiled in a
nightmare in which I had been seconded to the Department of Health to head up a
program to screen wild rabbits for sickle cell disease, and I was the only
person who could see the stupidity of rounding up wild animals to test them for
a condition that they don’t have.
I made toast and had a look at the Internet and saw
something interesting on Facebook. A question: “You are walking past a
shallow pond when you see a child struggling in the water. There is no one else
around—no
parent or guardian. You are about to wade in to save the child, when you notice
that you are wearing your most expensive new shoes, and there’s no time to
remove them. Shoes or kid?”
Well, obviously I’d jump in… But I didn’t realise that I
wouldn’t have to. Legally here in the UK there is no
obligation for anyone to help anyone who might be in distress. Which made me
think. Is there anyone who I would leave to drown? It bothers me that there
might well be. Is there anyone you would leave to drown?
I also saw that last night’s squabble on the “Upstairs
Downstairs” Facebook page that I moderate had died down. Late yesterday
evening someone posted up a quiz about the TV show. Someone else felt the
questions were too hard, and got rather nasty in their criticism. I’ve fiddled
with the settings so that anything else the nasty one wants to post to the
group from here on needs to be assessed by a moderator. It’s rather pathetic
that a woman in her late sixties needs to be treated in this way.
I Munzed, Wordled from “after” to “cubic”
in four goes, then looked out of the window again. It had been raining when I
got up, but the rain had eased off a bit.
For a change we went somewhere different for our walk
today. We’ve not been to Longbeech for a while. We got there to find much of
the car park was being used as a free campsite by a huge motorhome. They often
park there because they save twenty quid a night by not going to a proper
campsite. But we parked up and went for a little wander. In the past I’ve
mentioned that I’m not keen on Longbeech Woods as there’s effectively one long
path and several paths branch off at right angles leading either to the road or
to dead-ends. But since we were last there someone’s opened up new paths making
it possible to have a decent walk without having to back-track on yourself all
the time.
Despite the forecast rain, it didn’t rain whilst we
walked, and we got over two and a half miles done; only seeing one other group
as we went. It was muddy though.
As we drove home the pundits on the radio were talking about Finasteride. Supposedly a drug
available only through prescription, it is openly advertised on-line. It claims
to combat hair loss, and it would seem that not everyone is like me and
resigned to being bald. A sizeable proportion of the nation’s six million
slapheads want to turn back time and hand over good money to hair loss drugs.
Sadly for all that this Finasteride does combat hair loss, it also shrinks the
nads and reduces the base urges that inspire you to brandish the nads, which (ironically)
is the main reason why many want to get their hair back, isn’t it? And in some
extreme cases it also causes severe depression. And many of these side effects
don’t happen until after you’ve stopped taking the drug.
Personally I think there’s something faintly
ridiculous about seeing someone who was once losing their hair suddenly having
the head of someone thirty years younger, but what do I know?
We got home. Muddy pays and bellies were hosed off in
the bath. Muddy trousers went into the washing machine, and I sorted a cuppa. I
then spent a couple of hours assessing trainees’ scripts. Blood borne
parasites, infectious mononucleosis, sickle cell disease and anticoagulants…
the sooner they get their qualifications the sooner they can do all the shifts
that I keep whinging that I am too old to be doing.
I spent a dull afternoon watching episodes of “Four
In A Bed” in which (as always) people started off friendly and end
up being as nasty as possible to each other.
“er indoors TM” boiled
up pie and mash and we settled into what seems to be a standard way to spend the
evening. “Junior Bake Off” followed by “The Traitors”. It was
only a shame that Treacle had to elbow me in the pods.
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