There’s no denying that I scoffed far too much of the
Chinese take-away we had last night. It would probably have fed four people,
but that didn’t stop me getting stuck in. The stuff didn’t sit well overnight.
I got up at five o’clock and wondered if some toast might
settle my innards. It didn’t.
I watched another episode of “Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story”
on Netflix which was rather interesting. The practicalities of killing someone
with an axe probably isn’t something that many have considered, but if you are
going to do for someone with an axe you might want to think it through before
going bat-shit-psycho.
As I drove off to work I tried listening to the radio.
Early Sunday morning radio is usually dire, and today's was dire in the
extreme. I caught the end of some utter drivel about the religious
convictions of some amateur poets, and this was followed by a potted
biography of some farmer. After ten minutes I gave up and listened to more
"All Quiet on the Western Front" in which our hero had ended
up in a rather dire field hospital, got better, and got shot right at the end
of the war. I’ve got to the end of that audiobook now. I probably won’t listen
to it again. The story is depressing enough, and it was read in the most
miserable tone of voice. I’m now on “Day of the Triffids” which (so
far) is much better.
I got to work. Back in the day I would have started a
weekend early shift with the cooked breakfast. Back in the day I was three
stones heavier.
I sent the night shift home and made a start on the
day's work. When I first started this job Sunday was for dire emergencies
and in-patients only. Today things are different.
I did my bit; today contending with the E and the Kidd
blood groups and was glad when home time came.
I came home to an empty house. Following an epic
battle with the Hoover “er indoors TM” had
claimed a victory and had taken the dogs for a walk. However every epic battle
has a loser, and the Hoover has gone the way of the hero of "All
Quiet on the Western Front".
I rather thought that washing the innards of the
Hoover was a mistake, but nil desperandum (as the dead Romans say).
The new Hoover arrives is a few days’ time.
I’m just glad it wasn’t me that poggered it.
I put a load of washing in to scrub, then fell asleep
on the sofa underneath a pile of dogs. “er indoors TM” boiled
up dinner which we scoffed whilst watching more “Young Sheldon”.
Today has been dull, and I’m feeling rather worn out…
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