7 October 2013 (Monday) - In The River

I slept in till gone7am this morning. I was still feeling grim. Mind you nowhere near as grim as er indoors ^TM" has turned. She’s not well at all. I suggested she should phone in to work to say she was sick, but she went in to work regardless.

I put the collar and lead onto my little dog and we went for a small walk down to Park Farm, back up to the Ashford Orbital park and home again. It was really foggy as we started, but the day brightened as we went. Once in Park Farm we stopped off near the top for the day’s geocache. It would have been daft not to. “Gunners” is one I went for a week or so ago and couldn’t find. Over the weekend I read that others had gone for it and failed to find it. Today I saw the thing right away. It was obvious. Truly obvious. I saw it from fifty yards away. I say “fifty yards” because I measured the distance.

On the way home my dog did his signature move of rolling in fox poo. I wasn’t cross. It wasn’t that long ago that he was too ill to go for a walk, and I’m so pleased that he is well enough to roll in the dung. My piss did boil as we came to the river by Asda. Someone had thrown a sofa into the river. Why? In order to throw a sofa into the river at that point someone would have had to carry it for several hundred yards. In fact lugging the sofa would have had to have been a team effort. Surely there would have been easier and more environmentally-friendly places to throw a sofa?

And so home. As I got within yards of home I saw a chap struggling to control his dog as he walked down the path toward me. On seeing me the fellow started shouting orders at me directing me away from him and his dog. The dog didn’t seem to be aggressive in any way; just seeming to want to pull its owner about. The chap loudly announced that he was going to get out of the way, and that I should cross the road and pass them on the other side of the road. He got out of the way by going into my front garden and standing in the middle of it; shouting orders at me as he did so.

I (and my dog and his dog) ignored him completely as I walked up my front path, unlocked the door and went in.

Over a spot of lunch I watched the last instalment of Brideshead Revisited. I always thought it was a shame that Charles never married Julia. Was he really gay? I never thought so. And did he really get religion in the end? The commentaries on the book think so.

After lunch I spent a little time on my next presentation to the astro club. At the end of the month I shall be ranting about what a load of rubbish comets are. I tried to upload to my blog archive, but the software was having a sulk. I shall try again later. And I had a look at the household accounts. I wish I hadn’t. I then intended to spend a few minutes on Wherigo software. I actually spent a few hours. ANd with er indoors ^TM" off bowling I continued my "Jeremy Irons on the telly" theme by watching him in the film of "Lolita". A good film; even if it was about an hour too long...

6 October 2013 (Sunday) - R.E.

I woke feeling rough,and carried on feeling rough all day. Was it the excesses of yesterday or the aftermath of that flu jab? hangovers rarely last more than an hour for me. I am not going to be pressured into having any more flu jabs.

I brekkied whilst watching an episode of "Early Doors" - the third episode I've seen. I love it. And then I checked the Internet. Little had happened overnight. It rarely does.

Leaving er indoors ^TM" and "Furry Face ^TM" in their pits I set off to work. So as the day wouldn't be all work and no play I went via Little Burton Farm to try for a geocache. Two weeks ago I'd tried for this very one. The thing was clearly not there then. And it wasn't just me being useless - other experienced cachers hadn't found it either.

I'd since looked at the on-line logs for that cache and seen that someone had found it recently; their first and only find. So this morning on the way to work I thought I would have another try. The cache was obvious, and on opening it up I could see the signatures of people who had found it over the last couple of months.

It really hadn't been there two weeks ago, but here was evidence that this was the original and not a replacement. Had this newbie taken it home to sign the log and to show his friends? What was going on here? I suspect I shall never know.

As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about the (supposedly) shocking news from OFSTED that over half the schools in the country are failing to deliver Religious Education as a subject.

Apparently the problem is that no one, least of all the R.E. teachers, really knows what is expected from R.E. lessons. Are they to be the history of the world's religions? An academic study of the tenets of the world's religions? Perhaps to deliver a sense of morality? Or even (just possibly) crackpot nonsense? Certainly I had all four when I was at school. Mr Groves would have us draw pictures of selected scenes from the Old Testament. Mr Storey would lead all sorts of discussions. And once a week we would sit through the ranting of an angry old vicar. This chap would aggressively spout the most ridiculous and farcical propositions as though they were logically valid arguments, and would regularly reduce common sense to gibberish.

There was a head teacher interviewed on the radio who gave the impression that she was sick of these stunning revelations. Apparently she is already contending with allegations that her school does not have enough focus on teaching music, drama, hockey, flower arranging and morris dancing. She maintained that there was only so much time in the day and that schools should focus on teaching kids to read and write and do sums rather than to waste everyone's time on fringe nonsense such as half-baked religion. Personally I think she might have had a point.

The radio show then wheeled on someone from the national committee for religion in schools whose committee is due (in a few weeks) to give the government a formal report on what an R.E. syllabus should contain. This chap clearly had no idea what R.E. was, should be, or could be about. But he spouted platitudes with the best of them.

There could be so much more to religion than spouting platitudes.

Meanwhile the news also told of Britain's first free Muslim school which has been shut down amid all manner of allegations.

]Apparently the teachers are being forced to wear hijab; female students told to sit at the back of classrooms so the boys can see what's going on better...

Here's an idea. Why not let school be about teaching academic lessons whilst imparting moral guidance from a reasoned and reasonable ethical standpoint, and leave the supposed pronouncements from invisible imaginary friends to everyone's spare time.

And so to work. I did my bit, but felt progressively more grotty as the day went on. There's no denying I was glad when it was time to call it a day. Were it not a Sunday I might have been inclined to have phoned in sick.

5 October 2013 (Saturday) - London

I woke at 2.30am, and bearing in mind the relative success I had the other night I got up and had a shave. I then pootled for a bit and went back to bed and slepth through until I was woken by my alarm. I can't remember the last time I was woken by an alarm. I would like to think that this is a success of doing something in the night and going back to bed. However I suspect that this is just related to by being under the weather with this flu jab.

We got up, and it wasn't long before the doorbell rang. The Folkestonians had arrived and we made our way to the railway station where we met up with the rest of our party. Eight of us set off to London on the Javelin. The plans for the day were rather fluid, and fluid was the watchword of the day. We started off at the Natural History Museum in the dinosaur galleries which suited me fine. This fitted in very well with the course I am currently doing about dinosaurs. We then went into the gardens to do the Earthcache, and then thought we might have a pint of lunch.

What a good idea that was(!) A pint of lunch. We asked the nice lady on the museum door where the nearest pub was. She said it was just up the road. So we went up the road. And krpt going. We found a pub just over a mile and a half up the road.

We took the tube back to the museums. We came the scenic way having taken the wrong train and having ended up in Earls Court,

In the afternoon we went round the science museum. I say "museum"; many of the exhibits were things I once owned. We also had fun playing with a futuristic toilet game. And then leaving some of our party we went on to follow others of our party. We made our way to Leicester Square's Brewmaster pub for a couple of pints before walking over the road to the Bear and Staff for a couple more pints. Whilst here we played "Spot the Lesbian" (there were several) and we cheered the dancing drunkards until the rest of our party arrived.

We then made our way into Leicester Square for dinner at Ed's Diner (very tasty) and having scoffed some really good scoff we perused the saucier shops.before sleeping all the way home.

A day out in London doesn't come cheap, but it's always a good day. Must do it again...

4 October 2013 (Friday) - Wedding Anniversary

It's no secret that I don't often sleep well. Last night was particularly bad. I got up and was watching DVDs at silly o'clock. I felt rather grim this morning as well. I wonder if it's all in the mind or whether it really is the after-effects of yesterday's flu jab that I never actually wanted.

If I had been due in at work today I would probably have phoned in sick. I spent much of the day feeling rather light headed and generally "bleagh". In the past I have always declined flu jabs on the grounds that people who have them are ill having had the injection. I have confirmed my prejudice against the things.

The morning's haul of emails brought something which boiled my piss somewhat. The Federation of Astronomical Societies (of which our club is a member) have formally recommended that we (and all astro clubs) should have a formal child protection policy. They sent through a template document which was eighteen pages long. Eighteen ! - I counted them.

On the one hand I suppose they are right. On the other hand it speaks volumes about the sad state of our society that they are right. But why do we actually need such a policy? To protect children at the club? Hardly. All children that come along (and there are quite a few) come along under the care and supervision of their parents. We need the policy as a legal box-ticking excercise to protect the committee members against unscrupulous opportunistic types who may see a chance to make easy money by making baseless allegations against the innocent for financial gain.

So I have written a draft child protection policy: "All parents must watch their children like a good parent would.". I think that covers all eventualities.

er indoors ^TM" was still snoring as "Furry Face ^TM" was getting more and more restless, so as she slept I put the lead onto him and (despite the rain) we went for a walk to the sports centre. I bet none of my loyal readers could guess what had sprung up in that general vicinity overnight. We soon found the new cache. Whilst there we met another cacher and had a good chat about the special log inside that cache.

With the rain easing off we came home again hoping that er indoors ^TM" would now be up and about. She wasn't so I chivied her from her pit with a cup of tea and a wet dog.

We got ready and drove down to Ham Street where we walked a rather scenic circular walk of five miles (and nineteen geocaches). The Ham Street Hamble is a walk I have been intending to do for some time; mainly because I had been hassling the C.O. to put that series out for months. It was a really good walk. Along the canal, through the woods. We walked for three hours and then (having redeployed my letterbox hybrid) came home again.

We changed, then went to the Smarden Bell for dinner. The Smarden Bell is somewhere I haven't been for ages. It was once the best pub for miles around. The last time I went there was about five years ago and it had gone downhill. This evening we were very impressed with the place. Good food without waiting for too long. It wasn't cheap, but as a treat I would certainly go back again.

It was only a shame I was feeling rough...

3 October 2013 (Thursday) - National Poetry Day

I had an early night last night. I woke feeling refreshed and raring to go. I had almost decided that early nights would be the way forward for me and then I noticed the clock. 2.30am! I lay awake listening to the snoring and farting of my dog (who had again sneaked upstairs) for an hour or so before I gave up on sleep and got up.

I was again watching "Brideshead Revisited" at 5am. Charles was in a gay bar; the saucy devil. I don't think he intended to be in one - it just sort of happened, as so often it does in life.

I then checked my emails. Overnight I had received the thumbs-down on my letterbox hybrid. But not disheartened I resolved to try again; this time harder. This failure is my own fault really. I put the thing too close to an exisiting cache. I should have checked at the time when I shoved it into the undergrowth; after all it would only have taken one click of the appropriate app. But I didn't click.

I could have put things right before work this morning but there wasn't really enough time. Fortunately I had had the all-clear on the Wherigo I had put out, so yesterday hadn't been completely wasted. In fact I was very pleased to find that someone had actually gone out and done my Wherigo this morning, enjoyed it immensely and had found the actual cache shortly after 11am. I was particularly happy about that as it means that all the programming and coding I did on the software involved has actually worked. While all was fine on my field trials I couldn't help but wonder how the thing would fare when used properly.

To work. As I drove I sulked about the weather. Yesterday morning had seen torrential rain when I was hoping to walk my dog. Today was glorious. However the pundits were forecasting storms so I spent much of the day looking out of the window hoping for such a storm. Interestingly the BBC's weather web site made mo mention on any storms. Again BBC radio didn't get it's weather forecast from the BBC web site.

Whilst at work we spoke little (if any) French today. French wasn't a language we could say; because it was National Poetry Day. And so to celebrate that time; today we had to talk in rhyme.

I tried to keep it up, but many of my colleagues had given up by 9.30am; which was a shame. Or was probably for the best, depending on your personal perspective and/or poetic bent.

I had my flu injection today. In the past I have alway turned down flu jabs because I have always maintained that people who don't have the jab don't get flu whilst those who have the injection get ill from having had it. But I was coaxed, cajoled and generally harrassed into having the injection. It didn't hurt, and I suppose it must be a good thing really. Time will tell - it always does.

After work we had the meeting of the astro club committee. Plans for the future are looking good, and possibly feature a rather impressive mount. Woof!

As I came home I drove through a thunderstorm. Rather impressive...

2 October 2013 (Wednesday) - New Hides, Dinosaurs, Laundry

I slept well, surprisingly, and woke just before 7am to the sound of torrential rain against the bedroon window. There's nothing like a good downpour to stuff up any plans that may have been made. I scoffed brekkie and then checked the weather forecast. The rain outside had cleaerd up, and with a predicted window of about four hours until the rain would come back I thought I'd take "Furry Face ^TM" for a walk.

We went out through Viccie Park and Singleton Lake to Great Chart. I hid two geocaches in the area; the Wherigo I'd been working on for two days, and a letterbox hybrid. Both of which are particularly obscure forms of small plastic boxes. No one else in Ashford has hidden these. You might think that cachers would be interested in these for the novelty value. We shall see.

Normally the chap who gives caches the thumbs up or thumbs down is very quick in doing so. He's taking his time over these; I suppose I get so used to the chap's efficiency that I overlook the fact that his is a volunteer and he too has a life of his own to lead.

We came home from our walk just before mid day. My little dog had been really well behaved whilst out, and once home he yummed up the food I put down for him. He then made himself comfortable on the sofa and snored for much of the afternoon.

I had planned to clear rubbish from the garden and to mow the lawn but not only was everything still wet from the earlier downpour, but it had started raining again. So I resigned myself to cracking on with the ironing. there was lots of it. As I ironed I watched more episodes of "Brideshead Revisited". Sebastian had gone out on the sauce somewhere in the middle east whist Charles and Julia were having it away on an ocean liner in the Atlantic.

Also whilst I ironed next door clanged on their piano. Whilst not totally abysmal, the standard of their piano-ing leaves a lot to be desired. And despite over two hours of clanging every day for many years they make absolutely no improvement in their musical ability whatsoever.

With ironing done, despite their clanging I dozed off in front of the telly until er indoors ^TM" came home for tea. And then went out again. Apparently there was a meeting of candlemongers this evening.

Finding myself at a loose end I had half a plan to go down to Folkestone to investigate this pub of which the Rear Admiral had been singing praises recently, but judging by his Facebook updates he seemed to be busy in London. So instead I sorted out more laundry and did this week's installment of my dinosaur course whilst my dog slept on my chest alternately snoring and farting...

Did I ever mention that I never wanted a dog...?

1 October 2013 (Tuesday) - Mr Samgrass

I was up with the lark as usual this morning and was watching the third episode of "Brideshead Revisited" well before 6am. Sebastian has turned to drink despite the machinations of Mr Samgrass. I have seen these episodes so many times and still I love them as I love all period dramas.

I set off to work, but didn't stop off for any geocaches on my way today. Two months ago I thought I'd try for the "cache a day for a month" challenge in August. I had serious doubts as to whether or not I would be able to keep a finding streak going for such a long period of time as a month. But having done the month I thought I'd keep on going. I've done two months, and that is enough. There aren't many more caches to be done. Or, to be more precise, there aren't more caches to be done that don't require me going a long way out of my way to get them. Being a mean sort of person I keep track of my expenditure; I have spent forty quid more on petrol that usual for these last two months. I can't justify the expense. Not when I am still recovering from the vet's bill.

This morning over brekkie I'd read about some young boy racers who had been vooming round the ring road (as they do) and had had a rather serious crash near Somerset Road. As I tried to drive past there at 6.30am this morning the road was still closed.

According to the local news it seems rather serious - someone died. Mind you it can't really be a surprise - the ring road has been a race track for years. Perhaps now the police might do something about it.

As I drove I listened to the radio. My piss boiled when there was talk of the failure to balance the books in the American budget. People who work in the American public sector have this morning been sent home from work unpaid, and are facing uncertainty as to whether or not they will have a job.

The pundits on the radio described this state of affairs as "American fun and games". Hardly fun and certainly not a game for anyone faced with no income and no likelihood of one.

I stopped off in Wincheap for petrol. The young lady at the till in the filling station seemed particularly morose. And then it was on to work ou il y a un tatou dans l'arbre. Il se tombe sure la tete de l'oiseau. L'oiseau est aussie demente com pantalons maintenent.

As I remarked to my colleague who is learning so much French from me, when he goes on his holiday to France, as long as he goes up a tree he will do fine.

Being Tuesday the clans gathered. Today in Queen Street where I slept through an episode of Merlin. A shame – I quite like that show…