I slept well, but woke to find myself almost hanging
off the edge of the bed. An alliance of dogs had spread out on my side of the
bed all but pushing me out. The obvious answer is to stop them coming on the
bed… but it’s a bit too late for that.
I made toast and had a look at the Internet. There
were some interesting posts from friends in Sussex who’d been to the bonfire
parade in Lewes where a huge effigy of Nigel Farage had been burned. Again.
Some chap was complaining on the local Facebook pages
about how there were no organised firework displays planned for this evening.
In his post he wrote “the people should have gotten together”. Like absolutely
everyone else, this chap felt that someone else should do everything whilst he
did nothing himself. It was somewhat ironic that the chap’s Facebook profile
listed his job as “lazy git”.
And moving away from fireworks there was consternation
about the leader of the opposition who was ranting about why there are so
many immigrant workers in the NHS. Back in the day I was a manager in the NHS.
For many years my department didn't get a single application for any job from
anyone living in the NHS. What does she suggest? Conscription? It’s rather rich
of her to say this bearing in mind her own father was an immigrant doctor. Amazingly Reform
UK’s ex-chairman is much the same, being the son of
immigrant NHS workers. It’s rather amazing that both are now playing the
anti-immigration card. I suppose that, like most politicians, they will say
shit is sugar to pander to their prospective voters.
I took the dogs out. Treacle came running to the front
door at leads-on time which was a result. We went to Orlestone where the rather
strange chap was again just sitting in his car. Perhaps he has mobility issues
but wants to go to the woods? Perhaps I’m being mean? But it just strikes me as
odd that he’s always just sitting there.
We had a rather shorter walk this morning. Time was
against us, and Treacle’s not long out of Dog Hospital; I can remember Fudge
coming out of Dog Hospital and immediately trying to overdo it. Treacle will
take it easy… whether she likes it or not.
The woods were muddy, but not *that* bad
compared to how Orlestone can be. Treacle didn’t need a bath when we got home,
but the littluns had rolled in mud (Morgan) and fox poo (Bailey).
They got scrubbed.
I made us both a cuppa and had a look on-line. Earlier
when I’d Munzed I saw that the Widdlz Workshop I’d bought last night still
wasn’t in my inventory so I’d emailed Munzee HQ. They still hadn’t replied.
I Wordled. Starting with “aches” I got to “dreck”.
“Dreck”? Seriously? I got it as it was the only thing that fitted with
the letters I had and the letters I’d excluded. Is it actually a word? Apparently so.
I set off west-wards to work listening to Harry Potter
audiobook as I went. Having had a frankly disastrous day on Wednesday, today
was far better… right up to five to going home time when we suddenly had a red
alert. Oh well, I needed to see how the new computer would handle a red alert,
and I think it does so better than the old one did.
Coming home was fun – thirty miles of thick fog…
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