I
found a position in which I can sleep on my side without the carpal tunnel
nonsense kicking off, and I slept till eight o’clock.
I
made toast and had a look at the Internet as I do every morning. It was still
there, and much the same as ever. One thing on Facebook made me think. Several
pages had posts about influencer claiming her holiday had been ruined after
paying a Cornish local good money for directions to a secret beach which didn’t
exist.
However for all that the world and his wife were
queuing up to rip into this idiot, I tried to look a little deeper. All the
articles on line said that “Surrey-based content creator Chardonnay Skye,
known online as ChardOnTour, had been searching for somewhere to film on
Cornwall’s north coast…” so I Googled. All that came up were links to the
story on various social media platforms. There was nothing that I could find
about “Chardonnay Skye” or “ChardOnTour”. Was it all made-up
bollox? Clearly everyone is seeing it and spreading the story without checking
anything.
It
was raining… well, drizzle. We went for our walk anyway. Despite the wet day
there were two other cars in the car park at Orlestone, but fortunately the
twit who sits in his car giving a running commentary of the world wasn’t there.
We went for a little walk, and suddenly there was a commotion. One of the
normal people had come out of a path about fifty yards behind us and Morgan and
Bailey had gone to shout at him. I whistled and they both came running. Their
recall is rather impressive when it works.
I’d
told the dogs they weren’t to roll in fox poo. To be fair to them I didn’t say
anything about not eating the stuff and so Bailey had a mouthful. And then
Morgan had a roll anyway. Treacle didn’t wade into the huge puddle at the top
of the woods so I shall be grateful for small mercies.
We
came home through Shadoxhurst avoiding the ongoing traffic hold-ups at Magpie
Hall Road. I usually forget those, and spend an age sitting at a red light.
Once
home we had a bath. Fox poo notwithstanding, paws and bellies were grubby. The
dogs then had a late brekkie and Bailey ate all of hers; proving the theory
that she doesn’t eat when faced with the prospect of going for a walk.
I
Munzed, Wordled from “found” to “theta” (stupid word) in
five goes, then took the car to Halfords for its MOT.
I
left the car with the nice people and went for a little walk. I went round all
of the garages looking at cars. As I’d driven to the woods earlier so the car’s
odometer went over ninety thousand miles. Who’s going to buy a car with that
mileage? I will be running this car into the ground, but what will I get when
it is time for a replacement? I have one criterion for the next car (and
only one); the boot opening must be low enough for the dogs to be able to
jump in and out. Sat nav would be nice as would a reversing camera, but they
are optional. A low opening boot is a must.
I
certainly looked at over a hundred cars. As I looked only one salesman
approached me. If I had worn a shirt and tie they would have been all over me.
I said as much to the one salesman who spoke to me; he agreed. The chap didn’t
actually laugh at what I felt was my priority; he said everyone has what is
important to them. But he said that most cars don’t have those low backs any
more. From what I saw today he was right. The Skoda dealer had some… the same
model as my current car. And the Toyota dealer had two (at twice the price
of the Skodas). A trip to Big Motoring World might be in order when the
time comes.
As
I wandered from one car dealership to another so my watch wobbled and told me
that I’d walked four miles going here and there. Four miles just looking at
cars – and I’ve no interest in cars(!)
I
popped into McDonalds for lunch as I was in the area. Back in the day I was
always in McDonalds. Back in the day I was three stones heavier. A decent bit
of McScran set me back nearly four times the price of a Sainsbury’s meal deal.
I
collected my car. It had one minor advisory; the light over the number plate
needs replacing. That can wait till the car next needs a service. And since I’m
a member of the Halfords Motoring Club I got the
MOT for free.
This
Halfords Motoring Club is something of a result. I joined a few weeks ago when
I needed a new car battery. The nice lady said that if I joined there and then
(for fifty quid) they would give me sixty quid off of the price of the
battery. And then they made all sorts of reductions on the service earlier in
the month. What with today’s buckshee MOT, according to my account with them
I’ve saved over a hundred and fifty quid so far. I don’t usually give out
adverts on here, but you’d be daft not to take up Halfords’ offer.
I
came home and spent an hour hacking back more of the overgrowth coming over the
fence from not-so-nice-next-door. I really gave it some welly… part of
me felt guilty, but I’ve asked her to sort it and she’s done nothing. And
bearing in mind I was standing two feet away from the fence as I pruned, it
certainly needed doing.
I
made us a cuppa and then sat down. I was worn out from today’s exertions. “er
indoors TM” boiled up a rather good curry which we
scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Star Trek: Strange New
Worlds”.
I
won’t give any spoilers (maybe just one that I couldn’t resist…) but again
it was a really good episode that the fans who are new to the genre will hate…
And
I’ve been pondering for much of today. Several people I know have (relatively)
recently jacked it all in and emigrated (is that the right word?) to
Scotland. The chap who took over from me at work when I came home last night
told me that he’s working his notice. He’s been offered a job at the labs at
the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow where he will get five
hundred quid a month more than he gets now for doing exactly the same job.
Have
I left it too late to go north of the border?
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