10 February 2013 (Sunday) - Working...

I was shattered when I came home last night and fell asleep in front of the telly within a couple of minutes of sitting in front of the thing. I slept like a log, and rather than waking early to watch my DVDs before work, I had barely enough time to get myself organised this morning. It was as well the car wasn't iced up - I didn't have time to be scraping today.

As I drove I listened to the radio. Being Sunday the morning's discussions were of an ecclesiastical nature. There was an interview with a renown Christian journalist who has apparently resigned because he's not happy that the new Archbishop of Canterbury is against gay marriage. Well, pardon the Archbishop for doing his job and following the basic tenets of his faith! (Even if he and they is wrong)

I've done this argument to death, but it still winds me up. How can anyone have a religion, central to which is a book which lays down the law, and then picks and chooses what bits of this book that they agree with.

So-called "Christians" of my acquaintance try to wriggle out of this by claiming that (apparently) somewhere in the Bible it says that haircuts are bad, and would I advocate never having a haircut? (And then they have an obligatory self-satisfied smirk.) Well, were I to believe in that old twaddle, then yes, I would say haircuts were the work of the Devil. And if it does say somewhere in the Book of Emphysema that farting on a Tuesday is wrong, then you don't fart on a Tuesday.

Where do you draw the line? You don't! Rules is rules. You either believe in your religion or you don't. You don't take the bits that you like, ignore the rest, and then expect to be taken seriously. I don't call myself a vegetarian because I don't eat dogs and cats, but brush over the fact that I hapily scoff cows, sheep, pigs and the occasional horse.

After this interview there was a broadcast from a church service somewhere in Oxford. Some mornings the church service is bright and happy, sometimes spiritually uplifting. Today's wasn't. Today's was (quite frankly) dull and turgid. Which was a shame - I have taken to enjoying the Sunday service on the one Sunday in seven that I work.

I don't really mind working the occasional weekend. Especially when (like today) the weather was rather grey and murky. I was very much aware that I was missing a geocaching expedition today. Last week the weather was good and I enjoyed the stomp round Bedgebury. Whilst I would like to have gone out today (and would have done so were I not working), I didn't really mind being inside in the warm for a change. I can go out with Furry Face during the week when the weather might be better.

Whilst at work I had a nose bleed. When younger I used to have those with annoying regularity. I've not had one for ages. The worst thing about nose bleeds is other people...

Everyone else has a cure for nose bleeds that doesn't work. Over the years I've been subjected to keys down the neck, vice-like pinches of the nose, biting on wooden blocks... None of these cures work any better than shoving a tissue up my snozz and carrying on regardless. If any of my loyal readers find themselves having a nose bleed, then I would advocate shoving a tissue up your snozz and carrying on regardless. You'll find that the louder that itinerant first-aiders advocate their cures, the less personal experience they have had with nose bleeds.

I spent much of the day looking out of the window. The weather started rather grottily, and the initial dull overcast cloud had been predicted to give way to sleet by the mid afternoon which would become heavy snow by the early evening. I fretted for much of the day. I dislike driving in snow, and a heavy dose of the stuff today could well become a week of sheet ice everywhere when I would like to be taking my dog for walks.

And the sleet did come at mid day, and the snow was falling quite impressively at 4pm. I kept telling my colleague that with the ground being wet, the snow wouldn't lay. Neither of us were convinced, but we were both hoping that might be the case.

It turned out that the heavy snows didn't lay, but had turned into slush. That made driving home rather tricky. I knew that working in Canterbury meant that sooner or later I would have to drive through horrible weather. It wasn't *that* bad...

9 February 2013 (Saturday) - Dull

I had a rather good bit of tea as well as probably too much to drink last night. DLA does boil up a decent bit of scran when she puts her mind to it. I suppose that it's therefore no surprise that this morning's weigh in showed no weight loss. Mind you it showed no gain either. Realistically whist weight loss is good, no gain is probably what I should be aiming for.

I checked my emails and saw that a new geocache went live last night. It wasn't very far from where me and Fudge had our walk yesterday. That was a shame - if it had gone live earlier we might have been able to go look for it. Oh well - next week....

The car was covered in ice when I set off at 7.30am. Thick ice. It was almost as if a heavy rain had frozen on it. This was odd as it wasn't a particularly cold morning. In any event the ice soon shifted, and I set off to work. And then came home to collect my phone and lunch and everything else I'd forgotten.

I thought I'd have a look in Sainsbury's as it was (almost) on my way to work. Sainsburys - oh dear. I have heard it said that Sainsburys exists to keep the riff-raff out of Waitrose. I though that was a joke until this morning. Sainsburys don't give their stuff away, do they? The Ashford branch has been re-built since I was last there - I couldn't find what I wanted, and when I did find it I didn't buy it because I wasn't prepared to pay their prices. It wa a shame I'd spent a few minutes clearing ice from the car or I would have gone to Morrisons on the way to work. As it was I got to work with only a few minutes to spare.

A busy day, and having done my bit I came home. There was an odd play on the radio about the Spanish civil war. It was strangely interesting, which was more than could be said of the rest of today really...

Meanwhile down under an epically bosomed young lady is robbing petrol stations; using her "ample charms" to get close to attendants who she then threatens with a knife. It's sad that people are so shallow that they are taken in by something as simple as the waggling of a gargantuan pair of norks. I wouldn't fall for that... much...

8 February 2013 (Friday) - Hic!

Fudge has discovered the fish tank. It's been in the living room far longer than he has, but last night he obviously noticed the fish in it for the first time and went mental at them. And today, periodically, he was woofing, barking and growling at them. It's rather sweet really.

The recycling binmen came today. This time they took the bin of tat. They didn't take the rubbish we put out on Wednesday because it was too close to the front door. They couldn't reach it from the pavement and (apparently) they aren't insured to walk the two steps from the pavement to where the bin was. It's interesting that the postman, milkman, those who deliver pizza leaflets, religious crackpots, trick or treaters and carol singers have no difficulty in traversing my garden path. Either they have more comprehensive insurance policies, are much braver people, or aren't quite so petty minded.

I took Furry Face for a walk. It was looking like being a fine day, and there were two geocaches on the other side of town that I fancied having a go at. As we walked along one of the paths past the station I let Fudge off of his lead. He was fine; coming back when called by his whistle. And then it all went wrong. He started in the general direction of some woman with a dog. As I called him back so she called him and waved her dog's toy to attract him. Of course that got his attention. As I walked up to put his lead on, so this stupid woman produced a second tennis ball (her dog was fetching one) and she hurled the ball which Fudge promptly sped after. I eventually got him back on the lead; having quite seriously offended the stupid interfering old cow by asking if she'd like to adopt him. She really couldn't understand why I didn't want her to call my dog away when I am trying to do whistle training with him.

With the pestilential pup on the lead we came along Hythe Road and down Cradlebridge Drive. One of the things that annoy me about Ashford is that between the railways and the motorways the town is cut into sections between which it is very difficult to move. Navigating to the first geocache of the day showed me a footbridge over the motorway which was new to me. I shall use this on dog-walks in the future. The first cache was just off of this footbridge. Apparently.

I couldn't find it, but a little later I had a stroke of genius and I think I know where it might be. I shall go back.

We followed the footpath on and soon found the second geocache. This one was relatively easy to find, and I got a trackable from it as well. The description of this geocache asked us to give a brief description of how we came by our cacher names. I use the same alias pretty much everywhere. If any of my loyal readers might be wondering, "Manky Badger" is an old C.B. radio handle. Back in the 1980s when C.B. radio was big, all of my mates had high powered names “Big this”, “Mighty that”, “Super this”, “Mega that”. I’ve never been “Super” or “Mighty”, and so I went with “Manky Badger”. It’s probably quite apt, and is a name which has stuck. I am “Uncle Badger” to many, and answer quite happily to “Oi Manky!” Very few people would do that. And the world is full of Daves anyway.

We then followed Willesborough Road past the Batchelors factory and the Julie Rose stadium, and took a footpath round the back of the Little Burton estate where we met a nice lady walking her dog. Her dog and Fudge played really nicely for ten minutes, then we went our seperate ways. And just as I was about to put Furry Face back on his lead another twit dog-walker made a point of calling him away. And again took offence when I was less than orgasmic that he'd interfered with what I was doing with my dog.

I wish other dog-walkers would have some sense. To be fair, most have. But there is a minority. When i see other people doing dog training I don't interfere. I put my dog on his lead and leave them to what they are doing. I wish these busybodies wouldn't meddle when I'm trying to achieve something with my pup. He's getting there with his training but he's easily distracted.

Once home I spent much of the afternoon preparing presentations for the astro club. And then in the evening we went down to Folkestone where we walked the dogs along the beach and had a rather good bit of tea featuring (probably) far too much to drink. Hic!...

7 February 2013 (Thursday) - A Rant

It has often been said that I am a creature of habit. Very much so with breakfast. When working normal shifts (as "normal" for me as is possible) I have cereals for brekkie; otherwise it's toast and coffee. Always! Without fail! Today in a novel break with tradition I had toast and coffee even though I was working a normal shift. Sometimes I can be quite the rebel!

And so, once toasted, I set off to work. It was cold this morning, but not cold enough for there to be ice on the car. Also the morning was noticeably lighter than it has been. I'm grateful for that.

The news on the radio was all a-buzz about the report into the scandalous treatment patients had received in Staffordshire hospitals. Shocking! Disgraceful! Or so we would be led to believe. What actually happened? At this remove in time we'll never really know. But realism will never sensationally sell newspapers, will it?

However, whilst terrible things may well have happened, spare a thought for those working in those places. Or in any establishment where one has a professional duty of care.

Does anyone actually go into caring professions to victimise the vulnerable? Or to be deliberately negligent? Hardly! So why does the media act as though people do. Why does the media delight in spreading malice against health care professionals?

What message does the job hunter and the school leaver get from all of this? Why would anyone want to go into a job paying less than what one might get in the private sector? Add to that a job which needs to be done at all hours, day, night, weekends and bank holidays? And one in which the slightest error or lapse gives the press license to pillory the over-worked.

Not that I'm in any way bitter or twisted....

(takes a deep breath...)

On the way home this evening there was an interesting program on the radio about how high streets will be affected by the recent collapses of several big names shopping chains. I can't really speak for any other high street, but the one in Ashford has been (in all honestly) dying on its arse for some time. Having said that, the loss of the high street giants has probably been a good thing for me. With HMV and Blockbuster gone, CEX will take over with its cheap bargains. Woolworths... what did they actually sell? Nothing I can't now get cheaper in the pound shops. And I never ate in Pizza Hut anyway.

I've said before that I honestly think the entire concept of "high street shopping" is fast becoming an anachronism. Cheap pound-shops and the Internet have done for traditional shops. The pundits on the radio didn't entirely dismiss my theory out of hand...

And rather than going home I went to Sarah and Steve's for an astro club committee meeting where I almost passed a motion.

6 February 2013 (Wednesday) - In The Money

Over the last few weeks I've been blogging about the new series of "Yes Prime Minister". It started well, but hasn't really gone anywhere. We watched the fourth episode last night and I fell asleep. I don't think I can be bothered to carry on watching the rest.

"Daddies Little Angel ^TM" arrived with Sid shortly after brekkie time, and as she did her college work I got the latest batch of beer out of the bucket and into the barrel. And then got another load of beer into the bucket to be barrelled next week.

I checked my emails. The leccie company told me it was time to give them a meter reading so I logged on and nearly tiddled my pants in excitement. My account with them was over five hundred pounds in credit. I've been in credit before, and they have been only too happy to give refunds. So I thought I'd give up-to-date meter readings, see what was what and then ask for a refund. So I read the leccie and gas meter, typed in the numbers, pressed "Enter", and five hundred pounds credit suddenly became thirty pounds credit. Oh dear.

We then took the dogs for a walk. Through Newtown, past the Swan Centre, and home through Frogs Island and past the ponies. Sid nearly got run over by a passing cyclist, and Fudge shouted at a Shetland pony. All things considered a rather uneventful walk.

With "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" off on a mission doing whatever it is that "Daddies Little Angel ^TM"s do I set about the ironing. It took long enough. As I ironed I watched my "Voyage to the Planets" DVD. I've been looking for it for a very long time, and it came to light this morning. I must have seen the thing a dozen times, but still I like it.

Then I checked my post. I got to vote in the election of governors for the local health authority. Or that is I got the chance to vote. I didn't take that chance. Faced with four candidates of whom I had never before heard, and all of whom seemed to be blathering the same platitudes in their campaign addresses I realised that I could not choose between them, and so did not attempt to do so.

I got a begging letter from ActionAid asking for money to help the world's poor. I wish they wouldn't use such emotional blackmail.

Despite having told them (countless times) that I don't want it, I got yet another offer to have the Sky Sports channel at half price.

BT offered me the cheapest broadband deal ever. And it did seem a bargain until I read the small print and saw that all these deals were dependent on paying a monthly line rental fee which put the total price far beyond what I am currently paying.

But the best letter was from the bank. Having seen so many adverts for mis-sold PPI, a colleague approached his bank a few months ago and asked if he was entitled to anything. They gave him money. So a couple of months ago I did the same. I phoned the bank, and asked if I was entitled to anything from mis-sold PPI I might or might not have had in conjunction with any loans I've had with them over the years. Today they wrote back and said that they were unhappy that I had complained. (I hadn't complained; I'd asked if i was entitled to a refund). They said that they did not support or uphold my complaint, and that I was not entitled to any refund. But as a gesture of goodwill they would refund PPI payments totalling over two hundred quid. Result!

After a spot of tea "er indoors ^TM" set off to a congregation of the Honourable Association of Candlemongers. I slobbed on the sofa with Fudge and watched episodes of Babylon 5. I quite like that show. I should watch more of my DVDs. I have enough of them gathering dust...

5 February 2013 (Tuesday) - This n That

I always know I'm on an early start when even Fudge is still snoring and not disturbed by my pottering about. He eventually woke as I scoffed my cereals, and he sat with me as I watched an episode of Babylon 5 - the one I slept through last night. As the morning wore on so I seemed to develop a back ache. Probably something to do with the last three days spent on rather excessive walking. Having a non-physical day today wouldn't hurt.

And so to work. As always I listened to the radio as I drove. The Scottish Nationalists have released a detailed timetable of how they envisage Scottish independence will progress. Those world powers with nuclear capability are concerned that those without might be getting it.

As a child I naively had this idea that by the time I was old enough to know better, humanity would have risen above petty nationalism. One day we will (hopefully).

I heard that water bills are to rise. I can't find out how much my personal bill is to go up, so I can only expect the worst. The pundits on the radio were complaining about how it is unfair that water companies have a monopoly and the poor consumers cannot pick and choose the cheapest water company.

I can't see why not. I can change phone, internet, electricity and gas supplier at the drop of a hat without anyone touching the pipes and cables that come in and out of my house. Choosing whoever supplies those services is purely a paper exercise. So why can't water work the same way?

Once at work I remembered all the jobs at home that I didn't do yesterday. Ironing that doesn't iron itself, and five gallons of mild that needs to be taken out of the bucket and into the barrel. I had all good intentions of doing those jobs yesterday.

I forgot. I'll do them tomorrow.

And so home - or back to Ashford. being Tuesday the clans gathered. This time in Queen Street. I still giggle over the name of that road. We watched another episode of "Merlin". I do like that show, but it does require a serious willing suspension of disbelief. I'm quite happy to accept magic, wizards, dragons and mythical beasts. But I get very wound up by the historical inaccuracies in the episodes. Camelot would not have had magnifying glasses.

And in closing I'd advise my loyal readers to hang on to their pants. The world is going to end again. The next end of the world happens in ten days time when a huge asteroid crashes into the planet. Possibly.

Personally I'm not overly worried - I've seen the end of the world before. Several times. All of which were rather dull after the build-up we'd had for them. This one might be more impressive, but I somehow doubt it...

4 February 2013 (Monday) - A(nother) Walk

I woke with serious aches this morning. probably something to do with the serious walking I've been doing this weekend. Whilst I was shoving brekkie down my neck "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" arrived with Sid, and she promptly harangued Fudge and Sid about what "normal dogs" do. If "normal dogs" are like "normal people", then I'm not sure I'm interested.

We got the dogs leaded up and set off on a little walk. Through the park where Fudge seemed far better behaved than yesterday. He's probably terrified of his Auntie Kat though. Whilst walking we met up with Rachel and Misty coming back the other way. Did they want to come on our walk with us? Perhaps we should have told them what we had in mind. Having driven her car to the park because it's a little way from home to the park, we then dragged them on a three hour six-plus mile walk around the countryside south of Ashford.

But I think they enjoyed the walk. Bartlett's Lane, Long Length, miles of mud, carrying dogs over stiles. There was a dodgy five minutes when Fudge vanished under a fence and wouldn't come back. We blew the whistle to no avail, so "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" clambered the barbed wire to find him. After a couple of minutes Fudge came back, but "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" was stuck in the brambles and thickets and couldn't get back herself. Oh how me and Rachel laughed.

We hid two geocaches on our way to the disgust of "Daddies Little Angel ^TM". To keep her sweet I named one after Sid. It's only fair, Fudge has seven named after him. We came home via the pet shop where we got guinea pig requisites. Once home we did University work. "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" is doing media studies, and we watched the Noel Cowerd film "In Which We Serve". Well, that is I watched it. She and the dogs fell asleep.

Once awake "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" set off on a mission leaving me with two sleeping dogs which I let lie. I spent the afternoon doing the on-line astro-biology course. Again it was very interesting but I didn't really learn an awful lot of new stuff. Instead it seems to take stuff I already know and put it into a different perspective. Which isn't a bad thing I suppose.

After tea "er indoors ^TM" set off bowling and I checked my emails. Both geocaches that I'd hidden have been found. One within thirteen minutes of the cache going live. Thirteen minutes... (!)