16 April 2016 (Saturday) - Deer and Beer

I had something of an early night last night, and was wide awake at 3am. I gave up trying to sleep, got up and had a shave and a spot of brekkie. As my dog snored I watched the second episode of a documentary about young girls joining the Army, and went back to bed at 4.30am. I slept like a log until 9am.

Over brekkie I checked my emails. I can't help but think that Amazon need to sort their web site out. They keep sending me emails recommending e-books I've already bought from them, and emails asking me to rate e-books I've already rated on their website.

We then popped the lead onto "Furry Face ^TM" and took him for a walk. Both "er indoors ^TM" and I had a geo-calendar day today so I suggested a cache out near Blean. It was half a mile into some woods so I thought it would be a good dog-walk too. As we went we saw some deer; I took a few photos of the deer; my dog wasn't at all sure what to make of them.

Our geo-find was straight-forward enough; on the way back to the car we went near one of the waypoints of a multi-cache. This one was all to do with a bus route. Near the waypoint was a number magnetically attached to something supposedly best seen from the top deck of a bus. I spent five minutes stealthily trying to climb onto the roof of a bus shelter until the chap in the house over the road asked if I would like to use his ladder. So I used his ladder to get on to the bus shelter. I didn't find the number I was after.

I've since been told it was half way up a lamp post.

We came home; a certain dog had his bath. I was amazed at how much mud was rinsed from him. A pizza was scoffed, then we collected Jimbo from the station. "er indoors ^TM" drove me and Jimbo to Wye and abandoned us there.

We had a mini pub crawl.

Our main target was to check oout the micro-pub in Wye; the Barber's Arms. It's no secret that I'm quite a fan of micro pubs. Not this one however. I've called in there in the past only to find it closed. Today they were open but the chap running the place was disinterested to the point of rudeness. And his beer was overpriced.

We moved on to the New Flying Horse. The Spitfire Gold wasn't the best pint I've ever had, but the stout is always good. After a pleasent hour slobbing in comfortable arm chairs the lager louts arrived and (rather politely) asked if they could put the telly on so they might shout at the football. We took this as our cue to move on.

The King's Head wasn't bad if only for the oyster crisps. Have you ever tried oyster crisps? They taste just like cardboard but (strangely) in a good way.

The last port of call was the Tickled Trout. Usually a good place for a crafty half. The Trout Pout was an odd-tasting beer, but the Wantsum's More's Head Ale was not too shabby at all.

"er indoors ^TM" arrived to fetch us; the plan for the evening was dinner with Steve and Sarah. It was a good plan... it was an excellent evening.

However my memory of the evening is rather vague for some inexplicable reason...

15 April 2016 (Friday) - Tennis Ball

As I drove home from the night shift the pundits on the radio were interviewing one of the leading lights in the "leave the EU" campaign.

I find myself leaning more and more towards the "stay in the EU" mindset; in many ways because of the propaganda of the "leave the EU" bunch. Today's interview was a classic example. The woman interviewed started off by quoting a figure of how many millions of pounds it costs Britain to be in the EU. She was immediately challenged and was told that the actual figure was a fraction of what she had quoted. This woman didn't deny the corrected figure. She then went on to say that he NHS was on the point of immenent financial collapse because of all the money that goes to Europe. She was again immediately challenged and told that this was not the case, and again accepted the correction because (again) her facts were demonstrably wrong. This woman then tried to compare the costs of the NHS and the EU and was again shown to be miles out with her figures.

Having been publically shown to be factually incorrect in every aspect of her argument this woman changed tack entirely and (effectively) said that no matter how big or small the sums of money were, she'd rather they were spent on British hospitals than spent on the foreigners in the EU.

I find it difficult to give any credence to a bunch that seem to randomly make up the numbers as they go along, but it is a sad sign of our times that they will get the votes of the masses by just taking the xenophobia line.

I got home and took "Furry Face ^TM" for a little walk. We didn't go far; just to Newtown and back. Some walks are uneventful; today's wasn't *that* exciting but we did see one looney singing along to the strange music in his head, and another who was having a fist fight with himself at the bus stop.

We didn't walk far. Somehow I hurt my right hip during the night shift (I have no idea how), and it was gettng more and more painful. I cut short my plan to walk up to Hythe Road.

As we walked "Furry Face ^TM" found a tennis ball. He didn't have it when we left home, but shortly after we started walking I saw he was carrying one. He carried it all the way home. As I scoffed brekkie so he started ripping the ball to shreds. He seems to llike destroying tennis balls.

As he shredded the ball I watched a film. "Hope and Glory" was the tale of a young boy's experiences during the war. I quite liked it; I suspect "er indoors ^TM" wouldn't have.

I had this idea to go to bed for a couple of hours; I slept for four. I could have rolled over and gone back to sleep but had I done that I would not have slept later, so I got up and put the finishing touches to my current Wheri-project. It is amazing how much time and effort it takes to acheive so little with those things.

"er indoors ^TM" came home. We had intended to go for a little walk this evening, but it had been raining all afternoon and the weather showed no sign of cheering up. So plans for a walk were abandoned.

After a rather good bit of scoff I was left "home alone" as "er indoors ^TM" went to Dover for a card party (?). I vaguely toyed with the idea of going out on the razzle but it was still raining and I was still rather tired. So I slobbed about in front of the telly. I do that too much....

14 April 2016 (Thursday) - A Day Asleep

As I left work I turned on the radio in the car. Apparently Britian contributes one seventh of all the money that is spent worldwide in overseas aid. One of the pundits on the radio was expressing conccern at just how much money goes overseas. Apparently Britain is paying aid money to India and China; both of which have enough money of their own to finance their own space programs And of those countries which actually do need help it was alledged that they get so much money given to them that they cannot properly account for where the money actually goes.

A representative from Oxfam was then wheeled on who said he felt proud that we as a nation give so much, but when challenged he couldn't deny that our money shouldn't be subsidising those with enough to send rockets to the moon, or that there really is no accounting for much of the money.

What worries me most is that this fact is being bandied about as a valid reason for Britain's leaving the European Union even though our overseas aid donations is nothing to do with the EU.

There was also consternation at the boss of the oil giant BP being paid nearly fourteen million pounds per year when the company is losing money hand over fist.

Apparently sacking him would make the company even less profitable. Funny old world...

I didn't go straight home; I went to the local hospital for the results of my recent sialogram. The specialist asked how my lump had been since I was sialogrammed. Funnily enough the lump has been a lot less troublesome. It turns out that injecting and extracting the X-ray opaque dye is often enough to wash out the troublesome stones. This seems to have happened to me; I've now been discharged from the clinic.

Mind you my jaw aches at the moment so I took the opportunity to have the maxillo-facial expert give it the once over. Somehow I've strained a muscle in my gob.

I then took my dog for a walk. "Furry Face ^TM" antagonised the scotties and the spaniels that he usually antagonises, and because I wasn't paying attention I found myself tangled up with OrangeHead's posse. They were (for once) unusually civil. Chunky Little Friend's dog was in a dog push chair. The poor pup has had major surgery. We chatted for a while about forcing dogs to rest; it was quite nice to be accepted by the main momma of the Viccie park dog world for once...

It was only a shame that my dog then tried to hump her dog.

We came home for a spot of brekkie, then I went to bed. After listening to my dog shouting at every passer-by I came down, picked him up and sat him at the foot of the bed. With him finally settled I then slept like a log for most of the day.

I'm off to another night shift now...

13 April 2016 (Wednesday) - This n That

I woke feeling full of energy and raring to go only to see it was still dark and the clock said it was 3am. then dozed fitfully finally getting up (feeling like death warmed up) at 6.30am.

I had a look-see on-line over brekkie. The European Union in-out referendum debate continued to amaze me. Either staying in the EU or leaving the EU is a rather monumental decision. We (as a nation) need to make the right choice here. At the moment I'm leaning towards staying in purely because I've yet to see any valid reasons for leaving. But I am very much aware that my opinions are always in that of a vanishingly small minority. Last night I posted on Facebook that from what I've seen and heard over the last few months there are a *LOT* of good and valid reasons for staying in the EU (and several daft and invalid ones too), but *ALL* of the reasons I've seen for leaving boil down to the fact that those who want out don't seem to like foreigners very much.

I asked to be proved wrong.

Overnight I got a few replies, one from someone who was quite open in not liking the foreigners, a couple from people who would seem happier to take orders from Americans than from Europeans, and one who advocated leaving for the simple reason that the Government feels we should stay in (!). If the Prime Minister was to make the announcement that he spends a lot of time breathing I wonder how many people would then promptly die of asphyxiation as a point of principle.

Have I ever mentioned that I don't beleive in democracy?

I did see something that made me smile. In the past I've whinged about the organised jog-a-thon that effectively makes Viccie Park a no-go area every Saturday morning. It seems that there are simular runs organised across the country and one council in Stoke Gifford (it's in Gloucestershire) has decided to charge the joggers for the disruption they cause. The joggers are up in arms about it.

I don't know what the joggers in Stoke Gifford are like, but the ones in Viccie Park on a Saturday are generally rude and obnoxious; running six abreast, forcing everyone else off of the paths and swearing at other park users for daring to use the park. I wonder if the joggers have brought this on themselves?

I then had a look-see at my diary. I was rather amazed to see that I have stuff planned every weekend for the next few months (and that is pretty much both days of those weekends). At the moment I have one Saturday and one Sunday currently free between now and August. There's never a dull moment in my world.

I took "Furry Face ^TM" out for a walk. As we went past Asda there was a rather nervous looking woman. I say "nervous" - whe was twitching and seemed on the brink of tears. I asked if she was all right. She pointed at my dog (who was straggling some ten yards behind me) and said she had a really strong phobia of dogs. She looked *so* releived and was very thankful when I walked back and picked him up.

We met up with "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" and "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction ^TM" and walked off in the direction of Little Burton Farm. But when we were half way to our destination we reallised just how close we were to the American Diner. So we went and sat in the garden outside the place for twenty minutes. When we arrived I went inside and said we's like to order. The chap behind the counter gave us menus and said that they would take our order shortly. The place wasn't busy; there was only one table occupied inside. After twenty minutes we gave up waiting.

I do like the American Diner; the food is excellent. I *love* the ambience. But the service is so slow.

We came home via McDonalds where we got a chocolate milk shake each. I know the place has its critics, but there is very little waiting for McScoff.

I spent the afternoon in bed trying to get some sleep.... I'm off to the night shift now.

12 April 2016 (Tuesday) - Aching

I had a great time yesterday but the physical excertions have taken their toll. I was suffering somewhat today. My right foot and right elbow are rather sore and aching. And the lump on my head is rather painful,

There are those who would say that being fifty-two (and one sixth) is too old to be scambling about in rivers getting my pants soaking wet. They may have a point... but I don't see me stopping doing this sort of thing any time soon.

Whatever happened to my rubber dingy? I shall need that soon (and when the tide is right).

I spent a little while messing about on the Internet as I scoffed brekkie, then I popped the lead onto "Furry Face ^TM" and we went out to meet "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" and "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction ^TM" . She wanted to go on a walk past the bakery; I wasn’t going to argue with her. Suitably equipped with cake we walked out to Singleton Lake and back through Viccie Park. As we walked "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" had a phone call. Sam had taken Buster (the big dog) to the vets. Sam wasn’t happy because the vets wanted a sample of his poop. I don’t see that as a big deal, but then I suppose I am used to that sort of thing.

Once home I got out the shears and cut back more of the greenery which was overflowing the garden fence. Every time I go near that fence I expect our “delightful” neighbour to appear; ranting and frothing at the mouth. But there was no sign of him.

I then nipped up to the corner shop to get a sandwich for lunch. As I scoffed it I watched a film I’d recorded a few nights ago. “The Divide” was utter rubbish. I turned it off half way through and thought I might carry on in the garden. I loaded up loads of garden rubbish and took a car full of tat to the tip, then came home and mowed the lawn. The lawn mower collapsed at one point. I *think* I’ve bodged it back together; time will tell.

And having got the garden into a semblance of tidiness I set up the garden lounger, got myself a tin of lemonade, and slobbed about in the garden until it got too cold to stay out there.

I quite enjoyed that; I should do it more often.

Normally on a Tuesday the clans would gather, but what with Matt having the lurgy plans were put on hold. "er indoors ^TM" boiled up a rather good beefburger and we washed it down with a bottle of plonk whilst watching bake-off.

But I still ache...

11 April 2016 (Monday) - Damp in Dartford

Over brekkie I saw something which disappointed me. The astro club has been offered the option of having a stall at Ashford's Festival in the Park. We would be running something which would need to be staffed from (about) 7-8 am until (about) 8-9 pm. Obviously this would need volunteers to help run the stall. And so the committee asked the club membership for help via the club's Facebook page.

Out of the over three hundred people who could have offered we have had offers from five. And those five were people who already get their hands dirty for the club on a regular basis.

Needless to say this stall won't now be going ahead.

I scoffed brekkie, then set off to Teynham to the shop that sells workmen's clothing. Having picked up three hi-vis vests (rather cheaply) I went on to Dartford where I met up with Jo and Susan. The plan for today was a spot of rather specialised geocaching.

Every geocache had two numbers associated with it - D and T. D is difficulty; how hard the thing is to find. T is terrain; how hard it is to get to where the thing is hidden. Both numbers range from 1 (easy) to 5 (fiendish).

Today we were hunting some high-T low-D ones. Ones which were rather obvious but not that easy to get to. We had six geo-targets and thought we'd pick up any other caches we might be walking past.

Bearing in mind that we were going to be looking *very* suspicious we put on our hi-vis vests. Have you ever worn a hi-vis vest? They are just like Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility. No one ever looks twice at what anyone in a hi-vis vest is doing. They were ideal for today.

Our first target was T5 D1.5. Very difficult to get to; but when you are there easy to find. We got to where our GPS said the thing was.... we looked about. then realised we were on a boardwalk. We retreated a little, put on wellies then walked along the riverside to underneath where we'd been standing.

A quick geo-find and on to the next target.

The next target was only a minute's walk away. T5 D1. Very difficult to get to but one of the the easiest to find caches there are. This one was incredibly easy to find - we saw it from twenty yards away. But...

In all honesty we went to this one knowing we probably wouldn't actually be able to claim a find. The rules are that you have to get to the thing and sign the piece of paper inside. We'd planned today to be at the first cache at low tide. That worked; at low tide that one was an very easy find. However this second target was different. It was on the other side of the river at the top of a rather odd wooden structure. I thought about swimming over the river, but had I done so i would still have had to scramble up the wooden thingy.

The other side of the river wasn't easily accessible; there were a lot of industrial units and metal fences in the way. But I had an idea. We walked to the nearest bridge (picking up the cache that was on the bridge), crossed over and walked to as close as we could to the cache. I then went up to the nearest site office (in my hi-vis vest), waved my sat-nav at the site foreman and loudly asked if I could get to the river though his yard. I gave him a load of old flannel about it only being fifty yards away and the tide was too low for a boat.

The foreman waved us on without batting an eyelid.

We got to within ten yards of the cache but couldn't get to it. However having seen it from every angle we now know how to get to it... with a ladder and a boat... Next time...

We then drove for ten minutes to get to our next two targets. Target three was T5 D2. Very difficult to get to, but not quite that easy to find. I saw it right away; underneath a footbridge. But could I reach it?

I handed my phone to Susan. Not so much for heer to keep it dry as for her to use it to collect evidence. She did that very well.

I'd come along with my swimming trunks under my trousers so I popped my trousers off and put on a pair of wet-shoes. Jo put on her waders. They were very high waders. (You'd be amazed how much water you can get into a pair of waders). I gently tested the river for depth; I had this theory that although the edges were shallow, the sides might slope away rather quickly. But before I could expound this theory Jo proved it was right. I won't say she fell in; technically she didn't actually fall in. But there was a rather spectacular slip and skid (accompanied by a most impressive squeal) after which she was waist deep in the river and almost (but not quite) perpendicular to how she had been standing two seconds previously.

It was as well I had one hand on the bridge's girders and one hand holding her.

I did laugh!

With Jo rescued I thought I might continue gently testing the depth myself. One moment I was shin-deep in the river, then next I was armpit deep. It was at this point that I saw the problem faced by the aquatic geocacher. For all that I was now directly under the cache I sought, it was four feet too high for me to reach. But I had a plan. Jo had brought some steps along...

It wasn't the best plan I've ever had. I won't say that Jo's steps sank beyond trace, but recovering them wasn't easy. There was talk of Jo sitting on my shoulders to reach the cache (presumably whilst I drowned) but fortunately that idea wasn't followed up.

Some people read this drivel to get spoilers on finding geocaches so I won't say exactly how we got to the thing. But I will say that we signed the log and did the happy dance in five feet of rather smelly water to the tune of pints of water being emptied from waders.

The day's fourth target was a little way further along the river. T4.5 D2. Rather difficult to get at; not that easy a find when you get there.

This cache was in a tunnel which took a river underground. Getting into (and out of) the water took some clambering; it was as well that I'd not left Jo's steps to drown. And once in the tunnel the going wasn't easy. I had this naive idea that I would just march down the middle of the tunnel.

There was a five minute delay whilat I retrieved my shoe from the mud. The mud in the middle of the tunnel was three feet deep in places. We got through by keeping to the sides of the tunnel. The cache itself was quite obvious; hanging in clear view some forty yards inside this tunnel. I quite liked this cache find if only for the fact that the clean running water washed some of the stagnant smell off of me.

I'll allow myself a little whinge here - don't get me wrong - I'm in no way being critical of this cache but I would respectfully disagree with the grading it has been given. The cache itself was visible from quite a way away so I would give it a D rating of 1 or 1.5. But the terrain... 4.5 is perhaps an under-estimate. I certainly couldn't have got into or out of the river without help. T5 wouldn't be unfair.

At this point the plan had been to relocate to do two more river-based caches. But I was rather damp, and I was reliably informed that what had once been a nice pair of white knickers was now rather black and silty. Turning your white knickers black and silty is God's way of saying "Go Home!" So we did.

In retrospect it was as well that we went home when we did; within five minutes of saying our goodbyes the rain started.

We'll do those two other caches another time. Probably when we go back for the one we didn't get today.

I'd asked Susan to take a few photos as we'd splashed about in the water. Once home, showered and disinfected I put them on-line. Whilst we were out we'd picked up eight caches in total. I was aware that I'd clouted my head on one of the easier ones. Looking at the photos I seem to have done three caches on which I risked life and limb without injury and given myself an inch-long scar from a film pot under a rock.

I then took "Furry Face ^TM" round the park. We didn't go quite as far as we usually do; the rain was against us. We came home and watched "Upstairs Downstairs" - that show never gets old.

"er indoors ^TM" boiled up a decent bit of dinner, then as she set off bowling I spent the evening designing an advert for the astro club to stick in the programme for Ashford's Festival in the Park.

It took some designing...

10 April 2016 (Sunday) - Money

I woke rather earlier than I needed to. Trying not to wake my little dog (who was asleep on top of me) I got up and went downstairs for morning ablutions. Over brekkie I watched last night's episode of "Dad's Army" in which the Verger was being beastly in the vicar's bedroom. They don't write them like that any more. Which is probably for the best.

Just as I was setting off for work "er indoors ^TM" got up. She was rather scathing about my inability to find her geocache yesterday. Apparently she went out and checked up on it after I logged my failure, and shortly after that someone else logged that they had found it.. She showed me a photo of where I should have been. It didn't look familiar - the photo wasn't where I'd been. I think I got my geo-sums wrong. Woops.

I scraped the ice from the car and set off to work. As I drove the pundits on the radio were all a-twitter because the Prime Minister has made his tax affairs public. Since it had been revealed that not only was his father on the fiddle but the P.M himself had (allegedly) benefitted from his father's dealings he felt he had to do something to try to prove he hadn't got his hand in the till.

There is now uproar because his mother has recently given him a present of hundreds of thousands of pounds in cash. My first reaction was "so what?"; those with spare hundreds of thousands of pounds can do whatever they like with it. (Much as I'd like some of it)

But the pundits were asking if this was some sort of tax avoidance.

It transpires that if anyone's mum gives them a bung (*and* then lives for another seven years) then that's all very nice. That money is a present; the tax man doesn't get anything in inheritance tax.

(Inheritance tax being forty per cent of what you inherit -over a certain threshold)

But if anyone's mum croaks and leaves them money in her will then that money is fair game for inheritance tax.

I didn't know that subtle distinction. I'd never have thought of that. Which probably explains why I don't have any spare hundreds of thousands of pounds laying about.

This has given me some rather mercenary thoughts. My parents are both having major surgery in the near future. They wouldn't be having joint replacements and heart bypasses if the surgeons thought their numbers were up. Obviously they have a few years left in them. Perhaps I could convince them to make over their goods and chattels now so's I (and my brother) don't have to pay any inheritance tax.

Perhaps I might persuade them to work out what they are worth....

However I don't want to. It's not a nice thing to do, is it?

I then spent much of the long shift at work wondering if perhaps that's why I'm scraping a living working on a Sunday when everyone else is out and about; whilst other people are Conservative Prime Ministers being lambasted in the national press for their apparent greed at seemingly having done the tax man out of eighty thousand pounds.

Much as it pains me to admit, I always thought he was one of our better Prime Ministers up till now...