16 March 2025 (Sunday) - Gardening

I slept like a log last night right up until the nightmare in which I was at the bar in a crowded pub where the queue at the bar was getting longer and longer because the King (who was standing next to me) couldn’t decide what he wanted to drink and no one could be served before him.

What was that all about?

 

I got up, made toast and peered into the Internet. I sent out birthday wishes to the two Facebook friends having a birthday today. There wasn’t much else happening in the Internet, so I munzed, got wordle on the last attempt, and sparked up my chess app. Overnight it had updated, and was working again, so I did something racy with a prawn to see what “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” would make of it. Some might say I advanced the Queen’s pawn, but we don’t encourage the normal people, do we?

 

I put a load of washing in, and having completely forgotten the mental notes I’d made yesterday I had a little look in the garden to see what I needed from the garden centre. I needed white stones, brindle chippings, lawn food, a bag of compost, two biggish shrubs and a small plant. I harvested the dog dung (again) and then set off to get garden stuff.

Bearing in mind that Ham Street garden centre opens half an hour earlier than Bybrook Barn I went there only to find they didn’t have any brindle chippings or white stones. Ho hum… I got the compost and the lawn food and the plants and went to Bybrook Barn. I arrived there at the same time as a rather irritating chap whose wife was constantly apologizing for him as he was continually getting in everyone’s way. He really was utterly oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t the only person on the planet.

I went there to get two bags of stones; I came out with five. One bag of white wouldn’t have been enough, and it was buy two get one free. And the red ones were at a bargain price if you bought two.

 

I came home and heaved everything into the back garden. I got the laundry hung out, some white stones round the cordyline and one buddleia potted before “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs came home from their walk. We had a cuppa and a lunch of hot cross bun, then I went back into the garden.

I got the other buddleia into its pot, then re-potted the triffid that “er indoors ^TM” wanted me to save. And I put the new polyanthus into the pot that the triffid came out of.

By the time I’d swept up, tidied up and made good six hours had passed. I took a few photos of what I’d done in the garden since Thursday. Over the last three days there’s probably over ten hours’ effort and close on ninety quid’s worth of squander spent on the garden. You really wouldn’t think it, would you?

I ran round with the watering can, got the laundry in off the line and put another load in to scrub, and reviewed the situation. The lawn needs a mow. The ponds need turning on. The wooden planter I made last year needs sanding and painting. The yard needs a tidy. A lot of the garden ornaments look tired and need scrubbing or replacing…

I left that all for later and made myself a cuppa. I felt I deserved it. There’s only so much garden I can do and still be able to move the next day.

 

“er indoors ^TM” sorted a gammon joint which we scoffed whilst watching episodes of “The Great Pottery Throw Down”. I was left wondering - how do you get into pottery? Everyone’s got a kitchen so baking is easy enough to have a crack at. But just the basic set-up in pottery would cost an arm and a leg.

 

And in closing, today is March 16^th. Back in the day it was the start of the close season. Every year there would be no fishing from March 16^th till June 16^th so that the fish might breed in peace. Nowadays it doesn’t seem to happen. The law states that it still applies to rivers and canals, but it doesn’t seem to be enforced.

I’ve not been fishing for years. Five and a half to be precise. The last time I went was when I caught my biggest fish ever.

15 March 2025 (Saturday) - Late Shift

I slept rather well last night despite a rather vivid dream in which everyone at work (except me) went down with a plague of zits. What was that all about?

As I scoffed toast I peered into the Internet and saw an update from Hazel O’Connor. Famous in the eighties she eventually moved to France where three years ago she had a stroke, and is now dependent on Go Fund Me to pay for ongoing care. It must be awful to have to beg like that, but long term care after a stroke doesn’t come cheap. I remember when my Dad had a stroke I fully expected to sell his house to pay for nursing home costs.

I had several emails. We met a couple of people geocaching in Kings Wood yesterday; it turns out that quite a few people had been up there searching for Tupperware.

I had an email from Uswitch – I’ve signed up with them and it would seem that despite what everyone claims, EDF really are far cheaper than Octopus.

I tried to Munz but my phone wasn’t having any of it. I re-started it and was able to Munz and Wordle, but the chess app wasn’t working. Probably for the best as “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” was about to hand me my arse on a plate (again).

 

Being Saturday we all went round to Repton for Dog Club which was fun (as usual). Morgan rather disgraced himself by getting over-excited, but it was nothing that a little time-out didn’t solve. Dog club is always fun; there’s usually three things going on: Games of chase, hoping for treats, and games of dog-piggy-backs.

As we drove home we listened to Steve on the radio and I was three years out on the Mystery Year competition. Total Eclipse of the Heart? I thought 1986. I thought wrong.

 

It was good not to have to bath the dogs when we got home. We had a cuppa with a hot cross bun, and I counted up the contents of the Dog Club collection pot, pocketed the cash and transferred that amount (plus nine quid for my three) to the Repton people’s account.

I had a quick look in the garden to plan a shopping list from the garden centre for tomorrow, then set off to work. I soon lost reception on Radio Ashford, so as Steve receded into the fizzing and crackling I turned to my rather wonderful MP3 stick and sang along to Sparks, ELO and Ivor Biggun as I drove up the motorway. It was surprisingly nippy as I walked from the car park into work; I couldn't help but think that a week previously we'd been sitting in the sunshine in the beer garden eating an al-fresco dinner. 

 

Work was work. It usually is. Back in the day Saturday afternoon and evenings at work would be nothing but the occasional sample from the A&E department as everywhere else in the NHS was closed. Nowadays there's probably between ten and twenty times the workload. But the staffing numbers remain constant and I won't mention the pay. But I've got a (part-time) job which I actually like which is more than many have. I'm not complaining.

 

I came home. I only drove round the local streets for ten minutes trying to park this evening. As I walked down Beaver Road I found myself peering through the window of The Locomotive. The nearest pub to home; “My Boy ^TM” used to play for their pool team. For years it was a thriving place. This evening at half past nine there were four people in there. I counted them.

It can’t stay open for much longer…

 

Today was really good right up until dog club ended… at ten to ten. It was a tad dull after that.

14 March 2025 (Friday) - Pi Day

Perhaps I overdid the gardening yesterday? I rather ached when I got up this morning. I put a load of washing on, made toast and watched another episode of “The Other One”, then had my usual rummage round the Internet as I do. It was rather dull this morning.

I munzed and wordled until everyone else got up.

 

I hung out the washing and we went to the woods. As we drove Cyndi Lauper was on “Desert Island Discs”. She had a rather strange accent, and chose some rather odd classical music. Seriously?

We got to the woods, and unlike yesterday today wasn’t uneventful. In the depths of the woods we met some normal people with a Dalmatian. On seeing us from a hundred yards away the woman stared screaming “ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod”, got her dog onto a lead, and they all marched into a thicket of brambles shouting apologies at us as we passed. I have no idea what they were apologising for. Morgan looked at the woman with utter contempt, Bailey and Treacle ignored them, and the Dalmatian just looked embarrassed.

We waked a different route to yesterday’s. We saw deer, but I’d forgotten that we would walk past where I buried that deer bone last week. Bailey hadn’t. She disappeared for a few seconds and came running up the path with it in her mouth. As she chomped on it she snarled at the other two dogs when they came close. I eventually got the bone off of her and put it up a tree where they couldn’t get it… forgetting that Treacle is an accomplished tree climber.

Morgan and Bailey then mobbed Treacle trying to get the bone from her. I wasn’t that bothered about Treacle having the bone; she just shows off with something like that. Suddenly I realised that the little two weren’t trying to get the bone anymore. They had found a deer skull and were biting lumps off of that.

Eventually I got the bones off of the dogs and stashed them up a tree that Treacle couldn’t climb. And then Bailey found the dead frog I’d taken off of her last week. She ate most of that.

I took a few photos of dogs eating that which they shouldn’t.

 

As we walked we met a load of schoolkids out with their teacher and I had flashbacks. Back in the day I hated games afternoon at school. One afternoon a week was devoted to sports. The lads in our year were divided into five sets.  Set One had all the kids who were bound to be picked for the various school sports teams and the kids who did athletics at county level. Set Two was the kids with a better than even chance of being picked for school sports teams and would be in the House sports teams. I was in Set Five with the halt and the lame and the other fat kids. But after a while the sports master “Killer” Smith realised there were two distinct groups of children in Set Five. There were those who wanted to do the sports but weren’t any good, and there were those who were utterly disinterested. Those of us who were utterly disinterested were demoted into the newly-formed Set Six and set out for walks in the countryside with the Latin teacher. The theory was that if we went for a walk we would actually move more than if we were forced to be on a football pitch where we just stood and chatted.

As those kids walked with their mates chatting I remembered walking in the countryside with other kids who shared my total disdain for sports. But rather than being the punishment that “Killer” Smith had intended it to be, we all loved our country walks. I think it is those afternoons wandering the footpaths of East Sussex that started my love of walking.

 

As we came toward the end of our walk we met a couple of familiar faces. People were out geocaching on the series we set a month ago. We chatted for a bit, and talking of geocaching, rather than heading home we went off to find one ourselves.

If you log a “Found It” on a puzzle cache this weekend you get a souvenir on account of today being Pi-Day (3-14). It only really works if you write dates the American way, but there it is.

We drove up to Faversham where we failed to find two caches before finally being able to say “found it” on a third. Those two DNFs put us over an hour behind schedule.

 

Once home the two that had rolled in fox poo had a scrub. I made myself some toast, then went into the garden. I potted those pansies and polyanthus that I’d bought the other day. I put weed-proof membrane and chippings onto the plant I’d re-potted yesterday. I dug the dead peony out of its pot and replaced it with the Helleborus.

I had intended to set about the ironing, but by then I was all in. I made myself another cuppa and wrote up some CPD. Dull, but has to be done. A bit like ironing I suppose. I’ll do that next week.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up cheeseburgers. They were rather good. I think the two months past its best brie had a lot to do with it. That brie went well with half a bottle of port.

I suspect I shall be farting like a thing possessed later, but what with deer bones and dead frogs I shall be in good company.

13 March 2025 (Thursday) - A Walk, Re-Potting, Laundry

I woke this morning with something of a backache. Having no alarm set meant I didn’t wake silly early, and a backache is usually a sign I’ve been in bed for too long.

I made toast, and scoffed it as “er indoors ^TM” set off to work. As I scoffed I peered into the Internet. There was unrest on a Facebook page I moderate. This page has pretty much none of the pettiness and squabbling that many other Facebook pages I follow purely because the admin on that page have zero tolerance of pettiness and squabbling. Someone was asking why his mate couldn’t even find the page any more; his mate had been kicked out two weeks ago. His mate had been troublesome in the past, but I decided to let the admin who’d kicked him out make the announcement.

And I saw someone had made a comment on this diary. Specifically on an entry from ten years ago when I borrowed Steve’s pressure washer. Someone named Peter said “Thanks for sharing this amazing informative post with us” which was nice. He then went on to say “I found this helpful for, interior painting, exterior painting, pressure washing services in Yorktown VA. call…” It didn’t take long to see he’d been spamming other blogs too. I deleted his comment.

 

I took the dogs up to the woods where we had a rather uneventful walk. Once away from the car park we walked for over an hour and didn’t see anyone else. The mud and swamps have pretty much all dried up. We didn’t see any deer. It was a shame that the smallest two dogs had to roll in muck, but there it is.

After three and a half miles we were back at the car. I say “three and a half miles” as that was what my watch told me. We often walk the same walk we did today, and the mileage varies from three and a half miles to four miles. These watches aren’t *that* accurate.

 

We came home for a cuppa and biccies. There were none of my rich tea biccies left so I raided some of  “er indoors ^TM” Nice biccies; after all she’s got four more packets in the cupboard. They are half the calories of rich tea. I’m having those from now on.

 

I then went into the garden. Two weeks ago I mentioned that one of the large garden pots had started crumbling. I got the thing four and a half years ago; is that a good lifetime? I see that four and a half years ago that pot had a palm tree in it. That didn’t survive the first winter.

My plan today involved doing quite a few things, the first of which was to empty the crumbling pot. I then wanted to re-pot the plant in it, clear up and make good… and loads of other stuff which never happened. The moment I started scooping out the decorative brindle chippings on the top of the pot, so the rim started falling away. I got the decorative chippings out, but when I started trying to trowel out the soil so half the pot fell away. And then the hailstorm started. Realising I couldn’t leave the job half-way through I persevered. I emptied the soil, cleared away the pot carnage, re-potted the plant, de-weeded four garden planters and put the excess soil from the poggered pot into them. I really wanted to put the weed-proof membrane into the new pot, top up with brindle chippings and then plant out the pansies and polyanthus I’d bought on Tuesday, but I’d carried on through quite enough intermittent hailstorms already. And my back was playing up.

 

I came in, put a load of washing in, and had a spot of lunch. When washing finished I hung it on the airer and ironed the shirts. Shirts iron better when wet. And then I fed my undercrackers to the washing machine.

As I ironed and washed I watched episodes of “Four in a Bed” in which people with slightly imperfect Bed & Breakfast establishments were lambasted by a rather vociferous old battleaxe who felt that because she was too mean to hire staff and wanted to do every job herself to a piss-poor standard, people should give her the leeway that she wouldn’t give others.

 

“er indoors ^TM” returned from work and boiled up pizza and garlic bread. We scoffed it whilst watching more of “The Great Pottery Throw Down”. It looks simple enough; I reckon I could stuff it up given half a chance…

I wonder if I will get those garden jobs done tomorrow?

12 March 2025 (Wednesday) - A Present

I didn’t wake quite as early as I did yesterday, but having laid wide awake in bed for far too long it was half past five when I gave up trying to sleep.

I made toast, watched another episode of “The Other One” and had my usual root around the Internet. It was still there, and rather dull. I did have an email from Octopus Energy though. Everyone raves about how cheap they are and how much of a saving they have made by swapping to them. Yesterday I sent them figures for our energy usage over the last year. This morning they told me they would charge me over four quid a month more than I’m currently paying. So much for making a saving, eh?

 

I munzed, and then set off for work. There was a minor disaster this morning as the co-op had no coronation chicken sandwiches, so I roughed it with ham and cheese. Mind you if that is all I have to whinge about, things can't be that bad.

Yesterday I moaned about a totally incomprehensible speaker on the radio. This morning as I drove, the pundits on the same radio were interviewing someone I can only describe as Ms. Boring. There was talk about banning slushies for under eight-year-olds because of the glycerol in them. Some so-called expert was brought on to explain what glycerol was. Oh, listening to her was so dull. You'd think that people going on live radio would have a trial run beforehand to see if they were up to the job wouldn't you?

 

I got to work, and as I walked in I tried not to laugh out loud. Two elderly people were standing by the entrance to the lift looking at the button (with which you call the lift) as though it were a wild animal. One nervously asked the other if they had ever used a lift before, to which the other one replied that she hadn't.

How do you get to your eighties never having used a lift?

 

Work was work. The lunch of ham and cheese sandwich wasn't at all bad even if it was twenty calories more than the coronation chicken one I'd hoped for. And the meal deal of which it was part was a full one pound fifty cheaper than the meal deal at the works M&S, and the quantities were bigger too.

And we had an emergency. They claim to have them on the telly on "Casualty" - this one was nothing like that. 

As the day went on I had a delivery. A friend from the glory days of geocaching had got in touch. He’d found a load of caching gear and wondered if I wanted it.

Yes please.

 

I came home. “er indoors ^TM” sorted a very good bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching “The Great Pottery Throw Down”, and with dinner scoffed I had a look through my box of caching stuff.

I’ve logged the six trackables, and I need to start thinking about what I might do with these caches. I could really have done with them a month ago when I was putting out over a hundred. 

11 March 2025 (Tuesday) - Early Shift

I had something of a restless night. I gave up trying to sleep, made toast and sparked up Netflix which suggested I might like to watch “The Other One”. Starring her from “Alan Partridge” and the horrible one from “Downton Abbey”, so far it is OK.

I then had a quick look at the Internet. It was still there, and was rather dull at six o’clock this morning so I got ready for work.

 

I walked out through a rather clean front garden. For all that the jet wash makes a mess, once all has dried out, the results are quite impressive.

I drove round to the co-op that takes my co-op card (as opposed to the co-op that doesn't) where I got a rather good sandwich, box of carrots and  hummus, and a drink for less than the works M&S wants for just a (rather manky) sandwich. It's cheaper than the Sainsbury's petrol station too, and the co-op gives you service with a smile rather than the Sainsbury's snarl.

 

I set off up the motorway listening to the pundits on the radio interviewing some financial expert who was claiming that at the moment how well companies are doing on the stock market is entirely down to the political stances of the companies rather than their actual products. An interesting prospect; look at how Tesla seems to be going down the pan ever since its owner threw in his lot with Donald Trump.

Another expert was brought in to add his opinion, but sadly they might as well not have bothered. With a ridiculously thick accent no one could understand what the chap was saying. You’d think the radio’s producers would vet who they are having on, wouldn’t you? Or is that being discriminatory?

 

I got to work and spent much of the day teaching a trainee the mysteries of blood grouping, but as always an early start made for an early finish. I came home via Dobbies garden centre where they didn’t have what I wanted, so I went round to Bybrook Barn where I squandered the thick end of forty quid on pansies, polyanthus and a Helleborus.

I got them home, which took some doing. Carting from the shop to the car in a trolley was rather easier than lugging them all individually from the car to the back garden.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a very good chili which we washed down with a bottle of the red stuff whist watching “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat” which I recorded from the Sky Arts channel over Christmas. It is ages since I last watched that, but I still know all the words.

10 March 2025 (Monday) - Rather Busy

I slept well. I stepped on the scales and saw I’d not lost any weight this week. Mind you bearing in mind the epic pig-outs of the weekend I suppose holding steady is something of a result. I made toast… as the toast cooks I usually empty the dishwasher. Someone (me) didn’t set the thing going last night. Woops.

 

As I scoffed my toast I peered into Facebook as I do. Quite a few people had “liked” and commented on what I’d been up to over the weekend. Such a shame that not many people had posted photos of what they had been up to. Either no one had done anything, or no one wanted to show the world their antics. A disappointment; being a very nosey person I love seeing what everyone else has been up to.

I had some emails. My credit score with Credit Karma has gone down. Meanwhile my score with Experian has gone up. How does that work?

 

I took the dogs up to Kings Wood for a walk. We parked in the lower car park as we’d had reports of missing geocaches near there. One was missing; we replaced it. The other was broken. Totally smashed. Someone found it laying on the ground in pieces on Saturday. I sighed and replaced it.

We then carried on with our walk. Unusually we didn’t see any deer; we’ve seen loads this year. The dogs didn’t roll in anything (swamps or poo), we didn’t see any normal people. The walk was rather uneventful.

And we didn’t even need a bath when we got home.

 

I had a quick cuppa then washed the car. As I washed so not-so-nice-next-door came out and started whinging about the nappies and cans of Red Bull which are appearing in her garden. She claims that over the last few months nappies and cans of Red Bul have been appearing in her back garden. She made a point of saying she wasn’t accusing us of flinging things over the fence, but she had no idea where they might be coming from. Quite frankly neither have I. I told her that we don’t drink Red Bull (which we don’t) and that when littlun stays, her nappies go in the bin. She saw the admission that we sometimes have a baby in the house as an admission of guilt, got into her car and went off.

I got the pressure washer out and cleaned up our front garden, and the garden of the next-door that I (allegedly) don’t drop nappies into. Nice-next-door was made up that I jet-washed her garden. It was no trouble; It’s such arse ache setting up the pressure washer that once it is all ready to go I might as well make full use of it. And with the front of the house cleaned I had a little go at jet-washing the stepping stones in the back garden, then topped up the planters with soil. They had settled somewhat over the winter.

 

“er indoors ^TM” called me in for a cheese sandwich, then I went back outside again. Last year “Daddies’ Little Angel ^TM” got me some rather pretty hummingbird garden ornaments which I put onto one of the garden planters. I potted some of the sweet pea seeds we saved from last year’s sweet peas, and then I reviewed the situation. There’s loads still to do in the garden. One of the stone planters we got from Whelans a few years ago is crumbling. Replacing that and re-potting what is in it needs to be my next project. Then I need to pull the weeds out of the other planters and top up the soil in them. The lawn needs mowing. And give it a week or so and I will need to be getting the pond going again. I’ve long-term plans to totally re-vamp the big garden fountain, the lawn needs feeding and mowing…

I decided to stop. If I do too much garden stuff I can’t move for a day or so. In retrospect I should have done semi-retirement thirty years ago when I was still limber enough to do all these jobs.

 

I made us both another cuppa, wrote up some CPD, and re-vamped the spreadsheet I use to monitor how much money I squander. I’ve had this genius idea that I might allocate a couple of hundred quid a month on petrol rather than starting off thinking I’ve more money than sense (which isn’t difficult) only to find I’ve no money to get to work because I blew all the petrol money on Lego.

As I re-vamped I had a phone call from Jonathan from the Three network. At the risk of appearing racist I would hazard a guess that he was no more a Jonathan than I am a Rashid. I let him waste ten minutes of his time going through his spiel as I looked up his number on Who Called Me. Apparently he number had been looked up over two hundred times and had been reported as a scam, so after I’d wasted more of his time I offered him a one-off deal. He could either get stuffed or piss off. He hung up; I blocked the number.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up fish and chips ten went bowling. I watched the last episode of “Star Trek: Discovery” which rather dragged on a bit and ended not so much on a cliffhanger as a disappointment…

A decent show ending doesn’t have you looking up on-line to find out what it was all about.