Loud and floral

s-l640 A large person has just walked past my house, Readers, wearing a very loud, flowery top.  There was a lot of this top and it was somewhat gaudy. They walked much too close to my car, and I had no choice but to bark hysterically at them.  I felt sure that an item of clothing as large and forbidding as this meant there was going to be trouble.   Thankfully they carried on up the road, clearly put off by my scary bark.

As you can tell, I am feeling better.  The drugs given to me by the Evil Vet on Monday were something else, and it took me over twenty-four hours to recover. My pupils are still a little on the dilated side even now, if truth be told, but I am able to hold my head up straight again.  I’m still limping slightly, mostly for effect, but am in better shape than in my previous blog.  Honestly, fancy drugging me like that! No wonder that particular drug is locked away safely at the Evil Vet’s. She had to go and pay the bill today –  please note it is now three days since She should have paid the bill, but was too scared to.  Thankfully the Evil Vet’s bill was actually not as bad as expected, because they are in fact Wonderful Vets who never over-charge, rather than Evil, which is simply my opinion.  I certainly hope I don’t go through that experience again.

Yesterday was sad because Nana aged 87 went home.  I had enjoyed having her here, and many of the weeds in the garden have now been removed.  Young Lad and She drove Nana aged 87 half-way home, where they met Funnygit the brother and swapped over.  Then Young Lad and She had a splendid hour sitting in a traffic jam before even reaching the motorway. They seem to do this a lot.  To while away the hours, they put on the 1970s Cd and say loudly and tunelessly along to “I love to love,” and the such like.  I’m  very glad I was at home with Lad during this, where it was much quieter and more tasteful.  Two hours later they arrived home, and She had to go straight back bldy out again, as Lad had bldy failed to tell her that his medication had bldy well run out.  There was a gentle chat about taking responsibility for one’s own bldy medication at Lad’s bldy age. As you can tell, patience was wearing a little thin.

Then there was barely enough time to knock up a quick risotto before Young Lad had cricket training. I was taken to cricket, Readers, as I hadn’t had a walk for several days due to the drugs.  What a lovely evening we had, wandering slowly round the boundary  a couple of times, with no rushing and shouting.  I was allowed to sniff at leisure and managed to find some bird poo.  This is rare, Readers, and was only because I was still limping a bit.  The kindness won’t last. We drove Young Lad’s friend home after cricket training, and subjected him and I to loud, bad singing of the Jackson Five etc.  It was shocking, and the poor boy went and told his mother about it.

Today has been fun.  This morning I slept in my chair while Lad did some revising (though this now coincides with a New Scheme to make money using the stock markets and his mobile phone.  I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing but top marks for trying.)  Young Lad was watching a Harry Potter film, and She went to meet Loadsakids for coffee.  This was greatly needed, it seems, and they spent the hour doing the usual what have your teenagers/dogs been doing to drive you insane, and lots of murmuring sympathy for each other. She complained about the bad behaviour of Lad, Young Lad and myself, whilst Loadsakids reported incidents of siblings hitting each other over the head with the Xbox remote control. Somehow a coffee with Loadsakids always puts a spring in her step, and perspective in her life, and there was a nicer atmosphere when She came back.  This didn’t last, however, as it was discovered that the laptop has helpfully done a Windows 10 update, whatever that is, and now half the stuff is missing, including the ability to connect to the internet.  This is vexing in the extreme, and required a visit to the computer hospital. where it has been booked in for an expensive reinstall tomorrow.  Whilst trying to park there, another driver gave her a cross look as She hadn’t parked well, so She reversed off and tried again.  This was a mistake.  Some misjudgement was made and the side of the car scraped along the wall.  There is very little paintwork left on our car now.  Oh dear.

Then, Readers, the highlight of my day!  I was taken visiting to her friends Batch, Mrs Batch and Baby Batch.  This was wonderful.  For nearly two hours I lay on the floor and had my tummy rubbed, was told how wonderful I am, and generally looked after properly.  There was an unfortunate moment when Baby Batch tried to hoover me up with his toy Dyson, but apart from that it was fabulous. She of course ignored me, working hard with Batch on a Top Secret Project that I’m not allowed to tell you about.  It’s totally absurd but there you are.  The good thing about the Batch house is that Baby Batch drops food under his highchair, on his highchair and around his highchair, so I very  kindly cleaned everywhere up for them.  It was nice.  I licked the skirting boards for them, too.  I think they were pleased about this.  What a fun, different couple of hours.

Tomorrow Young Lad has been promised a trip to Solo: Star Wars with his friends, which will involve a lot of hanging around in car parks waiting for the film to finish.  Lad has been promised a trip to the shopping centre, to buy a suit.  This will be his first ever suit and is an Important Moment.  Lad will need a suit for the party once the bldy GCSEs are over – will they ever be? – and for Work Experience.  Lad is not keen on going shopping for a suit tomorrow, and has expressed this politely. She says they bldy are going.  He says they’re bldy not going.  The debate continues.  He will be home from work a bit earlier tomorrow, which will be nice, and I’m hoping He takes me for a gentle walk as She says I’m better now and we can do a four miler. At speed.

Well, I only had a short walk round the Rec today, and I’m tired out.  I think it was the excitement of visiting the Batch house that wore me out, too.

See you soon,



647242936Readers, I don’t know where to start.  I have had a TERRIBLE twenty-four hours!  Yesterday morning I was still limping very badly, and just couldn’t put my front right paw to the ground.  It was extremely painful and I was very subdued, to make it clear that it was very painful.  There was some discussion, after googling out-of-hours vet fees, about whether I could wait until today to see the Evil Vet, thus saving a hefty £109 Bank Holiday fee, or whether it was unkind to leave me in pain for the sake of money.  How nice of them to consider this.  Lad and He both said leave it till tomorrow, just give him some painkillers, but She was overcome with concern for me and took me to the Evil Vet, trying not to think about the out-of-hours fee.  Readers, it was dreadful.  First of all the Evil Vet put a muzzle on me, as I am well-known there for trying to attack, and then started to investigate my paw.  Well.  I screeched whenever she touched me, and in the end the Evil Vet said it can’t all hurt, Russell, stop making a fuss.  I tried hard, Friends, to calm myself down a little, and in the end the Evil Vet established that I screeched most when a slightly swollen part was touched.  Though I did screech if she touched my slightly-split toenail, too.  The verdict was that I have a swollen knuckle, but how this injury happened is a mystery as I simply went from lying to standing, fairly slowly.

You would think that was enough trauma for one morning, but oh no.  The Evil Vet decided that I needed an injection of heavy-duty painkillers, with the warning that I might appear ‘stoned’ for the rest of the day (the Evil Vet and She laughed about this.)  I’ve no idea what this meant.  Then the Evil Vet came at me with a needle.  Despite my muzzle and being wrestled to the ground and sat on by She, I still managed to scream and writhe around as the Evil Vet hovered over me.  She hadn’t yet shoved the needle in, but that’s not the point.  The Evil Vet then said, Russell I haven’t done it yet, you’re not a very brave dog are you, and jabbed the bldy needle in my neck.  I howled in pain and thrashed around the floor of the surgery with She trying to hold onto me.  It was AWFUL.  The Evil Vet remarked that I wasn’t having a very good Bank Holiday so far, but not to worry, as the drugs would soon be working and I’d be in a far happier place.  Now, you would think that this really had been enough trauma for the morning, but oh no.  Do you know what She said then?  As we have to pay Bank Holiday fees, can I get my money’s worth and ask you to squeeze his anal glands while we’re here, as they’re leaking everywhere.  I kid you not, Readers, unbelievable.  And so it was that I was then attacked again by the Evil Vet, this time with KY Jelly smeared fingers up my backside, to have my anal glands drained.  This hurt and I screamed again.  “Get my money’s worth,” for goodness sake!

What a dreadful morning.  Once we returned home, I was ok for about ten minutes, and then the drugs began to work.  Oh my word.  I remember nothing, but I’m told my eyes became liquid pools of unfocused brown, and the pupils disappeared altogether. I sat, with my head hanging down, apparently, for the rest of the day.  Sometimes I lay down, but was completely unable to control the weight of my head and it just hung there.

20180528_164706  I was unable to eat, walk properly, look at anything or function in any way at all.  I have no idea what that drug was, but I imagine it’s normally used for horses or animals ten times my size.  That’s a whole day of my life lost, Readers, as I was far, far away in another galaxy altogether.  On the plus side I didn’t walk on my sore paw for the entire day, which has probably helped it to heal.  The effects of this heavy duty gear has lasted over twenty-four hours, and I’m not completely back to normal yet; though I did run out in the garden and eat some bread from under the bird table just now.  I’m not limping quite as much and She hasn’t phoned up to pay the bill yet, as She is too scared to find out what it is.  Cowardly.

This was all very disappoitning, as we have Nana aged 87 staying with us, and I would normally be much livelier and more fun for a guest.  However, Nana aged 87 hasn’t minded me tripping out on strong medication for much of her stay, and has been very kind to me.  It’s been lovely having her here (as far as I know.)  Today She took Nana aged 87 to Costalotta for lunch, where the baristas were again surprised to see some splashing out on cheese toasties and cups of tea.  This doesn’t usually happen. Nana aged 87 then had to listen to Young Lad’s homework, and everyone agreed he hadn’t done enough.  Young Lad was told to put more effort into it, which is a recurrent theme for him.  Lad has been revising and discussing academic things with Nana aged 87, and has even done useful things like get the washing in when it started raining.  This wouldn’t have happened if Nana aged 87 wasn’t here, and is all for show, to be honest.

Last night, Young Lad had a cricket match.  I wasn’t taken because I was too stoned, so was left here with Lad and Nana aged 87, plus Lovelydor from down the road who came up for a cup of tea.  Lovelydor and Nana aged 87 had a super time, and shouted out orders for sandwiches and cake to Lad, who obligingly did the catering for them.  Lad’s repertoire of sandwiches wasn’t huge – cheese, cheese and pickle, or cheese and ham – but he tried.  What they lacked in finesse (cutting into two big slab-like rectangles isn’t very afternoon tea, in all honesty) they made up for with effort.  There was also lemon drizzle cake and home-made shortbread, but I was too out of it to even clear up the crumbs.  And I like both lemon drizzle and shortbread normally.  

Well. To add insult to injury, they’ve just announced they’re going to Pizza Express for dinner.  This is, again, only because Nana aged 87 is here.  It means there will be no dinner here for me to scrounge, which is a poor show, considering what I have been through in the last twenty-four hours.  I’m lying in my chair pretending I’m still drugged up to the eyeballs, in the hope that they don’t push the lemon drizzle to the back of the working surface while they’re out.

I’m exhausted.  See you soon,



party-clip-art-party109 Well, Readers, you will have noticed the absence of a blog for several nights.  This is due to having been away for a couple of days, as She had another party to attend, and this time Lad, Young Lad and I were taken along as well. This makes a refreshing change, as normally we are dumped with other people or just left here to fend for ourselves.  So it was that yesterday morning, I was put into the boot of the car and off we went.  First of all we had to collect Lad from the friends with whom he had stayed after school on Friday.  Lad had been given strict instructions to be ready at 10.30am sharp, as the bldy Bank Holiday traffic would be a mare.  Lad was not quite ready at 10.30am, Readers, and was wandering around in his boxer shorts brushing his teeth.  Eventually Lad was ready at 11am.  This was not sticking to the original plan.  Additionally, He had taken the bldy satnav to cricket, so we had no bldy satnav with us in the car.  Young Lad was forced to navigate by looking at the phone for directions.  The result of this was that Young Lad then threw up, but being very organised in this respect, he managed to contain it in the special washing detergent pot kept for this purpose.  So it was all a little fraught by the time Lad finally got his backside into the car.

Then, Readers, we did indeed experience Bank Holiday Motorway traffic, and the journey took a little under three hours.  This was punctuated by cries from Lad of, “did you bring my white trainers?” ,  “did you bring my deodrant?”,   “did you bring my hair styling products?” and many more versions of the same. The answer was no in each case, if you’re wondering.  Lad is quite old enough to pack his own bag for a night away, he was told sharply and rather heatedly, during a long tailback at junction 5. I slept throughout this, and behaved impeccably.

Once we arrived at our destination, Lad and Young Lad were thrown out of the car to go and see Nana aged 87, but I was driven for a further five minutes to the beautiful park, where She and I often go after these epic journeys, to have a walk, comfort break and bldy large coffee. I had a lovely walk through the park, but it was extremely hot by now and I couldn’t be bothered to chase the sticks She insisted on throwing for me.  Once in the lovely, cool Big House in the Park, I lay down on the marble floor and had another snooze while coffee was drunk.  I didn’t lay down on the marble floor, however, until I had launched myself under the tables to hoover up any crumbs from breakfast.  Once I’d tidied up every morsel of croissant pastry from under the seats, then I lay down on the cool, marble floor.  

We spent the afternoon at Nana aged 87’s house, where I lay in the garden in the hot sunshine. Lad was supposed to be doing the gardening, but found it tricky to get started for some reason.  With some gentle encouragement, Lad finally pulled a few dandelions up. Young Lad didn’t go quite as far as this, as it was a very hot afternoon.  Well, Readers, I had thought that I would be taken to the party as well, but apparently I hadn’t been invited yet again.  And do you know what annoyed me?  Knowing that I was to be left with Nana aged 87 all evening, the assumption had been made that I would Be A Pain.   To try and head off any trouble, I had been bought a HUGE bone.  Nana aged 87 was given instructions to Stand No Nonsense from me, and give me the HUGE bone to shut me up if I behaved badly.  This is hurtful in the extreme, Readers, and you will be very pleased to know that Nana aged 87 and I bonded during the evening, and she now likes me.  I was a poppet, to be honest, and slept upside down on her sofa all evening.  Apart from when I charged up the garden after a squirrel, but the rest of the time I was Adorable.  Nana aged 87 now likes me, and has learned that having a biscuit in your hand really helps to develop a relationship with me.  Furthermore, I was so well-behaved that I didn’t even need the HUGE bone!  I was pleased to see that She, Lad and Young Lad had all been caught in a downpour whilst waiting for 45 minutes on the seafront for a taxi, and I feel this serves them right for thinking the worst of me.

Anyway, they were out rather late, Friends, and we didn’t get to bed till well past midnight.  Lad said they only left the party because the music was too loud, but this seems wrong to me.  Isn’t it normally the parents complaining about the music?  What did impress  me was that TWO, yes TWO, people at the party said they still read my blog.  How wonderful that they still find me interesting.  I find myself interesting, too.  

I slept like a log last night at Nana aged 87’s, but had an unfortunate leakage on the nice duvet.  I don’t know why my anal glands always do this at her house.  So the whole duvet had to be shoved in the washing machine to get rid of the smell. Oh dear.  Then, as I was lying in the sun in the garden, something mysterious happened to my sore paw (remember?  the nail varnish?), and now I can’t put it on the ground.  It is so, so painful, Readers, and I’m walking on three legs.  You would think they might take me to the Evil Vet tomorrow, but it’s Bank Holiday, and they don’t want to pay bldy out-of-hours fees.  So it looks like I will have to wait until Tuesday.  It’s nice to be so cared about.  The good news is that I’m allowed to sleep in my chair without being dragged out for walks.  Another good thing about today was that Funnygit and The Cousins came for lunch.  This involved much banter and silliness, mostly at the expense of Young Lad, who was made to climb the apple tree for a bit of entertainment.  I like Funnygit and The Cousins, as everyone laughs a lot when they’re around, and they always have picnic type food which drops everywhere.  I’m not so keen on Funnygit calling me Rothmans, which has something to do with the history of Beagles.  

Well, I’m back home now, and Nana aged 87 likes me so much now that she has come back here with us!  Yes!  She is spending a few days here, so that she and I can bond even more over a biscuit or two, and she will probably give instructions how to tidy up the assortment of weeds that is our garden.  Excellent.  They are bound to go out for lunch or a coffee at some point, so I’m hoping someone will forget to put the bin out, though my sore paw might be a real disability in raiding the bins.  We are very pleased that Nana aged 87 is here, and I’m looking forward to a good week.

Apart from Tuesday’s trip to the Evil Vet’s.

Bye for now,



getting-walked-his-own-stick-dog-classic-stick-figure-style-complete-fingered-white-cartoon-gloves-pair-distinctive-white-sneakers-29945803Today, Readers, I went to dear Ebony’s house and had a marvellous time.  In fact, Ebony was so desperate to see me this morning that they rang the doorbell before She and Young Lad had their shoes on ready to go, so I bounded out of the house excitedly.  I just couldn’t wait to leave home!  Without looking back, I set off with Ebony for our early morning walk.  It was super.  

In fact it was so super, that when Lad came to collect me at lunchtime, after his exam, I really did not want to go home.  Lad had to pull me very hard up the road on my lead, and I kept pulling in the other direction as I wanted to stay where I was.  Lad pulled harder, and I dug my heels in.  It was a competition to see who had the most willpower.  Eventually I let Lad win, and allowed him to drag me into my own home.  I much, much, much prefer it at Ebony’s house.  Then again, Lad has a lot on his plate at the moment, so it was only fair to let him feel he was in control.  I spent the afternoon asleep in my chair, as all the pushing and pulling out on the pavement had worn me out. Lad spent the afternoon recovering from his Maths exam, and learning seven bldypoems and “Frankenstein”, which is the worst book ever written, apparently; it’s absolute rubbish, everyone thinks so.  This is according to Lad.  I’m not sure that everyone thinks it’s rubbish, as Mary Shelley did get the occasional good review for her work, but I take his point.

It’s all been a bit fraught here on the washing machine front tonight.  When finally home from work/school/doctor’s appointments etc, it was noticed that Young Lad’s school trousers were filthy, so a load of washing was put on.  Half-way through the cycle, Lad announced his joggers needed washing for tomorrow.  A snippy comment about, ” ooh, what’s that we can hear? It’s the washing machine in mid-cycle,” was made, to remind Lad to use some Forward Planning.  After some shouting, another load of washing has been put on, and to be honest the tea towels etc were pretty manky and overdue for a good wash.  So it has worked out for the best – well done, Lad.  There is some general tetchiness due to Arrangements Falling Apart and stress levels being high.  Lad had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and it was organised in such a way that Young Lad would be at after-school cricket, so could be picked up afterwards.  However.  Nothing runs smoothly here, as we all know. Not long before the doctor’s appointment, Young Lad rang to say cricket wasn’t on and how was he meant to get home.  Some heated discussion over mobile phones in the middle of the High Street took place, as a new plan had to be formed.  This involved Young Lad having to walk FAST all the way from school to the High Street, and then poor Young Lad would have to come to the doctor’s too.  Young Lad wasn’t pleased about this and some more discussion over the mobile phones took place.

Eventually Young Lad wandered slowly from school to the High Street, with no sense or urgency whatsoever, where She stood bldy well waiting for him, and now bldy late to get to the doctor’s.  In the meantime Lad had texted to say he didn’t want to go to the bldy doctor’s, what’s the bldy point, and She nearly said well I’ll got to the bldy doctor’s to get some bldy valium, but didn’t.  Eventually, Readers, all three people managed to sit down in the doctor’s waiting room, although She was heard shouting you two sit over there and leave me alone.  How nice.  Young Lad had been bought a chocolate caramel shortbread to keep him quiet, which it did. Why does nobody ever do this for me?

Dinner tonight was ye olde favorit asparagus, pea and mint risotto which sounds a lot nicer than it looks. I think the mass-produced garlic bread was the most popular aspect of this meal. I was quite forceful in the dishwasher tonight, as there were lots of glutinous rice grains stuck to plates, which I intended to pre-rinse, so I had to really stand my ground.  I was shouted at for moving all the plates around once they’d been stacked neatly (don’t make me laugh), and the crockery was all higgledy-piggledy once I’d finished the pre-rinse.  The dishwasher has been put on extra extra extra hot setting tonight.  I feel this isn’t good for the environment, but nobody listens to me.

Yesterday, Readers, was ace because I went to dear, dear Pippa’s house for daycare.  I had a glorious day there, sleeping on the soft furnishings and snarling at dear Pippa when I’d had enough of her bouncing.  Pippa doesn’t seem to mind  me snarling at her, even though I curl my lip right back and mean business, and neither does she stop bouncing.  We had a lovely walk, and I wasn’t even that fussed that I wasn’t taken to cricket last night.  I knew the dying pigeon from last week wouldn’t still be there, as some fox or other would have had it.  Really, I was quite content to have a sleep instead. Anyway, rumour has it that Young Lad has TWO, yes TWO, cricket matches next week, so I may well be taken then.  And there is far more chance of cake on those occasions.

Tomorrow everyone is out yet again, at work or school.  I will be sprinting down the road at 7.30am, to get back to my dear friend Ebony’s house.  To be honest, what was the point in coming home?  Lad has an exam in the morning, all to do with the rubbish book Frankenstein and some lame poems, but then he intends Letting His Hair Down with his friends for the rest of the day.  I feel this is important for Lad, as he has been working very hard.  Lad will not return tomorrow night, as he will still be Letting His Hair Down with his friends, so will stay with them.

Tomorrow He is going to somewhere called Lords to watch a cricket match.  This requires a ridiculously early start, and it seems cricket goes on all day for hours, and hours, and hours.  I would find this very boring, but I would enjoy trying to snatch everyone’s picnics out of their hands.  There might be another episode of Arrangements Falling Apart, as He normally collects Young Lad from school on Fridays,  and clearly won’t be able to tomorrow.  Oh dear. There will be some frantic text messaging in a moment, to make Other Arrangements.  Poor Young Lad.

Oh good, the washing machine has finished its second bldy cycle, and so I might be able to sleep without that racket going on.

See you soon,


Memory like an elephant

elephantReaders, there is no doubting my incredible powers of recall.  I’ve even impressed myself over the last few days. On Saturday evening, whilst out for my second walk, I spotted a half-eaten fairy cake by the side of the road.  This was doubtless left over from the Royal Wedding celebrations – what a wonderful event that was – and was in a pretty paper wrapper.  I lurched towards it with all my strength, but I was on the lead and She managed to yank me back in the nick of time.  On the way back from our walk, I started to increase my pace at the bottom of the road, having committed to memory exactly which house it was outside.  I was SO close to getting it, Readers, but was pulled away at the final second.  Don’t worry.  On Sunday we went out for a nice walk in the morning, and some people had forgotten about the fairy cake. I hadn’t.  This time my determination paid off.  It was nice.

Then tonight, we went over to the Rec for an evening walk as it is so beautiful out.  On the pathway, I spotted half an apple.  It was a bit dirty, but that doesn’t put me off so I pitched myself headlong towards it.  “No Russell bldyfilthything,”  was yelled at me and I was pulled away.  But I remembered exactly where it was on the way back, and started running from the edge of the field.  I didn’t succeed, but there’s always tomorrow.  She’ll forget before I do.

There is an air of frustration here tonight, Friends.  Young Lad was meant to go to cricket after school, but Young Lad discovered that he had lost his PE shorts somehow during the day and couldn’t play cricket in his school trousers.  No there wasn’t anything in Lost Property, and no he couldn’t borrow a pair from anyone. What’s more, he has PE again tomorrow, and HASN’T GOT ANY SHORTS!  This is a disaster.  A cunning plan was thought of, and Lad’s drawer of sports clothes was raided to see if he had any black shorts that would do for Young Lad.  He didn’t.  Having run out of cunning plans, there was nothing to do but have a good moan and go to the sports shop tonight JUST before it shut, even though “I haven’t got bldytimeforthis,”  to buy another pair.  This is yet another example of Poor Planning, and most normal families have spare pairs of everything to avoid this stress.  It gets better.  Young Lad’s blazer was filthy, due to a “bundle” at lunchtime, so there was a little more sighing as the washing machine was put on for the third time today.  Then we sat down to dinner, which was smokeroni cheese (Lad’s choice.  Have you tried it?  Obviously it’s macaroni cheese made with smoked cheese.  Try it.  It’s nice, if you manage to avoid a glue-like consistency.)  Now, Young Lad was wearing his PE top and school trousers, and was extra hungry tonight, so had several portions of smokeroni cheese.  Sadly, hand-eye coordination was an issue, and much of the smokeroni cheese ended up down his PE top.  Which, if you’ve been paying attention, you will know he needs for school tomorrow.  So Young Lad is now sitting on the sofa naked from the waist up, while his PE top is being washed. The atmosphere is one of irritation.

Lad has been at home revising all day.  Like you, I feel this has been going on for years.  I had a lovely long walk at the river this morning, before it became too warm, but to be honest I found it quite hard-going up round Top Field, as the silly pace was too fast for the temperature.  I did see Sausage Sue in the distance, who always has a bag of treats – sausages, obviously – and is very generous in handing them out, but I was too knackered to run after her.  This is unusual for me. On the way back we caught up with Rocco the Three-Legged Inspirational dog, and everyone told him how inspirational he is again.  I was bored while they were talking to him, and wandered off.

Do you know what I saw yesterday, Readers?  Honestly, what will people think of next.  Mr T (a pug well-known around these parts) was out for his walk in the evening sunshine, and because he overheats, was made to wear what I can only describe as a life-jacket packed with ice.  This innovative design may well keep dogs cool and stop them overheating, but they know they look ridiculous and Mr T was not impressed about having to wear the damn thing.  I felt for him – it looked very cumbersome.  If anyone tried to put one of those on me, I’d have their hand off.

Young Lad has Food Tech tomorrow, I’m pleased to say, and it’s chicken kebabs.  I am looking forward to this, as he brings the fruit of his labours home with him, and we have it for tea. I’m not quite certain whether the kebabs are refrigerated after they’ve been made, as Food Tech is in Lesson 2, but one can only hope they are not just left lying on the side, in the sun all day. I’d eat them anyway.  The list of ingredients Young Lad produced is worryingly short – one chicken breast, one onion and one pepper.  Hopefully there will be the odd bit of oil or spice in the Food Tech room to add a little something to this.  Unless Young Lad has got it badly wrong.  He has some Science homework to do, on Human Reproduction.  Nobody could face this at the weekend, so it was put off until tonight.  Nobody can face this tonight, so it has been put off until tomorrow night.  It has to be handed in on Wednesday so they will just have to bite the bullet tomorrow.

I imagine Meghan Markle is heading off on honeymoon soon, and deservedly so.  What a wonderful day that was, and such a change from the normal pomp and ceremony.  While she is on honeymoon, I imagine Meghan Markle’s Beagle will be staying with the Queen, and being driven around in her car.  Do you know that Meghan rescued that Beagle from a dog’s home, where it was about to be euthanised?  And now it rides around the estate of Windsor on the back seat of a Bentley.  A rags-to-riches story if ever I heard one.  You see, there is hope.

See you soon.



Royal Wedding Special!

meghan-harry-kiss-royal-wedding The day I’ve been waiting for, Readers!!  Oh, the excitement and anticipation of the last few days, as the countdown to Meghan’s big day started.  Regular readers will know that this beautiful, sensitive woman has a Beagle, and Meghan Markle’s Beagle is not moaned at, told he smells or pulled bodily from the dishwasher each night.  How I have longed to go and live with them!

Now, you may remember that I had a plan.  I intended popping up to Windsor today – advice was given out to catch an early train, due to the numbers expected – and then, as Harry and Meghan drove past in their OPEN Landau carriage, I was going to leap in and sit on her lap.  Meghan would be charmed beyond belief by this, and take me to live with her. How I would have smiled at the crowds and photographers!  However, last night I did some thinking.  Friends, you know that I have some anxiety issues around:


people with dark skin

people in wheelchairs

people with funny accents

anyone wearing hats or sunglasses

anyone with a walking stick.

I had to give this all some sensible thought.  How likely was it, I asked myself, that I would bump into anyone from the above list in Windsor today?  Because this might detract from my enjoyment of the day, and stress might mean I mistime my jump into the carriage.  I know, I know – the chances of meeting anyone from this list was remote, as I’m sure the streets of Windsor didn’t have any of the above today, but I decided to play safe and watch it on the telly.  Don’t worry!  I have a plan B, which will be easier to execute.

And so, like you, dear Reader, I watched the Royal Wedding from the comfort of the lounge.  What a glorious affair it was.  I was alarmed that poor Meghan had decided to walk alone up the aisle, and think she missed a trick there, as she should have had her Beagle on its lead with her.  That would have looked wonderful, and Prince George could have discreetly carried the poo bags.  Anyway, let’s go back to the moment Meghan stepped out of the car.  That dress – I knew it would be Givenchy! I said to myself only this morning, it’ll either be Givenchy or Vera Wang, and I would have put money on Givenchy. Meghan looked a vision. I thought the service itself was magical, and I felt some of the comments being snorted by the people watching it with me were uncalled for. Yes, the American Preacher was an unusual aspect of a Royal Wedding, but to be honest, St George’s Chapel could do with a bit of hell, fire and brimstone from time to time.  There’s nothing wrong with passion, Readers.  And no, I don’t think for a moment that Meghan was seen mouthing, “oh dear,” to Harry during the slightly-longer-than-expected sermon from the American Preacher.  Look, Friends, the Queen often has that disdainful look on her face, it’s her natural resting expression, except when her filly has won the Gold Cup at Cheltenham, and it had nothing to do with how she felt about proceedings. So all the sniggering and snotty comments around me were unfair.  The Duke of Edinburgh, bless him had done incredibly well to be there today, and at no stage  did he express a wish to go back to hospital. 

And then a Gospel Choir to boot!  What a marvellous spectacle in the cloisters of St George’s Chapel, Windsor. Rare, but marvellous. I will agree, however, that there was an audible sigh of relief from the congregation when Guide Me Oh Thou Great Redeemer started, and everyone was back on familiar territory.  Then the registers were signed, they left the Chapel and Harry kissed the bride.  Truly magical.  I bet they were bldy starving by this point, and couldn’t wait to get to the reception.  I would have been hungry by then.  Especially if I’d been singing, “Bread of Heaven, Bread of Heaven, Feed me till I want no more (want no more..)”  I wonder what they had to eat.  I’ve heard it was an elderflower and lemon cake rather than the traditional fruit – I would happily eat either.  Or both.  Anyway, while all this was going on, what do you think Lad and Young Lad were given for lunch?  Bearing in mind it was a Special Occasion?  Cheese and ham panini, carrot sticks and dip.  The boat was truly pushed out here today.

Lad and Young Lad were both forced to watch the Royal Wedding as it is History, plus nobody does a state occasion like the British, and it’s important to remember this from time to time.  Young Lad was a little distracted throughout, and Lad did shout Oh What’s The POINT? but it wasn’t clear whether this referred to the Royal Wedding, the quadratic equations he was revising, or life in general. We’d all had enough after an hour and a half (most of which was the American Preacher), and the telly was switched off as it was such a beautiful day.  Lad carried on revising, and Young Lad went round to the neighbours to ask for all his footballs back, then played football in the garden and kicked them all over again. I helped his sense of enjoyment by lying in the goal, as that was  a lovely warm ,sunny part of the lawn, and refused to move.  Yet again, She put her foot firmly under my bottom and moved me on.  So I lay down slightly in front of the goal.  Young Lad was cross.

I wonder where Meghan Markle’s Beagle is this evening, while the party is going on.  He has been seen riding in the car with the Queen in recent days, so I imagine he is with Her Majesty and Philip, having a take-away and watching the Cup Final. What a lucky, lucky dog that Beagle is.  My plan B needs a little tweaking here and there, but I am determined that I will be living at Nottingham Cottage, South Ken, before long. It’s on the Circle Line, I’ve looked it up.  

Oh well, it’s 1-0 to Chelsea at half time, and I’m a little bored if truth be told.  I’m going to see if the fat stupid pigeons have knocked any bread off the bird table.  It’s something to do.

I hope you’ve had a very happy day, wherever you have been on this Special Occasion. Before long, there will be two Beagles driving around with the Queen.  I am in the wrong life, here.

Bye for now,



cricket-clipart-cricket-clip-art-cricket3Well it’s about time, Readers.  Several weeks into the cricket season, I was finally taken to the cricket club last night as it wasn’t deemed to be too bldyhot or too bldycold.  Though in fact it was too bldycold, and we had to walk round the pitch eleven times in an attempt to keep warm, which failed.  Twice we had to shelter in the clubhouse for a few minutes to warm up, and listen to conversations about buying an upmarket hot drinks machine for the club. She says that less talk and more action is needed, as it was bldyfreezing last night.  Young Lad didn’t seem to mind the cold wind, and had a marvellous time as wicket-keeper, which largely involved throwing himself to the floor dramatically and rolling around.  This looked fun, but I wasn’t allowed to join in.  I made my own entertainment, though, as there is always loads of bird poo around the boundary which I tidy up for the groundsman.  As a bonus last night, there was a dying pigeon as well.  She felt sad for the dying pigeon, as it was taking a very long time to die, and if only one had the courage, one would have put it out of its misery but a) this would have been distressing for the cricketing children to see and b) She has no clue how to wring a neck and the pigeon would have been worse off.

On our eleventh lap of the pitch, we had hoped to see some cloudiness in the pigeon’s eyes, which would have indicated it had moved on, but no.  It was still hanging its head and bravely clinging on to life.  Had I not been on the lead, I would have sped up its journey into the afterlife but I was yanked away every time I got near.  Poor pigeon.  

On one of our warm-up visits to the clubhouse, I decided to do some quality control of last Sunday’s Cricket Teas.  I climbed under the seats to hoover up any crumbs and bits, which had the double effect of cleaning the clubhouse carpet, and examining the standard of sandwiches that were served up at the weekend.  You’ll be pleased to know that they were fine.  I expect the “no dogs in the clubhouse” sign will be back on the door next week.  He was at the cricket ground as well last night, which was unusual.  There was some sort of groundsman training going on, which required everyone to stand and look at the wicket, nodding a lot, for about an hour.  Then they had fish and chips.  I’m not sure what was learned from this training, but I would have liked the fish and chips.

Once we returned home, pity was taken on Young Lad for playing cricket in the cold for an hour and a half, and also on Lad for surviving another exam.  A steamed syrup pudding had been knocked up at tea-time, and this was served with piping hot custard.  Young Lad had two huge bowlfuls.  I would have liked two huge bowlfuls, but wasn’t offered any.  Nobody bothers to think that I may have been cold, too.  In fact, I fell into a heavy sleep on the sofa, exhausted from the eleven laps of the pitch, and snored loudly all through the Tense Drama on telly at 9pm, which annoyed everyone and I was shouted at.  

Talking of the steamed pudding, I had indulged in some dishwasher diving at tea-time, and grabbed the big mixing bowl which had pudding mix all round it.  Cake/pudding mixture is one of my all time favourite things, and so I grabbed the large bowl and ran off down the garden with it.  She had to chase me down the garden shouting, and I growled fiercely to protect my mixing bowl. Finally it was taken away from me, and put back in the dishwasher on an extra hot setting. This annoyed me, as there was plenty of mixture left round the edges, and I am NEVER offered the beaters, unlike Young Lad, who always gets to lick the beaters.  This is favouritism, and I feel Lad and I are neglected in this respect.

By the way, Readers, whilst chatting to people at cricket last night, the point was made that I am a lovely dog, and do not deserve the reputation I’ve earned through my blog.  In fact, one lovely person used quite gushing words to describe me, and said they refuse to believe that I am “bad” or “a complete bldy git.”  It’s nice to be appreciated once in while, and it certainly won’t ever happen at home. 

The baking theme has continued tonight, with mass production of chocolate brownies.  I swear we keep Tate and Lyle and the free-range egg industry in business.  The kitchen, Friends, was indescribable and I only wish someone had taken a photo before it was cleaned up.  As well as the usual dripping down the washing machine, brownie mixture was on the taps, cupboard handles, kettle and in my water bowl. It beggars belief how anyone can make so much mess.  Readers, it’s a good job we have a mirror in the hall near the front door, as somebody had a large blob of brownie mixture on their chin – now how did that get there? – as they were leaving the house to have a cuppa with the neighbours.  How ridiculous they would have looked, if it hadn’t been cleaned off.  And would the neighbours be too polite to say, “you have brownie mixture all over your chin,”?   I imagine they would.  So now the kitchen is full of chocolate brownies, and the smell is delightful.  I have licked quite a bit off the cupboards, and can report that it’s a good recipe.

I had a very upsetting experience yesterday, Readers.  Dear, dear Ebony’s Pack Leader took me for a walk in the morning, and on the way home I turned left, fully expecting to turn into Ebony’s house.  But no!  I was steered away and taken back to my own, empty home.  What was this nonsense, I wondered.  I ALWAYS go to Ebony’s house.  I  tried my best to physically pull Ebony’s Pack Leader back to her front door, feeling she had made a mistake, but she was determined, and put me back in my own home.  This was a Snub of the highest order.  I was really quite emotional about this, Friends.  Imagine my relief at 7.30 this morning, when I was taken down the road to her house – I sprinted all the way, wagging my tail so hard I thought it would drop off.  I hope they have thought carefully about their actions yesterday, and do not repeat this mistake. Hurtful.

Golly I’m ready for a kip – those eleven laps of the cricket pitch knocked the stuffing out of me.

See you soon,


All change

5-confused-beagle-dog-cartoon-clipart-324x292 It’s been chaos this week, Readers, as routines have changed beyond recognition at my house.  Working Hours are completely different from normal for some people, plus of course Lad is on study leave so is only going into school for exams. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m Arthur or Martha, with all the coming and going.  So I thought I would take advantage of the situation where possible.  The problem with changing one’s routines is that it’s easy to take one’s  eye off the ball, and so it has been proved.  The kitchen bin wasn’t put outside yesterday morning, so I emptied it all over the kitchen floor and dragged loads through to the lounge, eating whatever was remotely edible and quite a lot of things that aren’t.  I had forgotten that Lad was still upstairs, and poor Lad had to clear all the mess up when he finally surfaced.  Lad was cross with me, but I didn’t care.  

This morning, She remembered to put the kitchen bin out, but completely forgot to shut the bathroom door, so I emptied the bathroom bin all along the landing, and brought some downstairs.  Again, I ate a lot of things that don’t really count as food.  If they emptied the bins occasionally, Friends, there would be less mess, so it’s entirely their own fault.   Lad’s bedroom bin was also full, with crisp packets, tissues and a detention slip from school, so I troughed through that lot as well. The other problem with changing routines is that it disrupts one’s thinking and planning.  There is no better proof of this than tonight’s attempt at dinner.  The planned dinner was a lovely golden, crispy, bubbling lasagne, to comfort Lad after his first exam and Young Lad after a normal day at school.  Reader, had the ingredients been checked and ticked off?  No, of course not.  It turned out there was no mince-type product in the freezer, which is a key part of a lasagne, so there was some stropping around the kitchen and banging of cupboard doors.  In the end, a lasagne was made, using three old veggie burgers that have been in the freezer for months, and a lot of tinned tomatoes.  I’m sure your mouth is watering as much as Lad’s was when he came home.  It is no surprise that half the lasagne is still in the kitchen – I’ve got my eye on it.

Lad has been rewarded for completing his first exam today, with a Magnum ice cream.  I’m thinking the same, Readers;  an over-priced, over-marketed frozen dessert on a stick does not seem very generous to celebrate his hard work. Poor Lad.  He said today’s Biology exam was RUBBISH and CONFUSING, and it turns out that Lad and his friends have all written different answers to some of the questions.  But looking on the bright side, one of them must be right. 

Young Lad had a busy day yesterday, with after-school cricket training, and has taken to playing football in the garden after dinner of an evening.  The only fly in this ointment is when he kicks all the balls over the fences into numerous neighbours’ gardens and then has to wait for everyone to throw them back.  He gets told off for his poor control and ball skills, but I feel this is harsh. This evening Young Lad is relaxing on the sofa watching Police Interceptors, which is always a favourite when there is bugger all else on telly.  He has also eaten a whole packet of Thorntons mini caramel chocolate shortbreads, and made the slight error of not saving any for Lad.

It was beautiful at the river tonight, and was the sort of evening that makes you glad to  be alive.  I haven’t seen the Bastard Swans down there for ages, thinking about it, and am hoping they’ve flown a long way away, possibly into an electricity pylon.  The May trees were out in full blossom, cow-parsley hung its delicate head across the paths, and a warm breeze fluttered past my ears. The sound of birdsong was only spoilt by the endless sneezing and moaning about bldy hayfever. Being a school night, there were no large groups of teenagers sitting around, which made our walk less  threatening, but then  rather poor on the snack-finding front.  We marched through Far Field – what, you thought we might be having a gentle evening stroll? – to the rhythm of Abba’s One of Us.  Cheerful and uplifting as ever, and there’s no way the original was intended for that tempo. I was dragged along on the lead most of the time, as there was nobldy time tonight to bath  me if I rolled in anybldy fox poo.

Now, I did promise to tell you how Lad fared, on the last day of school last week.  You may remember that it is “traditional” for students to lark about and play silly tricks on this day; Lad and his friends were bound to have made exciting plans, as they are renowned at their school for their very high level of achievement in larking about. Indeed, plans had been made that involved superglue, smoked haddock, and classroom door signs.  Not together, I don’t think.  But Readers!  Lad’s plans were thwarted as he and his friends had “minders” to accompany them from room to room all day long.  Oh the disappointment.  One can only wonder at the mentality of the staff, who decided to play safe and escort certain pupils round the building all day. This was such a shame, and a dreadful waste of smoked haddock. Lad has an early exam tomorrow, at 9am.  He has been told he will be getting on a bus at daybreak, to ensure he is there in time. 

Well, tomorrow is Wednesday and who knows what will be going on.  I’m hoping for a nice walk with dear Ebony, whom I haven’t seen for several days. I’m also hoping I may be taken to cricket in the evening, as we’re now several weeks into the season and I haven’t been within sniffing distance of the bird poo on the pitch.

See you soon, Readers.




camilla-sparv  Readers, I was MORTIFIED yesterday.  Oh, the shame.  I was taken out for my walk, but this was AFTER She had been to the hairdresser and had a 1960s bouffant style created, ready for Chelsea Girl’s James Bond party in the evening.  Yet again, this smacks of poor planning.  Why on earth would you take me out for a walk, with a Strange Hairstyle?  I was so anxious about being laughed at by my friends at the river, that I insisted we only went to the Rec, where we were less likely to see people. It was dreadfully embarrassing, and to be frank She should have worn a badge saying I’m Going To A Fancy Dress Party Later, to explain her ridiculous appearance.  Anyway, thankfully it started raining which was a Right Result, as it meant a) She had to put her hood up and b) the Bouffant wasn’t quite as Bouffant by the time we got home.  I hope this never happens again.  Dreadful.  At this point, Readers, I should apologise to the lovely but long-suffering hairdresser that had created an authentic 1960’s style, not thinking for a minute that her dozy client would then walk round Sainsbury’s and take the dog out wearing said creation.  Dear God.

The day did pick up, yesterday, though, with the arrival of Pretty AD and Grandma, who were coming to keep an eye on Young Lad, and take me out for a less embarrassing walk.  I love seeing both of these dear people, and Pretty AD looked especially pretty, I felt, and before long my lipstick popped out as usual.  Grandma was excellent company, playing snooker with Young Lad, and despite instructions left for him to do his bldy homework, Young Lad seems to have been much too busy to achieve this. In truth, neither Young Lad nor I particularly wanted to go for a walk in the afternoon and had to be forcibly dragged out, but there you go.  Lad, of course, was exempt from all this due to revision. Do you know, there was some discussion about dragging me out for a third time, when they went to get fish and chips in the evening.  I put my foot down, and refused point blank.  Ridiculous.  Thankfully Young Lad didn’t fancy it either, and they drove to the top of the road.

He was at work all day and didn’t get home until late evening, poor He.  Lad worked hard revising all day, and played hard shouting on the Xbox all evening, which is fine because all work and no play makes Lad a dull boy.  She, of course, was out at Chelsea Girl’s James Bond party.  This sounded fun, and I would like to have gone but of course, wasn’t invited.  I would particularly have liked the paella tent, and would have spent most of the evening there, not bothering people by the roulette table or on the dance floor at all, so I don’t see why I couldn’t have gone along.  Instead, J’s Pack Leader went with her – now, my regular Readers will know that back in the day, I started writing my blog to cheer up my young friend J, while he was having Horrid Things done to him in the Marsden  hospital, rather like the Horrid Things I have done to me at the Evil Vet’s. You’ll be glad to know that J is getting better, and so it was felt his Pack Leader deserved a night out.  Readers, I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say the martini was quite strong, and after a couple of those and the usual Gordon or two, She and J’s Pack Leader looked less sleek Bond Girl, and more Patsy and Edina.  In retrospect, I’m  glad I wasn’t there to see the tottering around in high heels, or witness the schoolboy error in having failed to order a taxi on a busy Saturday night at midnight, but as I would have still been in the paella tent, I wouldn’t have noticed.  I hope Chelsea Girl had a marvellous time, and that she remembers to put me on the guest list in future.

This morning I’ve had a nice walk with He and Young Lad – yes!  Those eagle-eyed Readers will have noticed that Young Lad has been out for a walk two days running.  She is threatening to take me out for a Power Walk in a bit, due to the calories in the Martinis and Paella, but I’m hoping it starts raining. Some thinking is going on about what to bake, to assuage the guilt that yesterday Lad and Young Lad had nutritionally challenged fish and chips,  and for lunch today it was a fairly uninteresting salad.  One feels that with a busy week of exams ahead of him (Yes!  By God!  The GCSEs have arrived at last!!)  there should be something more palatable than a digestive biscuit in the kitchen.  I will go out to the kitchen in a while and see what is dripping down the front of the cupboards, and then we’ll know what Revision Aid has been baked.

Young Lad has written out the list of cricket match fixtures for the next couple of months.  I am exhausted, just hearing him read it out.  I have a feeling that this is going to be a very busy week, and sincerely hope that my welfare is factored in somewhere.  Hopefully this will involve seeing dear, dear Ebony and Pippa at some point.  I’d quite like to get away from Gingercat for a while, anyway, as he is getting on everyone’s nerves with his random yowling, and tendency to chase leaves round the garden with a silly look on his face.   Gingercat is the equivalent of 81 in human years, as I’ve mentioned before, and I do worry that this is the onset of feline alzheimers.  It’s bldy annoying, anyway.

Well, I won’t object too much to a gentle evening stroll, as the sun is now out and it’s a lovely evening, plus She’s had a shower and doesn’t look quite as strange as on our walk yesterday. Wouldn’t it be nice if, just for once, my feelings were considered. Yes, they have to walk along with me plastered in fox cack or whatever I’ve found, and they say this is embarrassing, but it just isn’t on the same level of shame.

Have a lovely evening, Readers.

See you soon,



Parchment-Paper1I was extremely bored yesterday morning, so removed a roll of greaseproof baking paper from the cupboard, ripped it up and spat it round the lounge floor.  It was something to do. I’d been given a Kong with a smear of cheap imitation Philadelphia cream cheese in, but that didn’t last long, so I needed something else to do. I’m extremely annoyed that that food cupboard has been re-arranged so that all I have to entertain myself with is Tupperware and irritating rolls of baking paper and clingfilm.  But there we are.  I was nearly caught in the act yesterday morning, as Young Lad and She made an unexpected return home from school/work and I was not comfortable with this.  There had been yet another Incident of some sort, dear God, and Young Lad needed to  lie on the sofa – this is his preferred position, as we all know.  I was scolded and moaned at for the state of the bldylounge with ripped up bldybakingpaper spat out all over the place.   Thankfully Pippa’s Pack Leader Male turned up at that moment to take me to daycare, so I could escape from the telling-off.

Today was lovely;  sunny and pleasant, and I was just in the mood for gentle strolling at the river and mooching around. Of course, this wasn’t allowed and due to A Bit Of A Day yesterday it seemed She needed to stomp even more than usual.  This annoyed me, so up in Top Field I made my point by waiting until She was at the far side, before taking a comfort break right down at the beginning.  By the time all the stomping back to my comfort break site had been managed, it was difficult to remember where it was and an awful lot of scouring of the long grass was needed.  At this point I found some cack in which to roll, a bit further over, so now there was a decision to be made: continue searching for my comfort break, or pull me out of the cack.  I found it very amusing. Served her right for the ridiculous walking speed.  Dear Chuck was in Top Field, running away from his Pack Leader, and eventually he hid under a gate so that nobody could find him.  I wasn’t the only one being annoying this morning.

Today has been noisy due to the frantic hoovering that’s been going on.  I was tired after our three mile walk, and it’s plain selfish to start hoovering when I’m trying to sleep. Admittedly the house was disgusting and some cleaning was long over-due, but really the timing could have been better.  Thankfully there was some peace later on, as Young Lad had a football match for the school, which She went to watch.  Young Lad is excellent at football.  He runs around  a lot, points a lot and shouts advice to the other players a lot.  This appears to be more important than actual ball skills, but it takes all sorts.  Well done, Young Lad.  This has been an energetic week for him, with basketball club at lunchtimes, cricket yesterday evening and a football match today.  And don’t forget those end-of-year exams. Young Lad was very pleased to have scored 17 out of 30 for Geography, as this is over half and “will do.”

Lad only has one more day at school and then is on “study leave.”  In truth this means that Lad and I will lie in bed longer than usual, and I’m looking forward to this. We’re all looking forward to four weeks’ time, when the bldyGCSEs are over and the house can reappear from under a mountain of index cards and post-it notes.  Lad and He have gone to the pub tonight to watch Wet Sham, and this will be very therapeutic for Lad at this stressful time, I’m sure.  Or perhaps not.

Readers, there hasn’t been a blog for a couple of nights, and for this I apologise.  Wednesday had its usual tightbldyschedule what with cricket in the evening – in truth the laptop had been taken along to cricket last night, with the intention of writing the blog, but it seems drinking a gin and tonic in the clubhouse was more appealing.  What a shoddy attitude.  No thought whatsoever for all the loyal Readers who were waiting eagerly for my wise words. I behaved impeccably at Pippa’s  house yesterday, as usual, and even went in the river for a drink during our walk.  My split toenail is getting better, thank you for asking, and I’m not limping as much, although apparently it’s hard to tell as I am uncoordinated and have a clumsy gait at the best of times.  Such warm, kind words.

This blog has taken ages to write tonight due to lack of concentration.  Young Lad and She were determined to watch the finale of Season3 Scandi Nordi depressing noir type thing, before season 4 starts tomorrow. (Shoot me now.)  So there have been lots of pauses from typing, with gasps and staring at the telly, and the occasional shout of, “oh no, look out!!”  Dear Lord.  Gingercat and I have slept through this nonsense.  And then, once Young Lad had retired to bed, you would think some proper work ethic might be shown in finishing tonight’s blog, but no.  Guess what’s on now.  You’re right. Ambulance.  Really, it’s no wonder Young Lad shows difficulties concentrating on his homework, when this is his role model.

Lad says it’s traditional on the last day of school, for students to be rather mischievous and play jolly pranks on each other and the staff.  Lad claims that he and his little group of quiet, bookish type friends have not yet planned any hilarious wheezes.  Readers, I think we all find this doubtful.  Lad has been told that his  bldy passport will be confiscated and he won’t be going bldy anywhere in the summer holidays, if he steps out of line. I don’t like this assumption that Lad will  be in trouble tomorrow, any more than the assumptions I will misbehave when people are out of the house.  Yes, these assumptions are based on years of experience, but that’s not the point.  Benefit. Of. The. Doubt.

I’ll let you know what jolly japes Lad and his friends get up to.

Bye for now,


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