7 April 2014 (Monday) - Oximeter

I slept well last night, but after the seventeen mile walk that's hardly surprising. I got up to find my little dog still crashed out in his basket. Normally he would move to a sofa or a bed (because he's cheeky like that), but not last night. As I had my toast he dragged himself over for the crusts, then dragged himself back to his basket.

Over brekkie I watched the second episode of "Extras". I had intended to be watching "Game of Thrones", but my SkyPlus box won't have it. I really must take up that offer of a lend of a Blu-Ray boxed set.

Talking of which there was an article about the success of "Game of Thrones" on the morning's radio show. It's been so popular, and its creator was really pleased about how it is the first adult fantasy show to have actually achieved mass popularity.

I just want to see what all the fuss is about.

There was also talk about the missing aeroplane MH370; it would seem that the plane has been located about a mile or so under the ocean. There are moves afoot to get to the thing's black box to find out why it went missing in the first place.

Whilst I do feel for the relatives of the missing; there does seem to have been a lot of effort expended to find the thing. Part of me can't help but wonder who pays the bill.

This morning I had my inaugural visit to the sleep clinic. Oh dear. The plan was to kit me out with a gadget which will measure heart rate and oxygen levels while I sleep tonight. In a complete disregard for patient confidentiality I was lumped in with various other assorted insomniacs to be instructed on the use of the oximeter.

That was fun; one chap flatly refused to sit down during the instruction, and was constantly in the way. And another was using the session as a chance to vent his anger, frustration and hatred at the entire NHS. I did feel sorry for the poor lady who was trying to demonstrate the device; and I said so. That got the standing one to sit down, but the one with the grievances wouldn't stop moaning. He seemed to delight in finding fault at every opportunity; having been asked to return the device in two days time he loudly boasted how unreasonable he thought it was to ask him to try to find the very clinic to which he had reported only fifteen minutes previously. At this point the nice lady had had enough and told him not to bother and to go home. Even that didn't shut him up.

I tried a sax practice at lunch time; after playing the five tunes I can do (yes; five!) I had a go at "When the Saints go Marching In". Unfortunately I had to give up; that tune involves playing a B flat, and I can't do those (yet). I was getting rather Egyptian when the rain started. I had to give up twenty minutes earlier than usual, much to the delight of the scary-looking woman who had been eating her lunch in her car; glaring at me and wincing every time I played the wrong note (she'd winced rather a lot)

The rest of the day was rather dull. I’m off to bed in a minute. Wearing my oximeter. “Furry Face ^TM “ has chewed it several times; he seems to like the taste…

6 April 2014 (Sunday) - Parish Peregrination

Yet another restless night. I'm getting so fed up with this. Especially at the weekends when I find myself sitting watching rubbish on the telly just to waste the time until "er indoors ^TM" gets up. The trouble is that by the time she gets up (at a sensible sort of time) I am bored senseless and itching to go do something.

This morning I had been intending to kill time by starting watching "Game of Thrones". On my newly-upgraded SkyPlus box I saw I could download the first three seasons. Or so I thought. When I tried to do so it told me to upgrade my subscription. I'm not doing that; I pay quite enough already So I downloaded and watched "Extras" instead. Starring Ricky Gervais it's quite entertaining. I'll have to see if I can borrow "Game of Thrones" on DVD.

Also whilst killing time I had a look-see at my tent poles. Having had one break at last August's camp I have had them in my living room as a reminder to get them fixed. Sweatman's mowers let me down yesterday. I wondered if there was somewhere on my way to work where I might get a replacement pole. But having had a look-see I can't help but think that a good dose of duct tape will put it all to rights.

And so off to Singleton to collect Suzy and Gordon Tracy for our peregrination. From wictionary, a peregrination is a journey from place to place. Usually on foot. Parish Peregrination is billed as a series of (about) thirty geocaches involving a walk of about fifteen miles through six kentish parishes.There are some who might say that the distance was somewhat excessive for one day, but we thought we'd give it a go.

We nearly fell at the first hurdle; on approaching the designated parking spot (where formal permission to park has been given to all geocachers) we found a locked gate. Woops. A two mile detour brought us to the other side of that gate; and we were off peregrinating.

It was a good walk; only one stile on the entire route, and very clearly marked footpaths for all of the way (except in only one spot). We had a "hit list" of twenty-nine geocaches; we found twenty-eight. We didn't try for the twenty-ninth. the descripttion said that the church in which it was based closed at 5pm, and at 5.05pm we were still several hundred yards up the road from it.

We were walking for nine hours today, and at the end we had covered just under seventeen miles. I feel I must mention the religious nuts we met along the way. In the middle of nowhere a chap with a pronounced American accent appeared from nowhere and led us back to the footpath from which we had strayed. As we walked along this path we were harried and harrassed by several people who I could only describe as looking like extras from the fiilm "Deliverance". One of the more loquatious of these people, a rather scary freak wielding a large axe, told us that they were a self-sufficient community of seventy families totalling nearly three hundred people, bound together by their faith in their God.

I'm sure these deightful people (!) were harmless, but I certainly felt rather apprehensive around them, and was certainly glad when we got away from their lands. Mind you it did very little for my state of mind to find we'd gone from religious-nut-central to Chillenden; scene of one of the most horrific murders in living memory.

I took fifty photos whilst we were out. I do that a lot.

As a geocache series how could I describe it? It is unlike any cache walks I've done before. I first heard of this series at a cachers meet about a year ago when I heard it described as "old-school". I think that's a fair description. The caches are spaced out far more so than on many other geo-walks; an average distance of half a mile between caches. The only two other walks I've done of comprable distance (Gypsum Gyratory and CBN series) have a hundred (or more) caches and are numbered 1, 2, 3... This walk isn't like that. Each cache has it's own name and a little local history, and needs a little thought with the map to work out which cache is next and where the route goes. Which is a good thing. Some walks are all about numbers of caches. This one isn't. It's about a really good walk.

It's a shame more people haven't done this walk. The individual caches get found, but from what I could see I don't think anyone has done it in its entirety for eight months.

Once home "Furry Face ^TM" curled up in has basket and snored. The poor little dog was worn out. My face was glowing; for all that the day was rather overcast I caught the sun today. And my back really hurts too. I can understand my legs aching, but why should my back ache?

I can't be ill tomorrow. I've finally got an appointment with the experts who are going to sort out my insomnia. I hope...

5 April 2014 (Saturday) - Geo-Meet

The excitement of yesterday evening clearly took its toll when I fell asleep in front of the telly shortly after getting home at 11pm. Bearing in mind how poorly I usually sleep "er indoors ^TM" probably did the right thing leaving me asleep; I woke and went to bed properly shortly after 3am when I dozed fitfully for a couple of hours before getting up and re-watching the lastest episode of "The Big Bang Theory" which I slept through last night.

The morning;s news was all of a twitter about Sir Bruce Forsyth stepping down from his leading role in "Strictly Come Dancing". I can't say I blame Sir Bruce; he's well into his eighties, and is twenty six years over the age at which I intend to retire. Personally I've always liked his appearences and wish him well, but I can't hide my amazement at the uproar the news has generated. How on Earth is Strictly Come Dancing peak time TV viewing? Have you ever seen the show? Whilst I hestitate to dismiss it as utter drivel it is... well, it is utter drivel. WHat is the attraction of the show? I can't see it.

And so on with the business of the day. Hunting tupperware. Today was the "Maker Madness" event at which people showed off their inventiveness at creating geocaches. I had this vague idea to crow about the Wherigos I've put out. It's no secret that I expected that I would invite people along people along to a Wherigo walk only to have no one show, and then I would whinge that I'd offered... sulk, sulk sulk.

In the event I was wrong. A dozen people came along and we had a really good time. I didn't need to help at all. Everyone seemed quite OK with the software; I just wandered along chatting with friends old and new as we went. An hour's stroll led us to the cache as I'd intended when I'd put the Wherigo out all those months ago.

Leaving eveyone behind to find the Park Farm caches I then took "Furry Face ^TM" home where he went to sleep and I made my way to the WIlliam Harvey pub for the monthly meet-up of tupperware hunters. A really good meet-up of like-minded people. I chatted with old friends. I met new friends. I even met Frankie-Doodle who I've not seen in over ten years. And having guzzled a gallon of light & bitter we even went and did a geocache just to prove we could...

4 April 2014 (Friday) - Busy

I had an amazingly good night's sleep last night; finally being woken by my alarm. I can't remember the last timr that happened. It speaks volumes that I struggled to turn my phone's alarm off; I am so unfamiliar with it.

Crumpets for brekkie. "er indoors ^TM" had bought some (going cheap) and I was under orders to get them scoffed. They weren't anything special. Next time I shall feed them to "Furry Face ^TM" and stick wth toast.

To work, listening to the radio as ever. There was talk of the housing market; concern was expressed that the price of an average house is now far beyond the buying power of the average person. Apparently a house goes up in value more each day than the average person can earn in that day.

How can this be a sensible society in which you can earn more money from having a house than by working?

Once at work I did my bit, practiced my sax, and came home again. Our evening dog walk brought us through the park where I saw two rather attractive and amourous young ladies. Snogging. With each other. That was something of a result ! I watched for a few minutes until they came up for air.

As we came along Christchurch Road we saw something you don't see very often. Another Patagonian Tripe-Hound. There was a little dog which was a three-quarters sized version of my Fudge running loose in the street. The dog had no collar, and as she came sniffing round my dog I saw it was a little girl dog. I couldn't leave her running loose; Patagonian Tripe-Hounds are dogs of remarkably little brain and i had visions of her running in the road. So I scooped her up. I expected her to react to being picked up; she did; she licked me. This little pup wasn't at all bothered about having a stranger picking her up.

I then spent five minutes walking the length of Christchurch Road bellowing out asking if anyone had lost a dog. After a while a chap emerged to claim her, and we chatted about how marvellous Patagonian Tripe-Hounds are.

My phone rang. "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" was bleeding and was on the way to the hospital. So I went up there to do what I could. In the end it was as well that I turned up. Despite the deliberate unhelpfulness of the receptionist I eventually found her in the maternity unit where another obstructive jobsworth informed us all that she was not far enough gone for them to be interested. When we asked if she should just carry on bleeding until she died, this onstructive jobsworth (who claimed to be a midwife!) suggested we might go home and call an ambulance which would then bring us back to this very ward.

I marched my daughter (and grand-unknown) over to the delivery suite where I demanded to speak to the most senior midwife. I explained what we'd been told, and I suggested that if we could all pretend that we'd come into the hospital by ambulance we might save an hour's farting about (as well as the cost of an ambulance ride).

Finally we found someone to take us seriously. Scans were done, investigations made. All was well, and after an injection of anti-D we went home via a celebratory McDonalds...

3 April 2014 (Thursday) - Trilby, Chaplin...

Over brekkie I watched the latest episode of "The Tomorrow People". Having been marking time for weeks the plot now seems to be going somewhere. About time too; I was seriously considering giving up with the show.

After brekkie I had a couple of moments spare, so I harvested all the dog dung from the garden. It's amazing how many turds such a small dog can generate. I also took the fluorescent tube out of the fish pond filter. I never know which one to buy when I replace the thing. It was due for replacing.

And so to work. The news this morning featured the revelation that nursery schools aren't preparing toddlers for the rigours of school. The pundits started ranting about how ridiculous it was to have academic expectations of a two-year old. But it seems that the nursery schools aren't preparing toddlers for schools in that many children aged five are going to school for the first time who are not toilet trained and can barely speak.

I would have thought that this was a job for parents, but apparently (so the experts said) only well-to-do parents teach this sort of thing to the fruits of their loins; the vast majority of humanity need someone else to impart these skills. The implication was made that the vast majority of humanity can barely speak themselves and are not toilet trained.

The morning's news also mentioned Charlie Chaplin. He was held up as some sort of an icon on the "Thought for the Day" section. This boiled my piss. There has been a recent biography of him which was discussed on yesterday's morning radio show. I didn't realise that had he lived today he may well have been a candidate for Operation Yewtree; apparently his first two wives were only sixteen years old when he married them. His last wife was eighteen when they married (he was fifty-three) and it was intimated by the biographer being interviewed that Chaplin "liked" young girls. Quite a serious allegation to make on live radio I thought.

Mind you I never liked Chaplin on a personal basis. My grandmother actually knew him; he was a contemporary of one of her older cousins. For all that great show is made of Chaplin's humble origins, no one ever mentions how he turned his back on the very people who helped him during those early years. (Like my great-uncle Ted).

And so to work, where I had a better day than I had been expecting. Again lunchtime was saxophone practice time. My music-reading skills are coming back; albeit rather slowly. Today as well as getting used to Puff (the magic dragon) I experimented with my tonguing skills on some vulgar boatmen. It was an experience I may well share with an unsuspecting public in the not too distant future.

This sax business is going a lot better than I ever imagined it would. Mind you I think that if I am going to do the thing properly I am going to need a black trilby with a white band round it. I have this idea that all the best saxophonists wear a trilby.

Home via the Koi shop in Chilham. I've now got the replacement tube of the pond filter; I just need to fit it and we can re-activate the pond. I was going to do it tonight, but other stuff took precedence.

I took "Furry Face ^TM" for a walk. We went out through Newtown where we woofed at passing cyclists and came back via Asda where we laid several dog's eggs. I wish he wouldn't make such a show of it.

And with "er indoors ^TM" off visiting the home of "The Man with No Alias" (patent pending) to peruse the latest developments in kitchenware I set about the ironing. Far from ironing itself, left unattended it seems to breed and multiply...

2 April 2014 (Wednesday) - Fast Asleep (Not Me...)

Another early start spent much the same as most mornings watching drivel recorded onto the SkyPlus box. I have worked out that when the clocks went forward the cheap rate timer on the leccie meter stayed where (when?) it was. So I've taken to doing laundry over brekkie. Mind you, like most things in life, it has good points and bad points.

On the plus side I am saving money by using cheap leccie.

On the minus side I can't hear the telly over the noise of the spin cycle.

I can't remember anything of note on the morning's radio show on my drive to work. I suppose that would be a good thing both for my blood pressure and the temperature of my urine.

Work was much the same as ever. At lunchtime I popped out for sax practice. I found myself a little bored with Dvorzak and so experimented with Puff the Magic Dragon. I found myself going up an octave and was left breathless, but I was rather pleased with the result. I just need to keep practicing.

I saw something rather shocking on my way back in to work. Every lunchtime I go out for sax practice, and the inestimable Soup Boy goes for a run. That's what he tells everyone. As I walked back to work I saw the inestimable Soup Boy. He had made himself comfortable on the grass, taken off his shoes and gone to sleep. So much for his four-mile runs (!)

As I drove home there's no denying that I wasn't feeling on top form. I felt rather breathless. Yesterday I mentioned about Saharan dust. Apparently this stuff has combined with "other pollutants" and has given the worst air pollution in South East England for years. Officials have even gone so far as to advise anyone of a delicate disposition to stay indoors.

I wondered if maybe I should have done that, but small dogs don't understand news bulletins. So I popped the lead onto "Furry Face ^TM" and took him through the Co-op field and round the park. Our walk was relatively uneventful; no fox poo, no dog fights. All rather dull really.

Once home I checked out the Internet. A geocache or two has gone live locally. Over fifty of the things down on the marsh. That will be something to do over the next weekend or so. I then spent a little while sending personal emails to people whose names appear on geocache logs but rarely come to any of the meets. I've now invited over fifty people (who I don't think have ever done a Wherigo) to come Wherigoing on Saturday morning.

I wonder it there will be much interest...

1 April 2014 (Tuesday) - Sand

A rather bad night; I was kept awake by the "gentle rythmic breathing" (!) of "er indoors ^TM". I gave up trying to sleep, and came downstairs. the idea was to watch drivel recorded onto the SkyPlus box. However overnight the SkyPlus box had received a software upgrade. So I spent a little while seeing what was new. Nothing was new; the only difference was that all the functions were in different places.

After watching South Park and Family Guy I then had a look-see on-line. Facebook has had a face-lift too. And again nothing is better or improved; just different.

As I got into the car I thought it looked rather grubby. The pundits on the radio mentioned about a Saharan sand storm. I thought that was obviously an April Fool's joke, but every car seemed to have a light covering of sand. It had to come from somewhere.

Once at work I did my bit. At lunchtime I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to go to a seminar on rivaroxiban. Fascinating stuff, and a free lunch too. Mind you I did have to cut down on the length of my saxophone practice to fit it all in.

And it didn't help that whilst I was setting up my music stand in the car park I was accosted by some silly old git. What did I think I was doing? I thought I was setting up a music stand, and I told him so. I also thought that was obvious and I told him that as well. This twit wasn't fazed at all and demanded to know why I would be setting up a music stand in a car park. He took my honest answer (for saxophone practice - dur!) as sarcasm and had a right whinge about how rude I was. He didn't even shut up when I pulled my saxophone out of the car and started playing the New World Symphony (rather badly).

I took "Furry Face ^TM" for another longer walk this evening. I do like the lighter evenings. We went round the park where we had a fight with a scottie, and then round to the co-op field where I made another video. On the way home I saw Cheryl and Lacey drive past. they didn't see me, and I sulked about that for a bit.

I then spent a little while emailing various collectors of tupperware. There's a big sandwich box hunting event on Saturday, and as part of it I'm going to show anyone who is interested how to go about completing a simple Wherigo. I've emailed several people; let's see if there is any interest.

And with tea scoffed we set off to Arden Drive. Insults were bandied, and we watched Merlin. Tonight they were bringing people back from beyond the grave. Despite having missed a golden opportunity to improve the show by not returning Sir Bigtits, this evening's episode was rather good. It must have been - I stayed awake.