With no alarm set I had a decent night. I slept
through till nearly seven o’clock. I got up, made toast and had a look at the
Internet. Last night I’d been looking at bottles of stout on Amazon; this
morning my Facebook feed was filled with adverts for beer and posts from
pub-related Facebook pages. It would seem that a pint of stout is over ten quid
in some of the pubs in London. More and more, a pub is a luxury beyond the
pockets of most people.
I took the dogs out. As we drove the pundits on the
radio were interviewing some politician or other. The person and the topic of
the interview were irrelevant as it just went the same way of every political
interview. Something scandalous had happened, and some government minister
agreed to go on national radio to be interviewed about the matter only to evade
every question asked of them. Why go on the radio at all if all you are going
to do is effectively make yourself and your chosen party look bad?
We got to the woods an hour earlier than usual and the
car park was a lot busier than it is at nine o’clock. We set off on our walk
and soon met two normal people having an argument. Their dogs were playing, but
clearly these people didn’t know what dog play looked like, and both were
shouting at the other to call their dog away. Morgan and Bailey joining in
probably didn’t help matters at all, but they came away when I called them. We
walked off leaving the normal people arguing and the dogs playing.
Apart from that, the walk was rather uneventful. We
went round four and a bit miles and came back to the car when I noticed the fox
poo smeared all up Bailey’s back. Up to that point I’d hoped we might not have
needed a bath when we got home.
We came home and had that bath. I put a load of
washing in to scrub, made myself a cuppa and Munzed. Then I had a little look
at Wordle. Bearing in mind the state Bailey had been in earlier I started with
“turds” which gave me an “s” in the wrong place. Following on
from that I tried “shite” which was a mistake as I already knew the “t”
wasn’t there, but it told me where the “s” went. “Spell” got me
almost there, and “smell” did the trick.
We then had a minor commotion as “My Boy TM” came
to visit. He returned the pressure-washer he’d borrowed at the weekend and
helped me take the shingle-patterned liner off of the pond’s bog filter. The
stuff never looked right. I really want to get some sort of waterproof
lino-type stuff with a dark rock pattern, but I just can’t find any.
I played with ChatGPT some more, and wrote
up some CPD until the washing machine finished. I ironed shirts,
then voomed round with the Hoover, dinged out the recycling, sorted out the
event page for my planned midsummer’s eve picnic and generally tidied up. As I
fiddled around I watched “Vladimir”
on Netflix. It was a rather good show about a couple of aging university
professors who had an “open marriage” in which they both carried on
porking whoever they fancied. I found myself reminded of a chap with whom I
used to work who could never keep it inside his trousers.
With the dogs snoring I loudly announced that I was
going to “FEED THE FISH”. That caused some minor mayhem.
“er indoors TM” came home from a
day at the office. Pogo came with her – he’s having a little holiday with us.
We had a pasta bake for tea whilst watching the last episode of the current
season of “Starfleet
Academy”. There’s going to be another season next year; it’s got another
chance…
As long as there’s been spin-offs of Star Trek (since
the animated series in 1973) I’ve been whinging about those who don’t like the
spin-offs… and here I am now one of those I used to whinge about.
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