Something very uncharacteristic of me has just happened, Readers. Whilst walking home from the river, I accidentally didn’t notice a mini jammie dodger lying on the path. I know! I just wasn’t looking in the right direction and was busy smelling something else. Of course, it had to be brought to my attention with lots of guffawing that I had missed something to eat – anyone with any tact would have left me blissfully ignorant. I’m a little upset, I have to say, as I have a pretty amazing track record of finding snacks everywhere we go. To be fair, I’d be more upset if it was a normal size jammie dodger, as those mini ones are just ridiculous. Oh well. It was a lovely walk this morning, and lots of my friends were down there nice and early, before it gets too hot. Some time was spent paddling my paws in the river to cool down a little, and then I was made to go back in the river after I rolled in fox cack in Far Field. We still don’t go into Top Field at the moment because of the people having their camping holiday there last week – something to do with a sanitation issue, so I have to make do with Far Field. So I had a good roll in some poo in Far Field, and was then moaned at and put on the lead, for the two mile walk of shame home.
It’s been a VERY busy few days. For some ludicrous reason, everyone’s alarm clocks keep going off at 5.15am, which frankly is very vexing. Gingercat and I are not ready to be woken at this time. This is all due to Lad doing work experience at the Important Place in London, and having to catch a very early train. I don’t see why we should all have to suffer because of this. I’m glad Lad is enjoying his week, and it’s lovely to hear him talking more than he has done in several years, but I’ll be glad when the week is over. Poor Lad. In addition, poor Young Lad has been forced to play a stupid amount of cricket this week, with two lots of training, two matches and another lot of training tonight. It is only Thursday, and this is downright unkind. It’s all very well when She moans about the running around like a blue-arsed bldy fly, but the truth is that nobody has eaten a proper meal since Monday night’s home-made lasagne. This is very poor and needs some attention. Yes, I’ve benefited from the ready-meal trays, but that’s not the point. I would like to see Lad and Young Lad sitting down with something nutritious and home-made tonight. I won’t hold my breath though, as Young Lad has more cricket training, and Lad will need collecting from the station nine miles away. Gourmet cuisine will be a challenge on top of all this.
The last time they sat down to eat at the table, there was another interesting Dinnertime Debate. This time, Lad was on his soapbox about immigration. Now, Lad knows a lot about all sorts of things, as you know, Readers, and this was no different. There was much debate about the UK’s lenient immigration policy compared to that of other countries, with Lad feeling that other countries have got it right. The debate became quite heated, Readers, and somehow the British Empire, Slave Trade and Hitler all got dragged into the equation. I found this extremely hard to follow, so gave up and went to sleep. She and Lad eventually stopped shouting at each other and agreed to disagree, whilst Young Lad told them abut the girl-fight he had seen at school that day. I do wish they would just watch Love Island and talk about that over dinner – it would be much less contentious. I’m sure that’s what Meghan Markle does.
Now, I have to report some very bad behaviour. Not me, though! No, my dear friend Ebony, with whom I’ve been dumped the last two days, was in Big Trouble last night. Readers, while her Pack Leaders were out, Ebony found a red pen at the back of the working surface, pulled it down and chewed it. Red ink went everywhere – all over Ebony, the kitchen floor and, unfortunately, the carpet. Ebony’s Pack Leader Male came home and saw all this red stuff everywhere, and quite understandably thought that Ebony was horribly injured. She wasn’t. She was, however, in disgrace for the rest of the evening. I don’t do things like this. Pardon? The bright blue oil pastel from Lad’s Art resources? That was ages ago.
Poor He is working very long hours and going to work really early before it gets hot. I haven’t seen a lot of He this week, except in the evenings on the sofa, while the football is on. I’m looking forward to tonight’s match, as She has promised to buy snacks for them all to enjoy while they kick back and watch the game, after a hectic week. See? More junk food. But Young Lad always drops loads of snacks due to difficulty coordinating his hand to his mouth, so I will be able to join in the snacking. Last night I went to the cricket club, and during the first boring half hour where we have to go in the clubhouse and talk to everyone, yawn, I wandered round hoovering up the crisps from under the tables. Sadly, I also let off a vulgar smell in the clubhouse so was shouted at and taken outside. Then we walked round the pitch several times, and I ate lots of bird poo.
Talking of birds, I don’t know what’s going on in my garden today. This morning there were thirteen, yes THIRTEEN, Stupid Starlings on the bird table and lawn. There must be a nest of them in one of our trees, as they were quite young. Well, it annoyed me as I had to keep running in and out to pick up any bread they dropped, plus thirteen large birds on your lawn is rather Hitchcock-like and sinister. Gingercat has been a bit useless at sorting out the birds, but in his defence, it is rather hot.
Oh dear, the hoover is coming out of the cupboard and some frantic cleaning is about to start. There will be no peace for the rest of the morning, and I’m trying to sleep. I do hope poor Lad gets home safely from London and manages to sit down for a change on the train. Sometimes I feel Lad and I are pushed beyond our limits.
See you soon.