I slept quite well really, not waking until nearly
seven o’clock. I got up and (as it was Saturday) I told the Alexa to
play Radio Ashford. It played Magic Radio. I told it to stop, and we tried
again. The Alexa wasn’t having any of it. Eventually after a bit of an argument
it did what it was told. It wasn’t that long ago when a voice-controlled
machine was firmly in the realms of science-fiction. Now we whinge when the
things don’t work perfectly.
As I scoffed my toast I downloaded bank statements and
had my monthly look at the accounts. Again I could be a lot worse off, but I’m
nowhere near as rich as I’d like to be. But then, is anyone?
I then had a little look at the Internet as I do. It
was the same as it ever is really. As I rummaged through the drivel on-line so
Steve was on the radio. The “Guess the Lyrics” competition. Today it was
“Thought I could have my cake and eat it too”. I had no idea. It was “Working My Way Back To You” by the Four
Seasons. I also had no idea that Shakin’ Stevens was Welsh until Steve told us.
One lives and learns.
As Steve was playing “Crazy Horses” by the
Osmonds I Munzed, and Wordled from “crazy” to “holey” in five
goes, then got ready for Dog Club. I found myself thinking back to over fifty
years ago when I was in the Osmonds fan club. In retrospect that was money down
the drain, wasn’t it?
Dog Club was its usual mayhem. In the week I’d bought
a bag of sprats for the dogs as some of them have allergies to beef and cheese.
The sprats were rather popular, but there were a couple of pups that didn’t
seem to like them.
We came home via the corner shop where I got a pain au
chocolat and an almond croissant. As we scoffed them Steve was coming to the
end of the Mystery Year competition. I knew that the various songs and
historical events were from the mid-seventies, but which year?. Did Steve
realise I was struggling? He then announced that Jon Pertwee left Doctor Who in
that year, and played “Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth” by Sparks. That
clinched it. 1974.
I set off to work. I listened to Radio Ashford as
far as I could... which wasn't fat up the M20 this morning. I turned over to
Sir Stephen Fry reading the first Harry Potter book. Having read the thing
myself many times it has to be said that Sir Stephen reads much slower than I
do.
I got to work and did my bit. With a Met Office formal
warning of severe weather I didn't (really) mind going in to work even
if this was the fifteenth of the last nineteen weekends when I've been at work.
Having said that, when I left home this same Met Office was predicting a
ninety-five per cent chance of heavy rain and it wasn't raining. As I
went up the motorway there was a bit of drizzle, but not much really. As
I worked I kept a weather eye (quite literally) out of the window. I
suppose the rain would have put me off taking the dogs to the woods, but was it
bad enough to warrant a formal weather warning?
When I started working my watch told me I'd already
walked three thousand two hundred steps today. When the night shift came in I
was up to nine thousand nine hundred and ten steps. Bearing in mind that from
many walks round Kings Wood I average two thousand two hundred steps per mile,
I walked a shade over three miles just going round the laboratory today.
I’ve worked four days this week. I’m worn out.
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