download (1) Readers, is there anything more boring in the whole world than picking blackberries?  Really, I fail to see the point of this annual ritual.  I had forgotten how tedious it was from last year – there I was yesterday, bouncing down the road happily in anticipation of a wonderful walk, when we stopped within a few yards of the path.  I was expected to stand still patiently while She faffed around in the bushes for half an hour, picking small and barely -worth- it fruit to put in a tupperware box.  Then we had to do it all again today, as we found An Excellent Spot yesterday, but had run out of room in the box.

I have to say it turned out to be quite amusing yesterday, actually.  Whilst She was standing precariously on a hilly bit in ill-advised flipflops trying to reach some juicy berries up high, it started to chuck down with rain.  Picture this – trying to hold onto a very bored Beagle on the lead in one hand, hold up an umbrella, balance a pot of blackberries on an arm and pick some very  high up fruit!  Oh it was funny.  Of course, all it would have taken was for me to pull on the lead and run off, and the whole thing would have ended badly.  You will be pleased to know I behaved impeccably.  Instead, due to the pounding rain She said “sod this for a game of soldiers” or something similar and we went home.  I was drenched and fed up, to be honest.

I know for a fact that Tesco sells punnets of blackberries.  This is an infinitely quicker and less dull way of acquiring them, and doesn’t annoy one’s dog.

What a day yesterday.  He was meant to be playing cricket, and he packed up the car with his big cricket case and looked very excited about having a game.  No sooner had He set off in the car than the heavens opened and the match was abandoned.  Poor He.  Instead He stayed at home all day and an attempt was made at a proper lunch where we all sat together at the table and talked.  Well, Lad talked.  Yesterday’s Dinnertime Debate was all about whether a player for Wet Sham called Sanderson or something similar, is worth the £40 million paid for him.  Lad feels strongly that he is not performing at £40 million worth level, and there was some discussion.  Lad feels Wet Sham have made an error of judgement here, just as they have in bringing back Snotgrass.  I know, I am bored to tears by this too.    In fact the only Reader even still reading this will be Sicknote, who has been known to enjoy the odd discussion about Wet Sham.  

So despite the effort to which She had gone, making a hearty lasagne and apple and blackberry crumble, lunch was spoiled very slightly by the limited conversation.  I just slept under the table and waited to stand in the dishwasher when they loaded it.  She kept staring at the wall and fantasising about leaving home.

It then rained, and rained and rained.  All. Bldy. Day. Long.  Nonetheless, I was dragged out for a second walk (totally unnecessary as He and Young Lad had taken me out in the morning) so that She could fulfil this ridiculous notion that we are still in the era of blackberry picking.  It was pants.  There was nobody else out in the rain and it annoyed me intensely.  

When we returned home, Young Lad wondered whether they could play a family board game; everyone was suddenly very busy with things to do. Poor Young Lad.  Do you know what he had to do instead?  Maths.  I kid you not.  Instead of a nice game of Monopoly or Cluedo, Young Lad was forced to sit down and go over a whole load of Maths that he got wrong several weeks ago.  This was unbelievably unkind.  It was  a Sunday  in the school holidays, for the love of God, and Young Lad should have been shouting  “it was Professor Plum in the library with the lead piping,” not finding the area of parallelograms!  Thankfully Young Lad gave up fairly quickly, and Lad’s attempts at ‘helping’ him didn’t go too well, so that nonsense was well and truly over.  Honestly how ridiculous.

Young Lad then said could they have Sunday tea, which involves home-made egg sandwiches and cakes etc, so She was back in the bldy kitchen for another bldy hour bldy cooking.  Sunday tea looked very nice, but nobody offered me any.

Now Lad was a little weary yesterday, due to Exam Results party #2 the night before.  I don’t think Lad had slept very much, and I sensed some shortness of temper.  Poor Lad.  It is Exam Results party#3 tonight, but Lad has very sensibly decided to give it a miss, with minimal nagging  encouragement from his parents.  Anyway, there is an Exam Results party #4 later in the week.  On this note, a letter has arrived from Lad’s school, inviting him back for Year 12.  This is kind of them.  There is a booklet with some simple Rules and Regulations, but Lad has already said none of it applies to him, so that’s ok.

I have had three walks today Readers, and this really is too much of a good thing.  This morning was the second tedious attempt at blackberrying, and then the whole family drove off to visit Grandad who is in hospital feeling unwell.  I have no doubt whatsoever that an hour of Lad and Young Lad talking to him whilst in a hospital bed unable to escape, has made him feel much better.  Plus they’ve very generously given Grandad a copy of my book and I feel sure that this will speed his recovery too.

Anyway, due to the long time they were out, dear Ebony’s Pack Leader came to let me out for a comfort break, and in fact took me out for a FUN walk with Ebony.  Not picking blackberries, not standing still talking to people, just a FUN ball-chasing walk.  It was marvellous.

Then after dinner tonight, She decided She needed another walk as the Exercise Quotient has been increased lately, so off I was dragged again.  This be madness, of course, but I had no choice but to go along with it.  As a result I am absolutely exhausted tonight and fit for nothing.  Gingercat has just walked across my head (being too lazy to jump down from the windowsill to the floor) and I barely noticed.  Meghan Markle does not expect this level of physicality from her Beagle.  I do hope the book arrives tomorrow so that I can post it to her.

I have just farted quite loudly on the sofa, due to the amount of greengages I have eaten from the garden.  Young Lad is laughing; inappropriately, I feel.

Despite my extreme physical and mental tiredness, I have used two Shakespeare quotes in my writing tonight, which I personally think is superb.  Free dog biscuit to anyone who can spot them.  

Bye for now,






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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: