17 April 2024 (Wednesday) - Late Shift

I heard a dog jump off the bed at four o’clock this morning, but by the time I’d leapt up it was too late. There was a small pie of turds by the back door. I let the smallest two out into the garden (Treacle was still fast asleep) before we all went back to bed.

I dozed though till when “er indoors ^TM” ‘s alarm woke me at half past seven. It woke me – it didn’t wake her though.

 

I made toast and had my usual root around the Internet. It’s been a while since I last had any dubious friend requests, but I had one this morning. “Letex” hails from the Philippines and would like to chum up with me, but so far hasn’t put much on his/her/its Facebook profile, which is probably for the best.

“Letex” has twenty-one friends on Facebook – that is more friends than sense, really. I wasn’t going to make it twenty-two.

I read that the geocaches along the river Medway that need a canoe to get at are being archived soon. I wonder if they will be replaced. We had fun with our inflatable canoe when we did those.

I saw there was a new geocache just down the road… with its first find logged twenty minutes after it went live.

 

Not having been woken by her alarm I prodded “er indoors ^TM” awake, then set off to Folkestone. As I drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing Caroline Lucas (the Green MP) who has written a book about how you can go about being proud of being British without shaving your head, stomping round shouting “Ing-Ur-Lund” and harping back to the glorious days of Empire.

It needed doing.

This was followed by talk of an updated version of Shakespeare’s plays. They’ve been updated with emphasis on being performed. It would seem that generations of schoolkids forced to read plays written in medieval English (and never acted out) have formed the idea that Shakespeare’s plays are a load of old tripe. Which is certainly the opinion I formed after sitting reading frankly incomprehensible drivel.

 

I got to Folkestone, picked up “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” and “Darcie Waa Waa ^TM” and took Pogo to the vets. He’s having a biopsy on a rather ugly lump on his leg. As we left him he was screaming the place down. Poor Pogey.

We had McBrekkie; toffee caramel latte and super-McMuffin with bacon, egg and sausage. Very nice. I dropped the girls back home, then dropped the littlun’s car seat back with “er indoors ^TM”.

I set off up the motorway to work. Needing petrol I went to the Aylesford Sainsbury's petrol station. I've used that place for years but it has been closed for the last couple of months for a refurbishment. Seeing it was open I went hoping for great things... it looked just the same as it used to.

 

Work was work. During the afternoon I got the message that Pogo was home from the vets. He was a little groggy from the anaesthetic, so “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” put him in a crate where the littluns couldn't bother him too much. I wonder if I might borrow that crate?

And shortly after that I had another message. Another woman(?) of dubious morals wanted to be my Facebook friend, and in order to sway my decision she'd sent photos of her "toys"; she had quite an extensive collection of rubber accessories.

Why do these people do this? To persuade sad suckers to send money on the promise of a mucky photo that you can get for free by turning off the Google safe search?

 

The late shift was a tad like hard work. They can be sometimes. I’ve now got a few days off…

16 April 2024 (Tuesday) - Pansies, Lobelias, Violas and a Peony

Treacle and Bailey woke me with a woofing fit shortly after eight o’clock. I was glad that they did; I was embroiled in a nightmare in which I’d been seconded to the International Mars Mission as an astronaut. My map-reading and geocachical skills would be invaluable in getting the spaceships to Mars (as if you can’t see the planet from Earth anyway). But my main responsibility on the crew would be to look after the dogs. Having dogs in space suits meant that their taking a dump would be tricky for them, and with the eyes of the world on the mission, I wouldn’t be able to hoof any turds into the undergrowth (not that there’s much undergrowth on Mars). The Prime Minister himself was telling me what an honour it all was, and that he had every confidence that I would work out the piddling details.

What was that all about?

I scoffed toast, rolled my eyes at the Internet, and checked in on what was happening in the shitbox rally on the other side of the world. “Sharon” had sprung a leak and run out of petrol, but all is well now.

 

I got the dogs onto their leads and we went off to find where I’d left the car, and we set off to Kings Wood for a walk. We took a rather different route today heading through the woods toward the village (rather than away from it), and waked for four and a half miles. Once we were away from the car park we only saw one other group. The bluebells were out; it was really pretty. It was a shame that both Morgan and Bailey rolled in fox poo, but there it is.

As we walked I had a text message from NHS Pensions Retirement Award saying “We have received your NHS Pensions Retirement benefits claim form. We can confirm we have successfully processed your application. A written notification will be issued to you”. That’s a relief… I wonder what it means. I’ve had this sort of message a couple of times already but in both of those cases “successfully processed” actually meant “passed on to the next office”.

There was a minor episode with Treacle when we got back to the car; she was quite seriously slobbering. Was she thirsty? Had she eaten something foul? She’d been acting odd last night – over-excited and restless. I shall keep an eye on her…Dogs, eh? Who’d have ‘em.

 

We came home. Treacle had the brekkie at which she’d turned her nose up at earlier (which was a result) and Morgan and Bailey had a bath. If you roll in poo, you have a bath, Rules is rules.

We then had a cuppa and a Belgian bun. An Asda one. It tasted OK, but most of the icing had stuck to the packaging.

I popped to B&Q. On the way I knocked in the door of the house with the bricks in the garden, but again they didn’t want to answer the door. So I bit the bullet and paid hard cash for new bricks. Sixty-six pence per brick. And I got some plants as well. Pansies, lobelia, violas and a peony.

I brought them home, moved a huge concrete core out of the yard, and then seeing that “er indoors ^TM” was on lunch break we put the new garden table together. Once we figured out what went where it was rather straightforward, but figuring that out took some doing. Anyone who could write decent instructions could make a fortune.

I then moved the plant pots I’d acquired on Saturday into place, transplanted plants about, put compost into the old planter, planted more plants, heaved the concrete core the length of the garden to add it to the rockery, and realizing the afternoon was nearly all done and I’d only done half I had planned, I said “sod it” and came indoors.

 

I then boiled up dinner myself. It came out rather well if I do say so myself. We washed it down wit a bottle of Lidl white wine. Billed as “zesty and vibrant” it wasn’t bad, really. As we scoffed we watched a couple of episodes of “Hunted”; a rather good show which I am sure I could do better than most of the contestants.

 

I really hurt. Having done a few sums the concrete core I shifted today weighs about sixty kilograms. My original plan was to have the first fruit of my loin shift it for me, but he went fishing.

He ain’t daft.

15 April 2024 (Monday) - Stuff

I had a rather restless night alternating between night sweats and shivering, and woke about five o’clock with a rather grim hangover.

I got up, went to the loo and found one of the dogs had beat me to it; there were two piles of poop by the back door. I suppose whoever it was had tried to get outside.

 

I made toast, and watched the first episode of the Sky TV documentary about UFOs. Fortunately fast-forwarding through the adverts cut an hour-long program down to forty minutes. The first episode could be summed up in a few seconds… Most UFOs aren’t U at all. Most can be explained. However quite a few can’t be explained, and there is an international conspiracy to ensure that  anyone who takes these seriously gets laughed at.

I then tuned in to the Internet to see how the Foxy Morons were doing. Overnight there had been no updates. Was this because there is no Internet signal in the outback, or because their shitbox “Sharon” had conked out?

 

As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about some report into child poverty in the UK which has just been published. Some woman was being interviewed on the subject. I wish I could remember who she was; she made the earth-shattering observation that if children's parents have a job them children are less likely to be in poverty. Would you believe it? These people get paid for working out stuff like this, you know.

And there was an interview with some confrontational Israeli who started off by saying what a peaceful bunch his people are, but went on to boast about how aggressive they can be (as though that was a good thing). He ranted on about the recent attack on Israel in which the RAF shot down a number of drones for them. Like the Ukrainian chap being interviewed last week, this chap felt it was his personal right to have the rest of the world financing their war.

 

Pausing only briefly to cap two QrewZees I made my way to work. There was cake, which is always a good thing. I have no idea where the cake came from; a load of rather good obviously home-made buns appears in the rest room, and I just scoffed one.

It would be rather easy to assassinate me - just leave poisoned food laying about and I will quite happily scoff it.

 

With work done I came home and again had to park two streets away. I took the opportunity to knock on the door of the house with all the bricks in the garden. Again no one answered the door.

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a decent bit of dinner and went bowling. I watched the second episode of the UFO documentary; this featured some chap from the US Navy who saw a UFO and went mental.

I don’t think I shall bother with the final two episodes.

 

14 April 2024 (Sunday) - Early Shift... or A Rest

“Darcie Waa Waa ^TM” got her name from the constant crying she once did one night. Whenever she stays over she goes one of two ways – either sleeps like a log or screams all night long. I *think* I heard some whinging around midnight, but other than that either she was quiet or I slept through it.

 

As I peered into the Internet this morning I saw my grandson hadn’t slept that well – he’d been WhatsApp-ing silly You-Tube videos to me with the messages time-stamped at half past two.

I wonder if his mother knows?

I’m not telling her.

I also saw someone with whom I used to work many years ago was taking part in the Shit Box Rally; a charity event in which you drive an old wreck of a car thousands of miles. Adelaide to Perth via Uluru is a trip of three and a half thousand kilometers – that’s over three times the length of the UK. Her team – the Foxy Morons – are travelling in a knackered car called “Sharon” and are currently on the second day of an eight day trip.

You can sponsor her by clicking here.

 

With “er indoors ^TM” and the dogs all upstairs in the attic room with littlun, I got dressed with the light on which was something of a novelty. I set off to find my car; looking in people's gardens for bricks as I went. My plans for a water garden will need a few bricks to bodge the waterfall into place. I found quite a few bricks in one garden but wasn't quite brave enough to nick them.

 

As I drove to work there was what could have been an interesting program on the radio about assisted dying. Whether or not someone should be allowed to end their own life is something of a moral minefield. It was a shame that the panel discussing the matter consisted of an Imam, a Rabbi, a priest and some other religious crackpot. Everything they said or discussed or considered was entirely dependent on their religious ideas; few of which seemed to have any basis is common sense. Why does ethics and morality go hand in hand with crackpot religious nonsense? The question was then asked that if it is up to god when someone dies (which was about the only thing the panel could agree on), then why do we have hospitals? The panel struggled to answer this; but eventually formed a consensus that apparently gods don't mind people being kept alive, it's the dying they are more concerned about.

This was followed by the farming program which featured an article about some management consultancy firm which was buying out leases of smaller farms and sacking the tenant farmers who didn't subscribe to their ways of talking in management catchphrases. Those being given the elbow were of the opinion that there is more to running a farm than spouting nonsensical management-speak that means nothing to anyone. It turns out they were right. There's an old adage: "fine words butter no parsnips". It would seem that fine words don't grow any either.

 

I drove up a motorway which was surprisingly busy at quarter to seven on a Sunday morning. As I drove I watched the antics of a school minibus which looked like it was being driven by a committee of schoolkids judging by the way it was going far too slowly up the middle lane with occasional swerves here and there. I got past it at the earliest opportunity; the thing was full of schoolkids. I can't help but wonder what they were up to so early on a Sunday.

 

I got to work. I can't pretend I wanted to work today, but if I hadn't been working at work I would have been working in the garden, and there's a lot less heavy lifting in a hospital blood bank.

I came home via the house in whose garden there were bricks. I knocked on the door to ask if I might have them, but there was no answer.

“My Boy ^TM” suggested I might get old bricks from Facebook Marketplace. Old second-hand used bricks are of sale on Facebook Marketplace at fifteen pence per brick more than I can get new ones in B&Q.

 

“er indoors ^TM” boiled up a steak dinner which we washed down with a bottle of merlot. Perhaps that’s why I’m so tired? Today was certainly a lot less arduous than a non-working day… but it did start three hours earlier.

13 April 2024 (Saturday) - Dog Club, Gardening, Sleepover

This morning there were a few rants on Facebook as there usually is. Someone was ranting about how the Chinese are flooding the market with cheap caviar and so what was once a posh delicacy only for the elite is being scoffed by the masses who probably don’t appreciate it. The implication being that if the great unwashed are scoffing caviar, then the pretentious need to find something else to pretend they like which is beyond the price range of the proles. I’m reminded of a rather nasty woman with whom I used to work who went to the opera regularly because she could afford to do so; not because she liked it.

There was also another rant about why should children shouldn’t have to conform at school but find their own way instead. The wife of a very good friend of mine did exactly that with her children. She took them out of mainstream school and “educated” them at home. One did nothing but play tennis and watch You-Tube videos all day long, and the other got to mid-teens and still couldn’t read.

Perhaps I shouldn’t look at Facebook in the mornings; it just boils my piss.

 

“er indoors ^TM” was off to craft club this morning so I took the dogs to Dog Club where we had a rather good turn out this morning. The dogs had a whale of a time. There was a minor episode when a new dog was rather overwhelmed and frightened, but it seemed to sort itself out. I didn’t get involved; there were already enough people in the throng.

As we drove home I listened to Steve doing the Mystery Year competition. The Brittas Empire and the first Brit in space… 1992? No - I was one year out.

 

We went via “My Boy ^TM”’s house. He’s decking his garden and said he had a few small rocks I might have.  I got the rocks, came home and used them. The splash pool which holds the pond’s bog filter is periodically overflowing. Yesterday “er indoors ^TM” hit on the idea that it is too flat, so I had a minor disassembly, then without taking all the plants and water out I managed to lift its back and pop the small rocks in behind to raise the back up a bit. I then put it all back together and it seems to be OK. But I thought that a week or so ago when I supposedly fixed the leak (but hadn’t). Time will tell – it always does.

I then had a minor pootle about moving stone planters and generally tidying up before having a look in the shed. Assuming that today’s fix to the bog filter has worked (here’s hoping) I’m left with five sleepers I don’t need. Bearing in mind I’ve already painted them I can’t get a refund. And having negotiated a rock-bottom price for the waterfall I now probably don’t need, asking for a refund would be a bit cheeky. So having wasted the thick end of a hundred quid I had an idea about building a small water garden. All I needed was a pump. I found two pond pumps and a pond air pump in the shed.

And then I had stroke of inspiration. I could turn one of my current water features into a flower bed, move another over a bit, and use an existing pump for my water garden. All I would need would be another sleeper. So I popped over to Wickes to get a sixth sleeper.

As I came home I saw the people in a house down the road were giving away a couple of unwanted flower pots. I had those.

 

By then seven hours had passed, and “er indoors ^TM” arrived with “Darcie Waa Waa ^TM” who had come for a little sleepover. Dog snogging, singing songs, not eating our dinner, wreaking mayhem… the usual.

As I type this she’s wandering around scoffing a banana whilst telling the dogs off for no reason that anyone can fathom. But the dogs don’t care - they absolutely adore her and follow her every move.

 

I’m going to work (hopefully) for a rest tomorrow.

12 April 2024 (Friday) - Early Shift

I woke in a bit of a panic following a rather vivid dream in which my old PE Teacher was demanding to know why hospitals send certain blood tests to specialist laboratories rather than testing them themselves. What was that all about?

Being on an early shift and not being awake quite as early as usual I skipped watching telly and peered into the Internet as I scoffed toast. There was a lot of consternation on one of the Dad's Army Facebook pages I follow. Yesterday someone had posted a photo of some of the cast sitting in a pub all with a pint of beer each. Someone else had reported the photos as going against Facebook's community standards and had the photo removed. I resisted the temptation to get involved; on-line arguments rarely achieve much. But again we see the farcical nature of Facebook's community standards. Having reported stuff myself I now have first had experience that a link to a close-up of a lady's lady bits doesn't breach their standards whilst a photo of three old men having a drink does.

And on the Facebook page I follow about UK footpaths and rights of way there was a lot of indignation being expressed about how someone got a Facebook suspension for mentioning a path which follows Offa's Dyke.

And there was a beach hut for sale on a beach near Hastings. Thirty eight thousand pounds for the shed and eight hundred quid a year for ongoing unspecified expenses.... that's more than my first house cost. We once borrowed a beach hut for an afternoon. By the end of the afternoon we'd had more than enough of it.

 

I set off to work. Whilst I'd been eating my toast so the seagulls had been squawking; as I walked down the road they'd shut their rattle and the sparrows were all hollering. I'd never before noticed that the birds don't all sing the dawn chorus together.

I made my way to work via nineteen Points of Interest and four QrewZees; there's never a dull moment in Munzee. As I drove I listened to the radio. The pundits were interviewing some windbag about why economic forecasts are invariably wrong. It turns out that when making an economic forecast, those making the predictions look at the current situation, consider what the rules governing economics say, and then pontificate. However it would seem that economics is blissfully unaware of these rules. It has been suggested that the so-called experts revisit cause and effect in economic theory as it seems that the causes aren't giving the effects they are supposed to.  Perhaps someone might like to do the same for weather forecasting?

And there was a lot of talk about food security... farmers are worried that they can't grow crops if their fields are flooded, and matters aren't being helped by insurance companies refusing to pay compensation as the flooded farms are "too far" from the rivers doing the flooding.

Seriously? I would have thought that you couldn't get much closer than being directly under or in the river.

 

I got to work. Without going into details, I’ll just make the observation that looking back at my many years of being in charge, I am far happier letting someone else sort the problems.

In between this and that I was asked if I'd like to be in the sweepstake for tomorrow's Grand National race. My horse is Latenightpass which has odds of 28/1.

I might win.

I also spoke to the pension people who assure me my paperwork has progressed to the stage where it is being processed. I suppose that's a step in the right direction. It's further along than when I last enquired.

 

I did my bit; I came home. Via the pond shop. Wanting a waterfall for my next pond project I'd already phoned Aylesford Aquatics as that place is only a five-minute drive from work. They said that they don't keep waterfalls in stock, but if I told them what they wanted they could get it in for me. I resisted the temptation to tell them that I too could get stuff directly from Amazon, cut out the middle man and get it cheaper. So I drove to Dobbies garden centre instead. They had one left. An ex-demo one they offered to me at half price. I offered a fiver less, brought the thing home and spent some time puzzling jut how I might get the waterfall bit to work.

Rather annoyingly “er indoors ^TM” then hit on the frankly genius idea of lifting up the back of the existing splash pool. The problem I’ve got is that the sides of the splash pool are too low. Hopefully lifting up the back will solve that issue. I will have a major job to lift it up, but it will still be easier than building a whole new splash pool.

This entirely does away with the need for the new sleepers and the waterfall. But “nil desperandum” (as a dead Roman might say); I’ve an idea what I might make with those.

 

“er indoors ^TM” then went off to visit Sarah. I stayed with the dogs. As time goes by I’m getting less and less keen on leaving them alone. We sat together and watched the last episodes of “Cleaning Up” which was rather good.

 

Today has been rather relaxing compared to the last few days.

11 April 2024 (Thursday) - Another Busy Day

I had something of a lie-in this morning. Over toast I had my usual root around the Internet as I do. An old friend’s younger brother was posting photos from his time at our old school. Apart from formal photos, I don’t think I’ve got any photos from my time at secondary school.

One of the major changes in my life has been the availability of photographs. Back in the day cameras had film. A camera could take only so many photos and then you had to take the thing to a shop, leave it with them and collect the photos a few days later. Consequently photography was something of an arse-ache. These days you point your phone, upload to whichever social media you fancy, and within seconds everyone could see what you’d been up to.

I spent a few minutes looking at pictures of pre-formed waterfall segments. That might be exactly what I need for my Bog Filter Mk II, but they ain’t cheap. I shall go to a couple of pond shops to see the things in reality before I hand over hard cash.

 

Leaving in the washing machine doing its thing I got the dogs into the car and we set off for our walk. As I drove “In Our Time” was on the radio, Sometimes that show is fascinating and interesting and captivating. Today it was tedious in the extreme; utterly dull drivel about whether or not women went to the theatre in ancient Greece.

I switched over to my music and sang along to Ivor Biggun songs instead.

We got to the woods and had a good walk. The car park was quite full; there were loads of people with small children playing about in the hundred yards surrounding the car park, but once we were away from there we walked for four miles without seeing anyone else at all. As we walked I tested out one of the apps on my watch; one mile is near enough two thousand two hundred of my steps. Three miles was six thousand six hundred and one steps.

 

We came home. As the dogs had their brekkie I hung out the washing, then made myself a cuppa. “Daddy’s Little Angel ^TM” phoned. Pogo had been to the vets where he had crapped on their floor twice and pissed up their counter. Much as I love him, he really can be a twatbag sometimes.

I painted up the sleepers that I bought yesterday. Treacle wouldn’t stop rubbing up against what I’d just painted.

I then ironed. As I ironed I watched a couple of episodes of “Cleaning Up”; a rather good Netflix drama, then went out to feed the fish. That bog filter was overflowing again…

And then my phone beeped. A couple of days ago I’d created an EarthCache based on the sink holes in Kings Wood. The geo-feds had accepted what I’d done.

 

“er indoors ^TM” came home and boiled up sausages and chips. As we scoffed them so my phone beeped again. A First to Find on my new Earthcache less than two hours after it went live. Bering in mind that there were two places to visit in the woods, and both were over a mile into the woods (as the crow flies) that was rather impressive.

 

I’m going to work tomorrow… for a rest.