Gorram it read the signs!

This morning I woke up with a pounding headache, I didn’t sleep too well. I think I was a bit restless due to the disruptions with the household. Still normal service has been resumed and a certain little chap has headed off to stay with a friend and tomorrow he heads off to what will, hopefully, be his forever home. I have to admit that I’m missing the little fella; he’s such a playful and happy pup that he will bring a lot of joy in his new home. Fortunately we’ll get regular updates on how he’s doing so it won’t be too bad.

At the shop today, two victories to the Necrons, woo hoo! I’m starting to think that I should have concentrated on them as a primary army as opposed to the Space Marines. Although I don’t think we were as busy today numbers wise, we were very busy.

Anyway, on with todays rant! Oh no here we go again I hear you cry with despair, but yup there’s a rant coming, and this one’s about law breakers.

For those who don’t know, Hythe high street is a pedestrian area between 11 am and 3 pm. There’s usually a gate that gets closed by the local rozzer, but recently he’s been a bit lapse in his duty and the gate hasn’t been closed on Saturday. Despite the fact that there’s something like three signs clearly explaining that there’s no access for vehicles between these time people seem to think that if the gates open then it’s ok for them to drive along the high street and sound their horn and hurl obscenities and the people who are walking in the middle of the road. Oddly enough the majority of the offenders seem to be the older road user driving Jags, BMWs and high end Mercs. The other type are people driving MPVs, whilst I acknowledge that not all MPV drivers are complete twonks who think they’re above the law, there’s a few who give the decent road users a bad rep. Sometimes I find the whole situation on the high street amusing, there have been times when old folk have almost come to blows over who can and can’t drive along the high street. The best one yet was when a fella, of quite mature years, took it upon himself to run over a sign that was blocking the entrance to the road. When the owner of the sign had a bit of a rant at him he started threatening all manner of things, including fetching his son down to have “words” with the signs owner. Then there was the fella who, realising that he couldn’t drive along the high street, decided to turn his car around and drive the wrong way along the road. When he discovered the gate shut and locked he was going to drive onto the pavement with the intention of squeezing a four and a half feet wide car through a four feet wide gap. When I explained to him that what he was attempting was not only physically impossible but also illegal, he questioned my parental lineage and suggested that I may be an unintelligent copulating habitual masturbator. I was shocked; I never expected to hear such things from a man of the cloth!

After club 40k, ooh that makes it sound a bit saucy, I headed home for tea and Doctor Who, though not in that order, without giving too much away, it’s a bit of a shock ending.

So there you have it, a rant has ranted and I sign off for the night.

Fair thee well all.

I’m totally sonic me!

Yesterday I took a trip to Dover, headed to Argos to acquire an eleventh Doctors sonic screwdriver. Being successful in my quest I waited at the bus stop for a bus home, I did my usual thing of gazing into the river Dour, watching the brown trout doing its own thing. It’s quite relaxing and I like the Dour, Ok it’s not the tidal estuary it once was but it’s nice to know that the river’s recovering from the pollution of the last century. I’m going to go to Dover again and walk the river from Kearsney to the docks. It’s been many years since I’ve done that, I may even stop off on the way for an ice cream.

I got back home and put the batteries in my new toy and waved it about a bit. It’s well made and seems quite sturdy, considering the target user I guess it should be. Anyway it occurred to me that as I now have replicas of the last three doctors’ screwdrivers, River Song future sonic and the Masters laser screwdriver, I need some sort of display stand for them. So when I arrived at work this morning I set about designing one. The early stages were simple, I have access to a fully kitted out wood work shop. So putting the thing together was no problem. I then had the rather clever idea of making the stand appear to be made from coral, just like the interior of the TARDIS, with the help of one of my colleagues and a couple of scoops of something called bonding coat, which was slapped liberally over the wood and then patted into a roughened finish with a dustpan brush. When it’s painted it should look rather good.

Whist working on my masterpiece I was called out to the courtyard, I found a workmate chatting to a lady from the RSPCA. He mumbled something about a complaint about the goldfish we keep at work, then started chatting to girly about sparrows. At this point I figured that a sparrow had been injured and somebody had called the RSPCA to rescue it, so I went back to what I was doing. A few minutes later I was asked to go speak to the lady about the fish. It turned out my colleague wasn’t joking and there had been a complaint made about them. I was advised to get the two largest fish into a larger tank of their own or get them re-homed to a pond or similar environment. Simple enough, unfortunately when said lady arrived I was preparing to carry out the weekly maintenance on the tank, so it wasn’t looking as pristine as usual which is a shame as the tank is well maintained and the fish look, and are, healthy. The brightness of their colours is a bit of a good indication, and the fact that one of them lost all of its fins through rot only to grow them all back except the tail flukes. Whilst I’m aware that they need a bigger tank, the two larger ones are living in much better conditions than they were. The thing that puzzles me the most is who made the complaint in the first place? It’s obviously someone with more time on their hands than they need, if the only things they have to worry about are a few fish. Well I hope that they’re happy now, the fish bring a great deal of pleasure to the guys, some sit watching them for ages, now they won’t have that little moment. Well done you miserable git! After speaking with the PTB’s it has been decided to re-home the fish completely, I may have convinced the missus to let me have them at her place, and the two big boys may have a pond they can go to, Here’s hoping. Otherwise if any of my readers know of someone who would be up for caring for some well looked after goldfish, contact by leaving your email and I’ll get in touch, or you can email me at the usual address. I’ll post a pic of the tank either tomorrow or Sunday.

Until then, glug, glug, glug.

Oh for humps sake SMILE!

I set off for work this morning, a little later than I should, and missed the bus I should be on in order to get there before 9. Oops! I stood waiting for the next one and pondered various things like the weather, what to do about lunch, and whether fringe was recorded last night. The bus arrived and I stepped aboard with my usual joviality, only to be greeted by the most miserable bus driver in the multiverse. I swear if this man had even attempted to point the corners of his mouth upwards, his face really would have broken. He glanced at my pass with the absolute indifference, I’m not even sure he noticed if it was in date. We moved on to the next stop where a lass who was quite easy on the eye got on, told misery guts where she wanted to go, she put her dosh in the tray next to him, he picked it up then virtually threw her change at her. This was more or less repeated for everyone who got on the bus. When I get off the bus I make a point of thanking the driver. Where this chap was concerned, I was half tempted to offer him a handful of my antidepressants and a bottle of vodka. Fortunately they’re not all unpleasant, most of the local drivers are quite amiable and usually have a jolly greeting themselves. I’m sure it’s a taxing job and doubtless it must get quite monotonous, particularly on the local services. They just drive around in a huge circle all day. Captain Grumpy however was coming back from Dover; you’d think that was reason enough to be a bit cheerful. But no, I’m fairly convinced that he spent the rest of the day being his morose old self. If you’re not the sort of person who interacts well with people, why on earth are you doing a job that means you’re doing just that, he probably doesn’t like driving large vehicles either, or handling cash.

In a complete change of rant, I wonder how many people are aware that when they buy a game for their mobile, if they upgrade the phone and they want that game on the new phone, you have to buy the game again. Does this not seem a little unfair? Surely this is a bit like buying a game for an x-box, wanting to play the exact same game on another x-box, but having to buy another copy of the game. It’s a bit of a con really; you buy something but sort of don’t actually own it. Surely these mobile phone companies make enough money from monthly fees and the PAYG services to be able to allow you to transfer a game, you spent good money on, to a phone with the same OS? Yes, I know I’m being a ranty thing but sometimes things infuriate me so much that I feel I have to let off steam, after all isn’t that the point of having a blog?

When I arrived home today I settled down in front the telly for a couple of hours, at about 7ish my phone started going bonkers, the missus was, apparently, desperate to contact me. When I finally got to talk to her she babbled something about someone being on there way up and I was needed there ASAP, oh it’s nice to be wanted. It transpired that the someone who was in Hythe was Eileen from TLDR, this meant only one of two things, A: something was drastically wrong with Molly or B: we were about to have extra canine company. Given the fact that Tea wasn’t blubbing like a blubby thing, it was clear that Molly was OK. I guess the arrival of a dog was imminent. Oh joy, I headed up this hill, and less than ten minutes after I got home², Eileen arrived with Harry, a wire haired Jack Russell, he’s staying for a day or two until a permanent foster can be found. Harry is about 18 months old, very cute and, I suspect, part Tigger. Bouncy isn’t the word for it, he went into the garden for a, well what dogs tend to do in the garden, and was up and down like a mad thing. At one point he jumped sideways over the low wall onto the grass. He needs a lot of exercise but he’s very sociable and affectionate. There’s a pic on this blog to show his royal cuteness off. So if any of my readers know of anyone who can offer a loving home to a very friendly young pup, please get in touch and let me know and I’ll put them in touch with TLDR.

Fringe didn’t record by the way, I think it got replaced by the final episode of lost, something I plan to watch, even if only to see how it all ends.

That’s about all for now, thank you for reading.

TTFN