Rubbish

rubbish There was an interesting selection of rubbish under the dining room table today, Readers, that was discovered when some tidying up was attempted.  I had dragged a whole load of stuff under there, which included a washing detergent pot, a crisp packet which I’d ripped up. several tea bags and some tissue soaked in tea bags.  These were particularly fun to leave on a light-coloured carpet.  Blackened, shrivelled banana skin also featured.  It was an eclectic mix.

I’m pleased to say that I’m not alone in my misdemeanours. Dear, dear Ebony was in trouble recently for going through the kitchen cupboards when her Pack Leaders were out, and helping herself to some treats. Ebony does love a biscuit, and was thrilled to find unopened packets of ginger nuts, chocolate digestives, bourbons and those expensive Leibniz ones.  I was very proud of Ebony for such a fantastic find.  She ate the lot and is a girl after my own heart. Of course poor Ebony was shouted and and told off; why can’t people celebrate the skill involved in these things, instead of moaning at us?  What’s wrong with them!

Tonight’s blog could be interesting Friends, as She has taken some medication to stop her bldy irritating cough and mucus problem.  The nice pharmacist said that these tablets have an antihistamine to stop the tickling and a decongestant to dry up the secretions.  What he didn’t tell her was that they are strong enough to knock out a horse for the night, and a schoolboy error has been made in taking this early in the evening.   Thank goodness they weren’t taken before or during cooking dinner, as the very unexciting jacket potatoes and omelette could have been more of a disaster than they were.  Anyway, if anyone has trouble sleeping do get in touch as I can pass on the name of the powerful medicine that has reduced She to a zombie.

Today I was shoved in the car again and taken out for another long pub walk, with Young Lad’s friends.  It was nearly two miles along a woodland track and I did my damnedest to eat a flattened squirrel on the path but was yanked away. Later on a rabbit wandered past me into the bushes – I very nearly caught it but it was clearly old/ill/disabled so I took pity and decided to leave it alone.  This had nothing whatsoever to do with being on the lead.  At the pub, I was expected to sit nicely at a table in the sunshine while Young Lad and his friends drank carbonated rubbish and ate chips, and She and the other Pack Leader talked incessantly.  It was very tiresome and nobody gave me a chip despite me asking very politely. This selfish attitude gets on my nerves.

I was exhausted by the time we’d walked all the way back – plus we had to do a long detour through some private land to avoid an older chap with several aggressive dogs and no way of controlling them.  I didn’t fancy having my throat ripped open by a mutant Jack Russell so we had to clamber over a field for half a mile instead of staying on the path.

Once home I collapsed into my armchair with exhaustion and something very strange happened.  Young Lad and Lad played TOGETHER on the Xbox for over an hour WITH NO ARGUMENTS!!!  Nobody insulted anyone else, nobody shouted “are you actually all right in the head?” or hit anyone.  Readers, this is very unusual and just goes to show that wonders never cease.  Actually I don’t like it when they shout “are you all right in the head?” as Lad and Young Lad both have neurological challenges and clearly neither of them are, so it is very unfair.  But of course they won’t be told.

Not only that, but the Nintendo Wii was dusted off again last night!  I know – that’s twice recently that a family game has been played and laughter has been heard.  Gingercat and I are quite worried about recent events.

My post-walk sleep today was shattered by the arrival of the local friendly plumber who came to discuss doing a powerflush of the heating system.  This sounds akin to clearing out anal glands but doesn’t require a muzzle or a biscuit afterwards.  Though I suppose the plumber may want a cup of tea.  Now, a large national gas company had quoted over £800 to powerflush the heating system, whereas the friendly local plumber’s quote is less than half of that.  It wasn’t a difficult decision for She this afternoon.  What a good job the horse-knockout medication hadn’t been taken at this point.

This evening’s dinnertime debate was even more inane than usual.  Lad and Young Lad had a lengthy discussion about the best way to fight someone, and which parts of the body to use.  Lad feels that elbows and knees are perfectly acceptable as weapons although He, who was listening, said that this is fighting dirty.   Lad says he doesn’t care.  Young Lad then proceeded to ask He and She about all the occasions in life in which She or He have had to hit people and how it went.  It wasn’t a very profound debate tonight.

I had a lovely long walk in the sunshine at the river yesterday, and then there passed a frantic bldy afternoon of Half Term Stuff.  Young Lad needed a dental check-up. blood test and hair cut all in the space of two hours.  A mistake was made in going to the blood test clinic first – the waiting room was heaving and Young Lad’s ticket from the machine was number 86.  At present the phlebotomists were on person number 62.  This now required a difficult judgement call – whether to sit tight and hope to God they got through 24 blood tests in the next hour before the dentist appointment, or whether to risk it by diving out to the dentist and hoping they got back in time for number 86.  Readers this is gripping stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree!

As most of the people in the waiting room were very elderly and would take a while to get to their feet, into the blood test room and take their cardies off, it was decided to risk nipping out to the dentist.

Oh dear.  You know it and I know it.  This was a mistake.

Rushing back through the blood test clinic doors after a satisfactory check-up and being supplied with a great many toothpaste samples, Young Lad was dismayed to see that it was now number 92’s turn.

She of course became quite assertive and spoke to the blood test lady, explaining what had happened and that Young Lad really needed to be squeezed in.  Number 92 and 93 in the waiting room didn’t look best pleased and there was some low muttering, which She chose to ignore.  The senior blood test lady frowned and said they would do it this time but rules are rules and in future if you leave the building, you’ve missed your chance.  This seems fair enough to me, Friends.  Poor 92 and 93 had to wait whilst Young Lad was ushered in, and I feel this is very poor community spirit.  What sort of an example is this for Young Lad?  Talk about me, me, me.

Then it was time to dash for a haircut for Young Lad and eventually they made it home.  Young Lad was so tired he had no choice but to sit down on the sofa and She needed a cup of tea.  She bldy loves bldy half term, She said.

Lad of course had needed a nice long sleep, and finally made it out of bed at lunchtime.  Lad and I had a lovely afternoon chilling on the sofa whilst all this dashing around was going on.  Lad and I have a lot in common in the way in which we perceive half term.

I’ve just heard, Friends, that poor, poor Ebony was a little poorly after eating all those biscuits and her comfort breaks weren’t of the best consistency for a while. She was also very silly and rather hyper for a while due to all the sugar – poor Ebony.  I doubt she got much sympathy.

I had a lovely time at Nana aged 87’s house the other day, and managed to empty a waste paper bin all over the floor while they popped out for lunch.  Then there was a hideous ruddy 3 hour drive home due to the ruddy motorway and bldy traffic – look, the best thing to do is simply go to sleep and the journey passes by in a flash without the need for any huffing and puffing.

On the list of half-term jobs has been “brush the dog and cat.”  Has it been done?  Has it heck.  You would have thought  this afternoon after our long pub walk would have been the ideal time but no – catching up with GPs Behind Closed Doors was deemed more interesting.  It’s so hurtful.

Good Lord I’m tired tonight after that pub walk.

Bye for now,

Russell

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.

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