Custard’s last stand

20180319_090319 While they were on the school run this morning, Readers, I had a look through the food cupboard and found a carton of custard, which I threw on the lounge floor.  I also spotted a plastic bag with some carrot ends in, ready to give the rabbit next door, so I ate those and chucked the plastic bag in the lounge as well.  The diagram above shows how I positioned things on the carpet.  Now, please note that I did NOT rip open the carton of custard, to blend nicely with the chopped tomato stains (see previous blog), but will I get any thanks for that?  Of course not. She huffed and puffed while putting the custard back in the cupboard, so I thought it would be funny to get it out again this afternoon, while She was on the school pick-up.  I threw in one of her socks for good measure.  It was funny, Readers.  Made me laugh.  I’ve been in one of those moods today – you can’t help it, sometimes.  When I got back from my walk I was really, really muddy and I waited till her back was turned, and legged it up the stairs.  She thought I was being a Good Boy in my bed in the kitchen.  Wrong.  Young Lad’s sheets and duvet cover had been taken off for washing, so there was just his fluffy 13.5 tog duvet on the bed.  It looked so warm on this chilly day, so I jumped on and walked up and down until I found the right spot for a kip.  There was some shouting and sighing when the state of the white 13.5 tog duvet was realised, and I was pushed off rather firmly.  Now, we learned something today, Friends.  Young Lad’s 13.5 tog duvet doesn’t really fit in the washing machine, even if you shove it in and put your full weight against the door until it clicks. Yes, in theory the machine does fill with water and strange sounds can be heard, but there is no room for proper washing and certainly no room for spin cycle.  I tried not  to laugh when She took the duvet out and it was saturated, and so heavy it was barely movable.  There was some valiant struggling down the garden path, and an effort worthy of a Russian weightlifter to lift it above her head and hang it over the goalpost. Too funny.  It’s still sopping wet and will be until July.

Had a good walk this morning – there was still a lot of snow around on the ground, and I really have had enough of it now.  The only good thing about it is that I can’t be seen, especially in Far Field, where I blend in completely.  It’s really amusing watching the panicky screeching and puzzled squinting around, trying to spot me.20180319_094751 In this diagram, I can be seen standing still and camouflaging myself so that any Pack Leader with dodgy eyesight over the other side of the field can’t see me. It was a beautiful day, with a blue sky and sunshine, but so so cold, Readers.  This can’t be right for the middle of March.  The wind was glacial, and my ears kept flapping out which is both undignified and painful.   Nicedogwalkerlady and her husband were down there with their  brown labradors, and they told me to keep up the good work in terms of my poor behaviour at home. I also saw dear, dear Chuck and his coat looked better than ever  – so shiny and full.  He really is in marvellous condition. Greek yogurt, apparently.  Now Chuck and I do like to appreciate each other’s backsides, but we don’t always time this right and it sometimes coincides with one of us lifting our leg.  One has to duck out quickly from this position, otherwise one gets an unusual kind of shower. Chuck’s Pack Leader had a name for this, but I didn’t really understand.  Anyway, I digress.  I was marched at full speed for 3.2 miles today, and our speed/distance quotient was quite good as we didn’t stop to talk to people much.  Sociable. Over the bridge and round Top Field, we stomped in time to, “Saturday Night at the Movies” by The Drifters.  Who cares what picture you see? Awful grammar, by the way.  Then we went through Far Field as well, so it was good long one today.  I was exhausted.

But back to yesterday!  I went for lunch at Grandma’s house, as you know, and I was really, really hoping that the Huge Lasagne and Baileys Chocolate cheesecake would go flying across the car when He braked.  Sadly they didn’t.  I had a lovely time, as the Derby Chicks were there and had bought me a large rawhide bone thing.  This kept me quiet for ages.  I did pop into the dining room while they were having lunch, but Lad was holding forth at the dinner table about Russia, Wet Sham’s management mistakes, and all the other things about which he knows so much.  Honestly, there is no escape from it. So dreary.  I could only put up with the conversation for so long, and went back to an armchair in the lounge for a kip. I’d been told off when we arrived, for going straight out in the garden for a comfort break.  Apparently this is impolite, to deposit things on Grandma’s snow-covered lawn the minute we get there.  What’s a chap to do?  At least it was easy to find, and it wasn’t my fault that the poo bags had fallen off my lead and were somewhere in the car.  Well, Grandma was very pleased to try the Baileys Chocolate cheesecake at long last, having heard so bldy much about it on my blog. Plus she was very understanding about the ripped paper on her birthday present – that’s what happens if you put it in the boot with me. 

Once we came home, Young Lad and Lad had to knuckle down to their homework, and I went out for my long walk.  This was fab, as coming back from Far Field I spotted dear, dear Pippa in the distance and I ran like the wind to catch up with her.  Oh how we romped, leaping over each other, or, in fact, mostly Pippa leaping on me.  How she knocked me half way across the field, and how we laughed. It is a wonder my bones are still in one piece, but I do love her.  Once home, Young Lad had to listen to Symphony no 40 by Mozart and write all about the texture. timbre, dynamics and pitch.  Readers, this was a learning experience for all of us. 

Lad is working hard tonight on, you guessed it, Chemistry revision.  He is cross and shouting what the heck a lot, as he didn’t think alkali shows as purple on the Universal Indicator, and feels they’ve got it wrong.  In fact, Lad has got it wrong, but he may struggle with this as a concept.  Young Lad is watching Rookie Blue, now that Chicago Fire has finally been exhausted, and it is fairly peaceful.  His duvet is now on the hall radiator, sopping wet, and the summer 7.5 tog duvet is on his bed tonight.  Poor Young Lad.  Lad has just shouted, “ah, formulation!”  I am concerned that he is developing Tourettes or some such thing. Poor Lad.

I’m off to visit Sicknote tomorrow.  I’ve been told to be more sociable than I was last time.

See you soon,

Russell

 

Author: boredbeagle

Slightly stocky beagle who lives with a family. This is She, He, Lad and Young Lad. And Gingercat. Generally doesn't get enough attention and so writes this blog to let everyone know what his life is like. You need to start from page one (First Attempt).. Go on, it's worth the effort.

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