As I turned the telly on this morning there was an
episode of “Friends” playing. I loathe and detest that show for the very
reason that my mother would have loved it. Every time there’s a joke, the
canned laughter is played (far too loudly) and the cast all grimace at
the camera so that you know it is funny. My mother could never understand
comedy that didn’t tell you quite so bluntly that it was funny, and to her any
comedy show without the canned laughter was just “strange”.
I watched another episode of “The Man In The High
Castle” then had a look at the Internet in case I’d missed much. I hadn’t
really. There were quite a few photos from the Jack In The Green celebrations
in Hastings yesterday, and a friend had acquired a cat in much the same way as
we once lost one. Someone’s cat has just moved in to his house. Many years ago
our old cat just stopped coming home and went to live with the mad old woman
down the road.
Taking care not to wake anyone I got ready for work.
I set off to work listening to the pundits on the
radio as I do. The cease fire in the Middle East is into its fourth week but is
beginning
to look shaky. For all that the Iranians aren't the ones that
started it, you'd think that they would realise that the Americans are being
led by a twit and they would make some allowances, wouldn't you?
And there was a lot of talk about this week's upcoming elections. It seems odd
how a Prime Minster who won such a landslide victory over a year or so ago is
now so hated by the electorate and is running scared from a party which has a
proven track record of stuffing it up. The first time UKIP ran a council, they nearly bankrupted it when Thanet District
Council descended into chaos, with plunging reserves, mass resignations, and
warnings of financial collapse whilst the UKIP councillors focused on national
talking points instead of fixing local problems. And they've not done much better with Kent County Council either, have they? But
as I've said (many times before) UKIP, Reform UK or whatever they are
called this week just loudly and confidently tell the masses what the
masses want to hear, whilst in comparison the Prime Minister is very dull.
I went in to Sainsburys to get a sandwich. The
miserable old woman was on duty today, standing over the self-service tills and
glaring at the public. Her time would be so much more productively put to use
if she were to actually do something.
And then it was on to work where it was surprisingly
busy.
Being on an early I got out promptly. I came home
where we did “FEED THE FISH” and I was a tad miffed to see the pond’s
aerator pump was struggling somewhat. I only cleaned that out yesterday. Mind
you I did get given it second hand from the people who used to live next door
who moved out six years ago so I can’t really complain. I’ve got a vague idea
there’s another old pump in the shed… I shall have a look.
“er indoors TM” boiled
up sausages and chips which we scoffed whilst watching a couple of episodes of “The
Orville”. One of them starred two doctors from “Star Trek”, and both episodes had ideas that had been done years ago in “Star Trek”… but “The
Orville” probably did them better.
And in closing, I’ve found myself spending much of
today thinking back to another day after a Bank Holiday. It was in the early
eighties when I was slowly coming out of my religious nut phase. I had an exam
the day after the Bank Holiday. On the day of the Bank Holiday there was some
happy-clappy religious event bollox taking place to which all my mates of the
time were going. I'd planned to miss this event because I needed to revise for
the exam. But my fellow religious nut friends seriously claimed that if I went
to the happy-clappy religious event bollox then God himself would help
me with the exam. But (so it was claimed) if I didn't go, then God
would take personal offence that I hadn't gone sucking up and would make sure
the exam was needlessly difficult.
That really was the mentality of the righteous with
whom I used to associate. And one of them currently runs a church in the West
Country.
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