25 March 2015 (Wednesday) - This n That

Another restless night; as I lay awake at 6am I had a sudden realisation that I sleep better in the afternoons before a night shift than I do at night. Was that because then I pull the duvet up over my head? I tried an experiment and was absoultely out like a light when a text message and a Facebook message both from "er indoors ^TM" woke me. All is well in Southampton. (Not so in Beaver Road, but I didn't let on)

By then it was getting on for 8am so I got up and had some brekkie.

After yesterday's memory lapse "Furry Face ^TM" was looking at my toast with a hopeful expression. But no toast for him today. As I selfishly had all of my toast myself I had a look on social media.

Following the publication of the formal investigation into his conduct, those who were rather nasty to anyone who dared to say anything bad about Jeremy Clarkson over the last few days and weeks are now realising that the man isn't a saint. It now turns out that Clarkson *did* assault someone because he couldn't have steak and chips for his tea.

However there is still a groundswell of opinion in favour of letting him continue producing his TV show "Top Gear". It would seem that to many that Jeremy Clarkson is a "colourful character" and "a bit of a lad" and giving out slaps is what those sorts of people do. And furthermore ignoring and forgetting the fact that he's assaulted someone is a fair price to pay for the continuance of a favourite TV show. Apparently.

With a little time on my hands I took "Furry Face ^TM" for a walk. We met OrangeHead's chunky little friend and her spherical dog. Chunky little friend had the nerve to greet Fudge with "Hello Porky".

We then had a minor altercation. Yesterday "Furry Face ^TM" expressed his physical love for a small boy poodle. This morning we met a larger boy poodle, and my dog again thought he would "brandish his lipstick". However this poodle definately did not "bake a moist sponge"; neither was he "good with colours." Said poodle made his disinterest crystal clear. Fudge soon ran away leaving me to sort it all out. It's rather embarrassing having to apologise for your dog's failed amorous advances.

Shortly after that we met OrangeHead who was polite and civil. OrangeHead and her gang make me chuckle. When you meet any of them individually they are polite, courteous; even friendly. When you meet them together they are like a playground gang and make a point of blanking you.

We came home; and then I settle my dog and I went off to the late shift. As I drove to work this morning I listened to "Women's Hour" (as it was on the radio). Sometimes this show is interesting and informative; other times it is little more than a platform from which men-hating harridans spew their bitter vitriol. Today wasn't a good day. Today's misandrists were particularly vicious. I don't know why the BBC puts up with them; I suppose that (unlike others I have mentioned) they haven't actually physically assaulted anyone yet.

There was also an interview with a spokesman of "Dark Justice". This bunch are a load of vigilantes who have decided to clear the streets of paedophiles but don't feel that they should be bound by such legal red tape as evidence or proof. It was rather worrying to hear their chap ranting on the radio. Clearly not over-burdened with brains this fellow felt that his deciding that some innocent was a paedo was enough to start hounding that person.

Before getting to work I discovered that there is a branch of "Go Outdoors" in Canterbury. Being an outdoors sort of person I thought I'd have a look-see. There's no denying they have an extensive range of stuff. But if I ever need to buy anything I will be sure to check their prices carefully. Some things were reasonably priced; others vastly over-inflated. I'm not paying over a hundred quid for a pair of trousers that I can get for fifteen quid in Matalan. The designer label isn't worth that much to me; but I'm sure there are those who will pay for it.

I got to work; I did my bit. At lunch time I blew my sax. It's coming on reasonably well. For all that I'd rather work weekends or nights, working day shifts does give me that lunch break which lends itself to saxophone practice.

And with my bit done I came home. In the dark. I hadn't realised how much longer the days have got lately.

As I drove home I wondered what I would have for tea. The decision hinged entirely on where I parked. If it was up the road from home it would be either KFC or kebab; if down the road it would be curry and chips.

In the end it was a pulled chicken burrito. It was a disappointment...

24 March 2015 (Tuesday) - A Smack in the Gob

I woke at 1.30am this morning following a rather vivid dream in which the river Exe (in Devon?) was about to flood the world. For no explicable reason only I could save humanity by somehow creating a huge milk churn out of the contents of the local branch of Curry's. It's amazing how shook up I was by this; I didn't get back to sleep properly after that shock, and dozed fitfully until brekkie time.

I blame the trauma of being left "Home Alone" and unsupervised.

Over brekkie I watched another episode of "Dad's Army" in which they didn't like it up 'em. As I watched I fed half my toast do my dog; completely forgetting that he's supposed to be on a diet.

I was on the early shift today; as I drove the pundits on the radio were lambasting the Prime Minister. In a recent interview the chap has said that should he win the upcoming election he'd be pleased with the result, but he has no intentions of trying for a third term in office. Personally I think that's a sensible decicion; however those who make the news have seen this as a golden opportunity to start speculation about his successor some five years preamturely. And an inordinate amount of air-time was wasted on the subject.

There was also mention about money being allocated to the University of Nottingham solve some of the most famous mathematical problems of our time.

One of the problems they are trying to sort out is to prove or disprove the Riemann hypothesis. I can remember having the matter explained to me as a maths undergraduate and I couldn't make head or tail of the matter. As I recall it had something to do with integration.

I respect and admired those who have an inkling of what it is all about. But (as usual) the presenters on the radio tried to make fun of the subject in an unconvincing attempt to cover their own ignorance. Why do they always ridicule anything they don't understand?

I got to work; I did what I had to, and at lunch time I had an amazingly successful sax session. I'm perhaps a little piccolo on my vibrissimo, but my "Moon River" is every bit as sexy as the current TV ad for chocolate.

An early start made for an early finish. I came home and ran "Furry Face ^TM" round the park where he expressed his physical love for a poodle. The poodle in question was a boy poodle; my dog was clearly never confused.

Being a Tuesday the clans gathered; this time without me. Several restless nights have taken their toll; being out late wouldn't be a good idea today... I had an early night instead.

And in other news "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" has been bashed up off of a seagull. The feathered fiend swooped from nowhere, slapped her firmly in the mouth with its wing, and made off with her cheeseburger. Personally I think it is hilarious, but she is distraught, and apparently in quite a bit of pain too.

It would seem that getting bashed up off of a seagull is akin to all of life's other misfortunes; only funny when happening to someone else.

23 March 2015 (Monday) - At the Chip Shop

After a quite a lot of walking yesterday followed by an ale session (that I promised myself I wouldn't have) I slept like a log until a wet nose thrust itself into my left armpit shortly before 3am. As my dog then snored so I lay awake for the rest of the night.

I got up to find very little had happened overnight on social media, and I set off to work. The news was much the same as ever really. The pundits were up in arms that a prospective Conservative candidate for the next election had allegedly organised a race riot and then had it de-organised in order to make it look as though he was marvellous. Whilst what he has (alledgedly) done is despicable, it's the sort of cheap stunt that I for one have come to expect of politicians.

Mind you there's no excuse for what happened to Nigel Farage yesterday. Leader of UKIP, and potentially the worst thing that could happen to the UK, the poor chap and his family were hounded out of a pub by those who would oppose his politics. It's rather sad that those who would see UKIP fail in the polls have actually garnered sympathy for the UKIP leader by their actions.

Or is this another political publicity stunt? I don't know.

I stopped off at Morrisons before work. Having been there in the evenings just lately it seemed odd to do my own packing this morning. Just recently there have been Brownies at the checkouts doing packing as a fund-raiser. I don't mind the girls themselves, but I did feel obliged to give them a donation. I don't mind giving the donation, but I do mind being made to feel obliged to give said donation.

Work was work; at lunchtime I saxed. "Bridge over Troubled Water" is crossing some very troubled water. And "Moon River" is rather troubled as well.

As usual I'd parked at the far end of the car park so as not to disturb anyone. However when I went out at lunch time there was a chap in his car; ten yards from mine. He had all the doors of his car open and was sitting in the driver's seat revving the engine/ As I started saxing so he glared at me and revved the engine louder.

He did that for forty minutes. He must have money (as well as petrol) to burn.

After work I went home via the chip shop in Nunnery Fields. With "er indoors ^TM" off on a course in Southampton I've been left to fend for myself. It's possible I might not survive till Friday.

I'd bought a pasty in Morrisons this morning for tea, and thought some chips might accompany it well. (Gourmet dining here you know!)

It was a shame that whilst in the chip shop I was accosted by the village idiot's thicker sister.

Whilst another *one* (Beryl) was having a good old gossip with the woman behind the counter (and the queue grew and grew), the village idiot's thicker sister latched on to me and told me all about her operation, and how she can no longer "strut her stuff" until her tummy gets better. Apparently she lives in a box-room; and it would seem to be her life's dream to meet someone else who lives in a box-room. Mind you her pleasant manner soon evaporated when he got to the front of the queue and placed her order. She was going to have to rough it with a battered sausage because loquacious Beryl had had the last of the chicken nuggets. It very nearly came to blows.

It took twenty minutes for me to get a bag of chips. It would have been quicker to cook them myself.

I came home, and watched "Poldark" as I scoffed. I then set about getting the laundry done, and whilst the washing machine did its thing I had a look at the astro club's accounts.

And then there was a near disaster. The SkyPlus box had ofrgotten I'd told it to record "Gotham". It's forgetting quite a lot these days. Maybe time for a new one. A free new one. Or Sky can go whistle and we'll go with Virgin.

22 March 2015 (Sunday) - East Peckham

I woke this morning feeling particularly miserable; but half an hour spent on the sofa wiith my dog perked me up somewhat. My phone rang rather earlier than you might expect on a Sunady morning. Whoever it was never actually spoke, but I could hear chattering in the background. Mind you with today's technology you get the caller ID displayed. I shall phone 07804 602107 tomorrow morning at 5am to see who it was.

We got ourselves ready and drove out to Paddock Wood. Or nearly Paddock Wood. There was a geo-meet planned for the evening so we thought we'd have a walk round the area beforehand. Eleven of us and two geohounds meet up in a pub car park at 10am and set off for a walk. And an excellent walk it was.

We covered nine miles; we found forty five caches. It might have been more had the field puzzles we solved been closer. Several milestones were acheived by various people on our walk; including Sue and Malcolm's five thousandth cache find.

I took a few photos whilst we were out and about.

The evening meet-up was scheduled for 6pm; we got back to the pub with two hours to spare. Fortunately we weren't too late for food. A plate of roast lamb slipped down very nicely. As did Shepherd Neame's ales straight from the barrels; to say nothing of a bottle of Brilliant ale and a bottle of Christmas ale.,

I'd spent the day walking with excellent company, and the evening chatting with even more excellent company. Not a bad day at all...

21 March 2015 (Saturday) - Stargazing Live

Last night at five to bed time I had some emails. One of which was telling me of a new puzzle geocache. I had a look at the thing. I had it solved in a few seconds, and went to bed. I woke rather earlier that I was expecting to, and couldn't get back to sleep. So I hopped in the car, went for a drive and soon had this new cache in my hand. First one to find it too. I was pleased about that.

Once home I collected "Furry Face ^TM" and we went for a little walk. We stopped every five paces so's he could sniff where other dogs had tiddled. That gets a little frustrating really; if all he wants to do is sniff tiddle then I might as well piddle up the garden fence and leave him in the garden for the day.

We had stale hot cross buns for brekkie. Stale, but they toasted up fine. And with brekkie scoffed we drove down to Folkestone to see the baby. He's getting bigger. For all that I like seeing the littlun there's no denying that I spent most of the visit fast asleep.

We came home with a rabbit (!); and when the rabbit was collected by its new parent I went for a brief bit of shopping before setting off to the astro club's annual "Stargazing Live" event.

In previous years this has been a really good evening; well supported by the public who have been enthused by a week's astronomy frrom the BBC. This year I think it would be fair to say we had ben let down by the BBC. The material they supplied us for the public was rather poor compared to previous years; and it was all about the solar eclipse which happened yesterday. It seemed odd that the BBC provided this stuff about what happened on one day but asked us to have the events the day after. And they didn't publicise the thing like they used to; despite our best efforts to advertise locally attendance was half that of previous years.

Mind you we still had over eighty people along. Some excellent talks, and a rather good bit of chilli too; most people seemed to like what we put on. The only fly in the ointment was a rather garrulous child who persisted in repeatedly asking trivial and pointless questions. This child wasn't expressing a genuine interest (which I would encourage) but purely liked the sound of his own voice.

When my children were younger I wouldn't put up with that behaviour and they knew it. I do hope this child doesn't show up again...

Between that little brat (who *really* boiled my piss) and managing to get myself locked in the hall when trying to close up at the end of the evening I had to stop and take a pace back to realise we'd actually had a good session. Next year we won't rely so much on the BBC...

20 March 2015 (Friday) - Eclipse and Cards

Sunrise this morning was (about) two hours before the end of my shift. Realistically the breaking dawn did little more than to show me the cloud that I suspected would be in the way of seeing the sun. Overnight (as always) I'd had the radio on; at least once every half-hour the pundits had proclaimed that the long-awaited solar eclipse was going to be hidden by clouds. I've said before that astronomy is a crap hobby. Most of the time it's too cloudy to see anything; and if you ever get that rare occassion when there is no cloud, then it's chuffing freezing.

But bearing in mind that I wouldn't get the chance to see another solar eclipse for many years I decided to go with the plan; the cloud might clear. After all, I had the astro club's solar telescope in the back of the car in readiness. And there was a geo-meet arranged especially for the event.

I *might* get to see a once-in-a-lifetime event. If nothing else I could talk tupperware-hunting with other geocachers and maybe drum up some interest for tomorrow's "Stargazing Live" show.

I was glad I did go to the geo-meet. For all that the clouds didn't part and we didn't get to see the eclipse, it was an excellent meet-up. I chatted with loads of people about this and that. Several people said very nice things about my Wherigos (I got *very* smug), and I now have ideas for two more Wherigos. Bacon rolls were provided for the hungry; and we even streamed live footage of the eclipse from the BBC who had goone to where it wasn't quite so cloudy.

Just as we were all leaving and making plans to see one another at the next meet-up, the family with whom I'd been talking asked about the next meet. Specifiically what was it?

After a little confusion and explanation it tuurned out that this family weren't geocachers at all. They were a little embarrassed to say that they'd seen me shouting at another cacher in the car park when I'd arrived, and they thought I might be important. So they'd followed me and watched me being very noisy at what seemed to be an organised group (which confirmed their suspicions). They were impressed with the solar scope that I'd set up (even if we didn't use it) and everyone seemed to be friendly, so they just joined in.

They liked the sound of geocaching, and said they might take it up.

I could have gone on from the meet to a caching mission; the optionn was there. People were going hunting tupperware. But I was a bit tired, so I came home. I walked "Furry Face ^TM" round the park, and then had a crafty kip. I'd only intended an hour or so's shut-eye; I was out like a light until the phone woke me shortly after 4pm. I slobbed about watching "Upstairs Downstairs" in my jim-jams for a bit, then got ready for the evening.

Apologies to any of my loyal readers who would have liked a game of cards tonight. Realisitically we can't have more than nine people playing as it gets impractical. I could easily think of thwenty five people I could have asked along. I invited eight other people based on relative proximity and how much people like cards, and the probability that they would turn up; and did ask that if people couldn't make it they might let me know so's I could ask others.

Eight of us eventually got round to Texas-ing and Omaha-ing; and in a novel break with past form I actually won. Whilst doing so I shifted getting on for a gallon of ale, and the Rear Admiral put his arse through one of the chairs.

There was a time when I would play cards on a weekly basis; I do like a game. I really should play it more often...

19 March 2015 (Thursday) - Little Bit of Politics

As I drove home this morning from the night shift the talk on the radio was all about yesterday's budget.

The pundits were of the opinion that it was a budget aimed at buying votes in the upcoming election. (As if we didn't see that one coming.) I *really* hope that the electorate can see through such cheap vote-grubbing, but realistically we've hardly got much of an election to look forward to.

Over the last few weeks and months several of my loyal readers have confided complete bafflement about the political situation in the UK, so I'll take this opportunity to summarise that for which we get to vote in only forty-nine days time.

In years gone by the vote was a straight choice between wanton greed on one side and well-meaning incompetence on the other. There were other choices (most notable was platitude-blathering); but they weren't ever going to amount to anything, and hadn't done so for the best part of a century.

However over the last fifteen (or so) years the wantonly greedy and the well-meaning incompetent have taken on board one or two elements of the other's policies. The differences between the main political parties aren't quite so clear-cut any more, but if you look closely one side still advocates self-interest and the other is still incompetent (but well-meaning).

Things really came to a head five years ago at the last general election. With no clear winner the blatherers of platitudes got to hold the balance of power. Despite having effectively come third in the election, they got to choose the government by deciding with whom they would form an alliance.

Leaving aside the entire way the blatherers of platitudes abandoned any and all principles they might once have had, they have however set the mould for the next election. It is highly unlikely either of the two major political parties will have a majority of seats in the House of Commons after the upcoming election. This means that everything any party might try to do can be outvoted by everyone else acting together.

So to get a majority in the House of Commons one or other of the major political parties will need to form an alliance with one (or more) of the smaller parties. (That's a "coalition" - what we have at the moment)

The trouble with a coalition govearnment is that in order to form a workable alliance the major party in the alliance has to accept at least some of the demands of the smaller party. This can have a moderating effect on the larger party's policies (as has probably happened with the current government), but will probably have dire consequences in the next coalition government.

Having abandoned too many policies and principles in order to gain power, the blatherers of platitudes are effectively now a spent force in British politics.

There are two small parties who will effectively hold the balance of power at the next election. Commanding a very small percent of the vote, they will hold sway over the future direction of the country. And both of these parties are single-policy parties and so will only have one thing to demand of a potential coalition partner.

I predict that the next government will be a coalition which will either have Britain leave the European Union (having first sent them all back on the next banana boat), or will (within six months) have made Scotland an independent country.

I hope I'm wrong, but this time it won't matter who we vote for. This time the minority will win.

Perhaps we need a whole new system?