3 October 2018 (Wednesday) - Late Shift

I slept well up until tiddle time at four o’clock. From then on my sleep was plagued by rather vivid dreams of a place where once I worked. There are vague talks of workplace mergers and I’m desperately hoping I don’t get transferred back. I wasn’t overly happy with the working environment when I left the place, and the other day I bumped in to one of the senior managers from there (who ironically I once trained). She told me the atmosphere was worse than ever…

I have a naïve hope that in any possible merger I might get paid off with an early retirement. Somehow I doubt it, but hope springs eternal.

Over brekkie I had a look-see at the Internet. A whole load of new puzzle geocaches had gone live near where I sometimes work in Pembury. That might be something to do in a month or so when I am next there. Facebook presented its usual brand of stuff; pictures of fluffy animals, knob jokes, attention-seeking rants, utterly wrong so-called facts… I wish I had invented Facebook; I’d be coining it in.

I got the leads on to the dogs and we went for a little walk round the park. As we walked I nearly laughed out loud at Treacle. She’d seen a cat. She was watching it intently, and she kept glancing at Fudge. Whilst she wanted to chase the cat, she wouldn’t be anywhere near brave enough to chase it alone. Fudge hadn’t noticed the cat. The cat however had seen the dogs and was watching them with great interest. As cats do.

We carried on round the park, and met OrangeHead and her posse. We exchanged pleasantries; it was a shame that Fudge tried to mount her mate’s Scottie. It is some years since the vet removed Fudge’s “apparatus” but still he tries it on with other dogs.

Once home I settled the dogs and set off in the general direction of work. I went off to get an anniversary card for tomorrow. Why is it wedding anniversary cards are filled with soppy twee nonsense? Why don't they make cards that say something along the lines of "yeah whatever - here's a card"?

As I often do before the late shift I thought I might have a little geo-adventure. At the moment I seem to have appointed myself to be a branch of the geo-police, and am checking the local geocaches which haven't been found for ages, and (mostly) reporting that they are missing. Either by mentioning to the person who hid them (if they are still actively looking under rocks themselves) with a gentle suggestion to have a look-see at their missing pot. Or by squealing to the geo-feds (if they are not) who will then dispatch the thing to obscurity.

But sometimes these supposedly missing caches *are* there. Today's first one seemed to have gone walkabout, but the second one soon came to light after I'd had a little rummage in a hedgerow. I got so excited at finding a cache which hadn't been found for over a year that I completely forgot that I'd climbed into a hedge and had got myself firmly wedged in, and I nearly did myself a mischief when (without thinking) I tried to stand up and walk away. It would have been rather amusing to anyone who might have been watching. It also would probably have looked incredibly suspicious to anyone who might have been watching.

I drove in to work, and once I found a parking space (there weren't many today) I went to the works canteen. On Monday a colleague said that the canteen had started cooking pizza to order. Yesterday another colleague had said how good they were. Today I tried one. At just under four quid a pop they aren't too shabby at all.

And so to work. The boss was grumbling that her children have announced that they have gone vegetarian and she now has to cook two separate dinners every evening. I suggested that she might tell them that the vegetarian alternative is that the fruits of her loin cook it themselves. Unfortunately she wasn't keen on starting that fight. I say "unfortunately" - it is unfortunate for her; not for me…

I had a rather busy day today, even If I did rather disgrace myself by falling asleep whilst the trainees were having a little lecture. I would have got away with it had one of the trainees not started giggling as I nearly fell off my seat.

I was rather glad to see the relief arrive at nine o'clock.

2 October 2018 (Tuesday) - This n That

A few months ago I watched the first two seasons of “The Good Place”; a rather good Netflix original show. This morning I started watching the third season. I was disappointed… I’m hoping it will perk up; a shame they are only releasing one episode per week; I’d rather binge-watch the lot.

I sparked up the lap-top to peer into cyber-space, and I had a thought (it happens from time to time…). Cast your mind back a couple of years. The year 2016 was universally hated and despised and somehow felt to be in some way responsible for no end of celebrity deaths. Yesterday both Geoffrey Hayes and Charles Aznavour died; people were posting about Geoffrey Hayes this morning. Quite a few people have croaked this year, and no one has seen it as in any way out of the ordinary. Why was celebrity death such an issue two years ago?

As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing the Prime Minister who didn't come over very well. She was blathering on about her recently-announced immigration policy which would seem to have already blown up in her face. Bearing in mind that a *lot* of people voted for Brexit as a sure-fire way to send them all back on the next banana boat ("Them" being pretty much anyone who might plausibly be sent back anywhere), the Prime Minister wanted to do something about immigration. However (demonstrably) the average Brit won't work for minimum-wage jobs such as in the service industries and in agriculture. And furthermore (equally demonstrably) the average Brit doesn't seem to be very interested in doing skilled jobs such as I.T. and medical stuff. So the Prime Minister's new policy makes allowances for this. Immigrant workers will be allowed in to the UK to do the jobs that the Brits won't or can't do.

And so this morning it was claimed on the radio that after Brexit there will be *more* migrant workers in the UK in the future; not less.

The Prime Minister didn't actually deny this revelation...

The "Thought for the Day" today made me laugh out loud at its idiocy. The vicar giving the talk started off blathering on about how difficult dieting can be. As a life-long porker I can relate to how hard it can be to lose weight, but with a determined effort you can shed the pounds. In an amazing feat of talking twaddle this idiot vicar then likened the effort of dieting to the effort of believing in a non-existent God. No one can deny that if you stop eating cakes and use massive amounts of will-power you'll lose weight. Therefore it is self-evident (apparently!) that by exactly the same reasoning if you believed hard enough, God would exist.

How do these people ever get taken seriously? By the same logic I can murder and rob banks If I *really* believe it is the right thing to do...

I stopped off at Aldi before work. I needed some armpit-squirt. Having got the stuff I then stood behind a sign saying that if I was behind it they would open another till, and I waited for ten minutes for the three members of staff to finish their gossiping before one of them (grudgingly) opened said till.

I got to work and did that which I couldn’t avoid. I was beaten home by "er indoors ^TM" for once.

We watched “Bake-Off” over a rather good bottle of plonk…. Hic!

Today is "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction ^TM" ‘s fourth birthday. We did a video call. Four – where has the time gone…?

1 October 2018 (Monday) - Geoffrey

Despite having intentions to spend yesterday evening watching all sorts of drivel on the telly I fell asleep five minutes into the first bit of drivel I put on the telly and so had an early night. Mind you I was wide awake at five o’clock this morning.

Over a bit of brekkie I watched the most recent episode of “Vanity Fair” in which Becky’s bosom heaved a little. Not much but she was having a go, which was the main thing. Captain Dobbin is showing some interest in sniffing round Amelia; it won’t end well.

I sparked up Facebook and saw that “Maria Tensriana” was still flaunting her wares on social media despite my having complained to the Facebook feds that graphic pictures of her hobby of (pork) sword-swallowing wasn’t perhaps the most suitable of things to show.

The photos I’d taken on yesterday’s walk had received a few “likes”, and I got to see photos of what other people had been up to at the weekend, which was always good.

Other than Amazon suggesting I spent good money on e-books I had already bought from them, there were no emails of note in my in-box, so I got ready for work. I could tell that Treacle was tired this morning; as I got dressed she showed no interest whatsoever in trying to steal my socks. "er indoors ^TM" woke, said goodbye and went back to kip, and I set off to work.

It was rather cold as I walked to my car; as I drove to work the pundits on the radio were broadcasting about the ongoing Conservative party's conference.

British politics is in a very sad state; the Prime Minister is *still* trying to rally support for her "Chequers" Brexit plan even though very few people in Britain believe it has any merit and the European Union leaders have unanimously (effectively) wiped their bums with it and flushed it down the toilet. But despite her refusal to stop flogging a dead horse, the Conservative party are unanimous in not even speculating on the possibility of hoiking her out in favour of a new leader.  After all, who would be dumb enough to want to be at the country's helm right now?​ I *could* be wrong here, but I am convinced that the actual (if unstated) view of the Conservative party is that Brexit is going to be an unmitigated disaster, and Mrs. May is being groomed to be the scapegoat.

In other news the Large Hadron Collider is to get an upgrade even though the Astronomer Royal  thinks it might all end in tears as scientists meddle with things they shouldn't. I suspect he's got the hump because he's not got a Large Hadron Collider of his own, and Brexit has put paid to his getting his greasy mitts on the European's one.

I got to work and phoned the Dogs' Trust. When "Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM" took over her Emporium there was a collection tin on the counter for some obscure overseas charity; the registered office of which is a residential address in Margate. Whilst it may well be all above board, it certainly seems rather dodgy. I suggested that maybe a tin for a charity closer to home might be a good idea. I was told that if I thought it was such a good idea...

After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing the people at the Dogs' Trust have said they will send out a collection tin. I wonder how much it will rake in?

There was a *lot* of talk at work today about the hospital just up the road. Following what was being billed as "an attempt to improve turnaround times" about two thousand blood tests have had to be repeated. On the one hand this is terrible. On the other hand I'm going to say "told you so".

This is just one of many mergers that was discussed over twenty years ago. At the time I said it wouldn't work... Usually I don't blog about work-related things, but this is now utterly unconnected with me, so I've no axe to grind (for once).

I did my bit at work; as the day went on there were two celebrity deaths reported. It was a shame that he death of the renown and celebrated French crooner Charles Aznavour was overshadowed by the death of Geoffrey out of “Rainbow”. I once saw Geoffrey out of “Rainbow” live; he was rather good…