The Agony of Sunday Working
Ouch, it is Sunday morning, hello world! Don’t forget to put yer clocks back!
Sadly I have to do some work today, work I really should have finished months ago. I put a central heating boiler into my Aunt’s house earlier in the year, along with a couple of radiators to keep the chill off, and was supposed to go back in a week or two to finish it off. But time travels slowly in Devon, and I am just getting around to it today! It’s odd how I am pretty diligent with regard to doing jobs for complete strangers, but when it comes to jobs in the house, or for the family, I can put it off, and put it off, and put it off.
Still, I suppose it will keep me out of mischief for a while. Thankfully I do not have any kind of hangover from last night’s visit to the pub. With my gorgeous girlfriend, and my wee cousin in tow, a few gentle hours were spent in the Railway Inn, Saltash. The lager was rather lame, but the company made up for it. I miss going to pubs, it is something I used to do a great deal once upon a time.
I met some interesting characters last night, and one in particular deserves a mention. I can’t recall his name, but as soon as he heard my thick Scottish brogue he began regaling me with tales of his adventures in Scotland in the dim and distant. He asked if I had ever worked in Faslane, the Base for the UK’s nuclear weapons. He seemes nonplussed when I showed him my hat with it’s plethora of CND badges, anti-war badges, and white Peace Poppy. Apparently he used to work on nuclear submarines, and had spent some considerable time in the Middle East. I don’t half meet them when I go out!
Anyway, he went on to tell me that the only reason he worked on nuclear subs, and in the war industry in general, was because “it was a job”. He took pains to tell me that the most rewarding job he had ever had, was when he worked in a factory making toilet paper. At least, he told me, this was “something useful and productive”. He seemed to have great respect for the politics of the anti-war, anti-nuclear crowd. All in all, he seemes like a pretty decent chap. That’ll be one less person giving the finger, or shouting “get a job” at the next demonstration/vigil/action in Plymouth.
Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.