A marvellous day on the food -heist front yesterday, Readers. I was most pleased with myself. Someone had cleaned out the bread bin at the weekend, which is unusual in itself, and found three large burger baps at the bottom which were dry and mouldy. There was also some rock-hard baguette and crusts of artisan arty-farty seeded bread which nobody had liked. All of this was shoved into a carrier bag, and placed in the back porch ready to go out to the bird table in stages. How ridiculous.
I had no choice but to help myself to this once She took Young Lad to school, and He had gone to work. Lad was in bed sound asleep, of course, and irritatingly someone had remembered to put the kitchen bin outside the back door, but it didn’t occur to them that the bread was still in the porch. I dragged the carrier bag into the lounge, pulled out all the rolls and bread and ate the lot. It barely touched the sides, if I’m honest. I ripped up the carrier bag and spat it over the lounge floor, just to make sure I hadn’t left any crumbs.
I was tired after this, and needed a kip. When She came home and saw the shredded carrier bag, She put two and two together and started shouting at me. This was uncouth and unnecessary. It’s hardly my fault if they’re sloppy enough to leave bags of stale bread lying around. True, my stomach was quite distended for the rest of the day, and down at the river nobody said “isn’t he looking slim?” like they often do, but there you go. I also ate a piece of dead something in the long grass, for good measure, and was moaned at again. There was an attempt at fast marching (it was to the Lightning Seeds “Three Lions”, due to England’s success to date in the World Cup – it was nice being jolly and jingoistic for once, rather than stuck in 1976), and the pace was increased to try and burn off some of the bread I’d eaten. However, Friends, it was still very hot yesterday morning so this pace didn’t last long.
The man camping under the willow tree is still there – at least his tent is, and he has obviously been very hot poor man, as he has thrown out a tarpaulin sheet and sleeping bag. There was no sign of life from the tent, even when I went really, really close to cock my leg against it. Don’t worry, I was screeched at just in the nick of time. I hope the man in the tent was just asleep and hasn’t actually roasted beneath the willow tree.
The river was calling my name, so I stepped in very carefully, ignoring once again the yobbish brown labradors who were throwing themselves in over my head. They really are rather common. Gently, I paddled up and down, looking at my reflection dancing in the water and wondering who it was. There were some fish swimming around, so I made a half-hearted attempt at thumping them with my paw but then I heard someone laughing at me, so stopped. I could easily have stayed there half the day, wandering slowly and enjoying the countryside, but oh no, we were on a tight bldy schedule just for a change. Lad and She had to hurtle off to the station for one of his never-ending appointments at the Important Place in London, so I was left on my own. Again.
Poor Young Lad had to walk all the way home from school, due to the lack of availability from his parents to pick him up. This is a long walk in the heat, and he had his cricket bag to carry. (Young Lad had decided against going to cricket practice, as he was “hot” and “tired.”) Oh, my mistake, Readers. Young Lad was given a lift all the way home by someone’s Grandma yet again. This worked in my favour, as Young Lad fed me and let me in the garden. He didn’t know I’d eaten all that bread earlier in the day and wasn’t meant to be having any dinner. Excellent.
By the time She and Lad returned from London, they were bldy hot and bldy irritable, and I was disappointed with their attitude. After a very cursory “Have you been a good, good boy or a naughty, naughty boy?” I was ignored in favour of showers and a light salad. It is not good parenting to hold a grudge about stolen bread for this long. Let it go.
There was some stressy shouting in the evening last night, as it was realised that Young Lad has Food Tech today and needed unsalted butter again. Just as She was about to stomp out to Tesco for the third time in two days (organisation is a key part of parenting, surely?) Young Lad suddenly realised that it was Sports Day today, and so Food Tech might not be happening. There was lots of arguing about can you make a bldy decision, do you need the bldyingredients or not? and finally some Whatsapping of other parents was undertaken to find out whether Young Lad would, in fact, be making shortbread or not. The answer was not; he will be doing long jump. Long jump does not require unsalted butter or a trip to Tesco, so peace was finally restored. I was relieved about this and could go back to sleep.
Today I’ve had a lovely time as Lad has been here all day – but not in bed!! No, Lad desperately needed to earn some money so was given a HUGE list of jobs – some of them quite heavy-duty such as weed the front garden and pull up the jungle in between the paving stones on the drive – so Lad was up at a respectable time to do all this. Lad also took me for a jolly nice walk, where I impressed him with my ability to chase sticks in the river, and go in as far as my waist. I love days like these with Lad.
Sadly, there won’t be many of them for a while. Readers, I am very upset to find that the Overnight Case has been put into Lad’s bedroom. This is because Lad is going away for a few days tomorrow, with his friends, to a hot sunny country, which isn’t this one. Thankfully one Adult is going with them, to make sure there are no schoolboy errors with any of the things that could go wrong with three people of Lad’s age going on holiday together. Lad is rather fed up with the lectures he has had to sit through at home, and I must admit, the points have been laboured somewhat. Lad knows lots about everything, as you know, and it’s dreary for him to sit through these sermons.
Golly, I’m just about ready for a sleep now, Friends.
See you soon,