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,