21 March 2013 (Thursday) - Tangled

I've come to the conclusion that my insomnia is in some way connected to the need to get up promptly the next morning. So with nothing pressing planned for today, why was I awake before 3am?

Over brekkie I saw a trailer for the new Star Trek film. It looks absolutely dreadful. I do hope I'm wrong. I also saw that the article I submitted for publication yesterday has been accepted. I'm not sure the title is geographically spot on (as Rye is in Sussex), but other than that I'm quite pleased with how it's been turned out.

With my Ham Street Lover indisposed (best not to ask) I was at something of a loose end today. So to begin with I thought I'd do some exploring. A few months ago I found a way to get from South Willesborough to Park Farm going under the bypass. So far I'd only ever walked along as far as a footbridge and then turned off. Today me and Fudge followed the path all the way to the end where it joins a new housing estate. A route which is crying out for a series of geocaches...

Whilst we walked I let Furry Face off the lead. He was fine until he found some fox poo, and whilst rolling in it he got himself tangled in an errant carrier bag. I did laugh. Silly pup.

It was odd that he was ensnared by a Morrisons bag when the nearest branch of Morrisons is fifteen miles away.

We were out walking for a couple of hours. Once home I hosed the fox poo off of the dog and made a start in the garden. Normally I make a point of refusing to do anything in the garden before Easter, but this year I felt I couldn't leave it any longer. I scooped up all the dog poo and flushed it down the chodbin. In several flushes. I've been scurrying dog dung from the garden regularly these last few months and was amazed at how much I'd missed. I then mowed the lawn as it was getting rather long. Just a quick scalping to be getting on with - I'll make it look prettier next time.

Whilst I was mowing Fudge disgraced himself. He was not content with woofing at next door's dogs who were peering over the fence. He started hurling himself at the fence, and actually broke it. I went mental at him - and I could tell he'd understood that he'd been bad. He spent the next hour being incredibly clingy and with his ears right back he looked really sheepish and didn't react to next door's dogs at all fir the rest of the day.

I'm left wondering if he hurls himself at the fence every time when I think he's just outside having a download. Maybe he needs to be supervised when in the garden, or maybe we need to fence off the yard so he can't get further down?

With the gardening done I came in and had a cuppa. And found I had another problem. It would seem that my chodbin wasn't up to the excessive amount of Fudge's fudge I'd attempted to flush and I'd inadvertently blocked it. It was as well I had time on my hands, and I wasted five minutes clearing the toilet. It works now - thank heavens.

And seeing how today was a day's holiday I did ironing.. With ironing done I washed up and hoovered and sorted my smalls.

I must love it...

20 March 2013 (Wednesday) - New Wellies

I’d been expecting the most recent fruit of my loin today. She showed up eventually, and we set off walking the pups. As we do. Today we thought we’d try a different route. We usually go through the park, and we find ourselves making polite conversation with the nice Irish chap, trying not to fight with Mr Angry, and trying not to poke fun at "Orange Head and her Little Stocky Chum." (Patent Pending).

Instead we walked up past the station, along the back roads onto Hythe Road, and then totally mistaking right for left went a mile in the wrong direction. Oh how we laughed when we found the motorway rather than Arden Drive.

Whilst we were walking along the paths by the Stour Centre we met up with a gaggle of retired people coming the other way. One of whom waved at me, warmly greeted me, and asked after me. She clearly knew who I was, and knew all about me. I wonder who she was.

Eventually we made our way home, and leaving "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" to supervise the hounds I popped round to B&Q. My wellies had developed a major leak, and the kitchen light had gone squafty. B&Q had replacement wellies, but didn’t have fluorescent light tubes in the right size. In fact the nice man was under the impression that they don’t make light tubes that thick any more. So I thought I’d try Wickes – the old tube had their name on the side so I’d clearly got it from there. I asked the woman behind the counter if they had the tubes I was after. She clearly couldn’t care less. Fortunately a passing builder knew which tube I needed. I bought the tube on his advice; it would have been rude not to have done so. But I would be very loathe to shop in Wickes again after the attitude I received today.

It was with a sense of relief that I got the new tube into place and found it worked. Feeling I should have a break and a cuppa I was amazed to find it was mid-day, so I made myself a sarnie, and cracked on with some more writing – a review of the geocaching to be had on the Kent-Sussex border. I wonder if this article will be accepted. I hope so - it took long enough to write.

Meanwhile in another plane of reality there has been a budget. The Chancellor of the Exchequer has said he won’t put up fuel prices in September. Whilst I’m pleased about that, realistically he needs to reduce the prices quite substantially. He’s also reduced the price of a pint of beer by a penny. That’s good of him. But all the time I can make the stuff for less than a tenth of the price of what it costs in the pubs, I don’t think he’s winning my vote any day soon.

19 March 2013 (Tuesday) - Stuff

Over breakfast I watched an episode of Babylon 5. It was the episode I'd put on twice last night; I'd tried watching it only to fall asleep. And when I woke to see the end credits rolling I then put it on again only to fall asleep again. I hate that - I kept nodding off in front of the telly when I wanted to be awake, and was then wide awake at 2.45am this morning.

I finally got the episode watched on the third attempt this morning. It would have been nice to have had Furry Face for company over brekkie today, but he had sneaked upstairs (when he thought I wasn't watching) to sleep at the foot of the bed, and I didn't have the heart to fetch him back.

As I drove to work the radio was all a-buzz with the latest scandal about the new Pope. The last Pope was allegedly a Nazi sympathiser. This one apparently had ties with the military Junta which ruled Argentina in years gone by. I have no idea whether he really had any such connection or not; after all, this was all half a lifetime ago. I suspect it is all a ruse to sell more newspapers.

Talking of which I hear that several of the country's leading newspapers have decided to have nothing to do with the Government's recently set-up watchdog. They aren't keen about its remit to monitor exactly what they are spouting.

I would have thought that such a legally-established watchdog would have power over the press, and that the various tabloids wouldn't be able to opt in or out as the mood took them, but what do I know? Apparently legal advice is being taken, and there is a school of thought that the recently passed legislation is applicable to bloggers like "Yours Truly" but not to the national press.

Meanwhile Ken Barlow (out of "Coronation Street") would seem to have gone completely mad. He's said in an interview with New Zealand News that anyone who's been molested by a celebrity paedophile has got all that they deserved because of their sins in a previous life.

An interesting point of view. It amazes me that in an open and free society we are supposed to respect the rights of nut-cases to spout such patent nonsense.

To work where we had a visitor. Someone with whom I used to work some thirty years ago. It was good to catch up and reminisce about old times. And then having done my bit at work my piss boiled as I listened to the radio on the way home.

There have been failings in various hospitals across the country. Sometimes quite serious. Occasionally potentially fatal. But hospitals are run by human beings. We fail from time to time. It's what we do. No one working in a hospital environment ever fails deliberately. And does it really help anyone by publicly pillorying medical professionals in the press when they have made a mistake? The realisation of having made such a mistake is horror enough without hounding these people in the tabloid press.

Could you imagine how you might feel having made an honest mistake which might have killed someone; and then having lived with the guilt of such a mistake for over a year before finally finding yourself in the dock being stared at by tabloid journalists who are treating your trial as some form of cheap entertainment?

I enjoyed my curly-wurly as I drove home. It would have been good to have gone to the Tuesday gathering, but I wouldn't have got there until nearly 9pm; it's not fair to expect everyone to wait for me. Instead I went straight home and took Furry Face round the block. He likes that, and he seems to be far more friendly with the Shetland ponies that live round the corner than he ever used to be. Perhaps he's mellowing with age...

18 March 2013 (Monday) - Stuff

Most Sundays I go on quite a serious walk - walking for several hours and many miles. Yesterday's walk was rather modest in comparison with what I am used to. So why on Earth did I feel so physically drained this morning?

As I scoffed brekkie "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" arrived, shrieking about "Hedge Suits" and complaining that the shop in her street had been charging her through the arse. It's another world....

We took the dogs out for a walk. Through the park and on to Singleton lake. I had asked the most recent fruit of my loin to come on a geocaching mission, and to my amazement she had agreed. But the area I was planning to search in was really wet and waterlogged, so instead we carried on up to the environment centre and walked across there. As we came in through the back of Singleton we saw an idiot walking his dog. From a distance of fifty yards he shouted that his dog was dangerous and that we were not to follow him. So we changed our direction. On seeing how we were now heading off at right-angles this twit ran with his dog to be in our way and again shouted to warn us off. So, obligingly, we again changed our route only to have this fool again double back on himself and shout at us again. This time I made a point of not answering him, but instead I loudly told the world at large that if any wild dog came near me and mine I would hoof it up the khyber. Surprisingly (or not) this idiot then beat a hasty retreat.

The rest of our walk home was relatively uneventful. Once home we popped round to see a friend who’d mentioned that she had a poker table she didn’t want. I thought it would be a shame for the thing not to be appreciated, so I’d offered it a good home. "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" and I popped round, fussed the cats, and came home with it. It’s a good table and there are quite a few poker chips with it. A shame Furry Face felt the need to eat some of it, but such is life.

After a quick bit of lunch the Rear Admiral visited. He seemed singularly unimpressed with the poker set. Which was a shame as I had a vague plan of installing the set at the Admiralty. Still, never mind. Instead I set about some laundry. At the weekend I found an old coat that my beloved had forgotten about. She’d asked me to wash it for her as it had collected quite a lot of dust during its months of neglect. Before washing it I emptied the pockets. Amongst the rubbish and clutter in those pockets I found two twenty pound notes. I don’t usually check pocket when I’m doing the washing. I shall from now on.

With "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" then going off on a mission I took Fudge out on another walk. I’d had a note from the postman to say a parcel was awaiting collection so I went to get it. Furry Face didn’t seem overly keen to go on another walk, and he merely plodded along by my side as we went; not pulling at all. That is quite unlike him. I hope he’s not sickening for something.

With parcel collected I sat down to do some more writing. On Friday I wrote an article about geocaching in Ashford which was received well. I’ve started working on another article about caching elsewhere in the county. Let’s hope that this one will go down as well.

And as "er indoors ^TM" set off bowling I settled down with a very sleepy dog and I watched more Babylon 5 DVDs. It was a good way to spend the evening...

17 March 2013 (Sunday) - Oxney

Rather a grotty night's sleep what with needing to pop top the loo with annoying regularity. And just as my guts finally settled, "er indoors ^TM" came home at 4am. I eventually nodded off to find that Furry Face had sneaked up from his bed in the kitchen and was on my chest; fast asleep and snoring.

So I gave up trying to sleep and was up and about before 8am. The original plan for the day would have had us up and about on an early start tackling some rather adventurous geocaches. But illness and hangovers had put paid to that idea. So whilst "er indoors ^TM" slept I took Fudge round the block. He was raring to go even if no one else was.

Eventually my beloved emerged from its pit, and together with those who weren't feeling too ill we set off on an afternoon spent relatively locally. We looked for a couple of geocaches in Tenterden, and then had a stroll round some woods on the Isle of Oxney. There were four geocaches in those woods - including a puzzle cache with a real jigsaw puzzle and a letterbox hybrid. Both dogs got absolutely filthy, but both dogs seemed happy so the afternoon had been well spent.

And so home. With "er indoors ^TM" off bowling I sat down with Fudge and put my Babylon 5 DVDs on the telly and promptly fell asleep...

16 March 2013 (Saturday) - Hic!

I do not play poker in the traditional sense. I don't think many professional poker players have a victory dance for when they win a hand. Neither do they have trouble finding space for the cards on the table because of all the food that is in the way. There is no denying that I don't so much "play cards" as "have a feast whilst hoping for a flush". I don't think the Jaffa Cakes sat well with the lime & chocolate sweeties. The marshmallows together with the kettle crisps was (in retrospect) not a good idea. And heaven only knows what I was thinking of by washing the whole lot down with wasabi flavoured peanuts. Consequently my innards were something of a disaster zone this morning.

Talking of disaster zones I spent half an hour attacking the kitchen this morning. "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" made a wonderful bowl of stew last night. She also made quite a bit of carnage whilst she was at it. When we went out last night we left some of the stew in the pan for "er indoors ^TM" who then burned the stew into the pan. So I had my work cut out for me this morning - once I could actually see what I was doing. The starter on the kitchen light had gone west.

Following the revelation that "My Boy ^TM" has started tweeting I dusted off my Twitter account. I can't say I'm at all impressed with Twitter, but I can see what he's up to.

And then we got on with the business of the day. The Bat called, and we made our way to the station where we met up with Steve. We then got a group saver to Folkestone (costing £3.50 each!), and having found the Rear Admiral, we made our way to somewhere where we could have a fry-up.

Once fed we fancied a pint before going on to the main business of the day. With the Pullman not yet open we had a pint in the British Lion. A pint of ale and a pint of raspberry cider. And then a pint in the Guildhall over a game of pool.

Suitably refreshed we braved the monsoon and made our way down to the Leas lift for the beer festival. It would have been nice to have been able to have sat outside and to have had some space. But that wasn't going to happen, so we huddled in with the normal people. There was a dodgy five minutes when the antique door of the building fell off, and the owners weren't happy when I pressed a bell labelled "Do Not Press" (what did they expect?) The beer was good, and we posed for photos; our own and those of various official photographers, before deciding that we'd had an elegant sufficiency. Burp!

We did make notes of the ales as we went, but once home the notes didn't seem to make much sense; comments such as "Oh hello my little love puppy" and "Oh my!" probably made a lot of sense at the time. Still, if you know where to look there are photos of the event on-line.

And so on to the Chambers bar for a crafty half before finding a kebab on the way to the station for the train home. With er indoors ^TM" off on a mission for the evening I dozed in front of the telly for the evening. I've not done a beer festival for some time. I quite miss them...

15 March 2013 (Friday) - Cards

Yesterday I mentioned that Furry Face had got himself wedged into a bramble bush. Last night whilst stroking him he yelped and jumped up for no apparent reason. This morning we pulled a thorn out of his neck. I say "thorn" - "dagger" would be a more appropriate description of what was embedded in his skin.

Still, he has only himself to blame. If he will chase pheasants...

"Daddies Little Angel ^TM" arrived with Sid and once both dogs were fed we took them on a quick trip round the block. Through Stanhope to the environment centre and home via Singleton and Viccie Park. It took us a couple of hours, and the dogs seemed to like it. I braved Fudge off of the lead, and this time (unlike yesterday) he was as good as gold. Mind you it was still rather damp underfoot and once home both dogs got a shower.

As the dogs slept off their exertions me and "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" went to Tesco for various requisites. She then set off on a mission, and I sat down to write. I like writing, and the opportunity had arisen to do some. I like writing; I've found the occasional geocache. I've offered my services to The Geocache Tourist blog, and they seemed happy with what I spent the afternoon writing.

Let's hope this is the beginning of a happy association.

"Daddies Little Angel ^TM" then came home and turned the shopping we'd bought earlier into stew for tea. Very tasty! And with the arrival of the Rear Admiral, Martin and the first fruit of my loin we set off to Queen Street. Ten of us sat down for a game of cards. I haven't played poker for absolutely ages. I really should play more often. Even if I am always the first one to be knocked out...