3 July 2017 (Monday) - Acer Spades

I would have slept better had the puppy not spent the night pushing me about. I should have done something about her, but I’m too soft with my dogs.

Over brekkie I had a look at Facebook; not much had happened overnight other than more spoilers and nasty reviews about Saturday’s Doctor Who episode being put up. It was as well that we watched the show last night. I actually quite liked it.

Doctor Who (like Star Trek) has a cult following of people who’ve watched the show from the start (or since they were born; whichever is the longest) and consequently feel that they personally own the show, and that the BBC are vastly overstepping the line by creating episodes of the show which don’t fit with their mental image of how the show should go. Such negativity killed off Star Trek in 2005, and I can see it doing for Doctor Who as well.

I put the lead onto the dogs, and we went for a little walk. As we went up the road we met Lacey with Dan-Dan and Bella. The dogs had something of a woofing fit when they saw Lacey. Lacey went to school; we waved bye-bye and walked round the park. Some days our walks are rather eventful; other days not so. Today was one of the duller days. Other than exchanging pleasantries with OrangeHead in the co-op field, today’s walk was rather mundane.

We came home, and I hung out washing, gathered dog turds, and then got on with the business of the day. I’d booked today as a day’s leave so’s I could continue in the garden. My plan was to re-pot my monkey-puzzle tree. I had visions of this being something of an arduous task; it was all done in half an hour. Flushed with success I re-potted “Spades” (my Acer), and then had a go at tidying the shed. There is no denying that the shed had become somewhat messy. So much so that I couldn’t actually get into the thing; all I could do was lean in and hope.

I started off by emptying all the stuff that was littering the floor. I found four shovels and three rakes. How many shovels and rakes does anyone need? I found a fishing rod I didn’t know I had. I found three fishing rod bags, two bivvies (fishing tents), a decent fishing tackle bag, and half a roach pole. I found my old golf clubs and two sledges. I found the cushions for the garden chairs we couldn’t find yesterday. I found the electric drill I couldn’t find the other week (I now have two drills). I found a dozen three-quarter-empty tins of dried paint.

I found enough rubbish littering the shed floor to fill my car. I did a tip run, and whilst I was out I popped to the curtain shop by the vet’s to get some more curtains for the shed. The current ones were looking rather tatty.

No one told me the curtain shop had closed down years ago. It is a sofa shop now.

I came home and had some dinner. Stuff left over from yesterday’s barby went down very well as I watched yesterday’s episode of “Poldark”. Have you been watching “Poldark” recently? Those Methodists were quite the rebels back then. I was a Methodist in the early 1980s; Methodism was somewhat dull at that time. I wish I’d been a Methodist in the 1790s.

I then looked at the shed again. There was still no end of stuff cluttering up the shelves, but that is (mostly) clutter; not rubbish. It just needs tidying. I decided to do that another day. Instead I heaved some rocks and shingle about the garden until it hurt too much to continue.

I stepped back and had a look at the garden. For all that I’ve been working hard, it looks awful. The lawn is in a right state where Treacle has been tiddling on it. I did a bit of research. My theory was right – Treacle is to blame rather than Fudge because he tiddles a drop at a time all over the place whereas she puts a whole tiddle-worth in one place. Apparently I should go out with a bucket of water and dilute every time she tiddles, and re-seed the dead areas.

I might have a go at that. After all it is a shame to have put in such a lot of effort into the garden only to have it spoiled by a manky lawn. That might be a job for tomorrow.

"er indoors ^TM" came up with a good bit of dinner, then went bowling. I put “Star Trek: Nemesis” on the DVD player and did the ironing.

So much for a day’s holiday; I’m worn out…

2 July 2017 (Sunday) - Polish Lager

I made a point of not drinking too much last night. There are those who would disagree, but what do they know? I woke shortly after 5am and tried not to wake the dogs (or "er indoors ^TM") as I got up for my morning ablutions. As I shaved I wondered if I’d done the right thing. I had had the offer to swap today’s early shift for the late shift. Perhaps a lie-in would have been good? But after the lie-in, then what? I might have lain in bed until 9am (certainly not much later), but thenI would have fretted all morning about having to be at work shortly after mid-day and not actually achieved anything with the morning. By doing the early shift I could be home by mid-to-late afternoon.

I then had a look at Facebook. The photo of me pulling a pint had  attracted quite a lot of attention overnight. I hadn’t seen Steve taking the photo; it was quite a good one. And then I realised I shouldn’t have looked at Facebook; I found out quite a bit about what happened in last night’s episode of “Doctor Who”. I wish people wouldn’t post spoilers.

Being on an early start I set off to work very early for a Sunday morning. As I drove there was a surprisingly interesting thing on the radio about a breed of bee which can be found in the general area of Cerne Abbas, and which makes its hests in discarded snail shells. Apparently naturalists are dumping empty snail shells around Cerne Abbas for the bees.

I got to work and had a rather busy day. I came home to find that "er indoors ^TM" had arranged for "Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM" and "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction ^TM" to come round for a barby. Seeing it was a warm afternoon I rather fancied a lager; I went over the road to get some… I had no idea just how strong Polish lager is. Even making shandy out of the stuff still had a drink about as strong as the average UK lager.

We had a rather good evening. Burgers, piri-piri chicken, pork lions (!) cake, and Pogo even fell into the garden pond.

Bearing in mind I worked both days this weekend, it has still been a rather good weekend…

1 July 2017 (Sunday) - Pulling My Own

Another good night’s sleep. I’ve got a theory that I sleep better when *on* rather than *in* the bed. I got up shortly before 6am and watched an episode of “Dark Matter”. It passed forty minutes in an entertaining way, but the “time loop” story is one which various genres of sci-fi have done to death before.

I sparked up my lap-top to see if I’d missed anything overnight. Looking at Facebook I realised I missed a meeting of the astro club last night. I say “missed”; I had no intention of going. Following years of behind the scenes nastiness I decided to walk away from the thing in February, and my decision was reinforced on 10 June at a party when a couple of astro club members turned up who (for at least three years) have been making a point of blanking me whilst being effusive around everyone else.

A crowded room can be really lonely sometimes.

Whilst most people in the club are aware of this, no one has been prepared to do anything. Having everyone watch this happening and then tell me how rude this pair had been and how their behaviour was unacceptable got rather old rather fast.

The roads were wet as I drove to work, it had been raining heavily overnight. As I drove I listened to the radio as I so often do, and I got a bit cross. . Following the resignation of the head of Kensington council there is some consternation that there isn't anyone in charge of what is going in in the aftermath of the fire, and there is speculation that the government will appoint someone.

The pundits on the radio were interviewing some woman who claimed to be representing the" Justice for Grenfell Towers" organisation. This woman was amazing; she was dead against the government appointing anyone. The area apparently needed someone who was representative of the locals. She was adamant that the head of the council hadn't represented the people of the area at all, and when the interviewer pointed out that this chap had won an election to get his post, it was obvious that this woman had no idea what local elections were all about.

Clearly democracy is wasted on the public.

There was an iffy five minutes as I drove up the slip road at junction five of the motorway. A mini flew past me at breakneck speed, closely followed by another. They might just have both been in a hurry, but it did look as though the driver of GF17 HHO was desperate to catch up with the first mini to win their race.

I stopped off at Aldi to use their cashpoint machine, and got to work with a few minutes to spare. With time on my hands I popped in to the hospital's Costa for a second brekkie. I had a coffee (overpriced) and a croissant (cold and stale).

Ironically just as I walked to the department I found a cashpoint machine not twenty yards from where I work; and it doesn't charge either. For months I've been going out of my way to get cash.

I did my bit, and came home. Slowly. There was a speed limit on the motorway, and five miles south of Maidstone the north-bound carriageway of the motorway had the traffic stopped and loads of police officers walking about the place.

I wonder what that was all about.

Once home we scoffed a piccalilli sandwich and then (in a novel break with tradition) *I* drove us down to Hastings to spend an hour or so wth my brother. I’d not seen him for ages; we put the world to rights.

On the way home I saw that petrol was six pence per litre cheaper in Sussex than in Kent. I filled my car up.

We had a quick bite to eat, then headed over to the Windmill. "My Boy ^TM" and Cheryl soon joined us. Anne and Chip have recently taken over the running of the place. The ale selection is definitely “not too shabby”, and I got to pull my own pint; I’ve never pulled a pint before.

We’d gone to hear “Access All Areas” playing; I do like them, but tonight they sounded better from a distance. They are a good band; they *really* don’t need to crank up the volume quite so much. As my head hurt I found myself wondering. The Windmill calls itself the home of live music. There is no other pub within a mile or so of the place, but the vast majority of the people in there were friends of the band who had gone to see the band play. I wonder if the music is scaring people away from the place?

Mind you I liked the pub. I shall certainly go back for a pint or two… but when it is a bit quieter…