Young Lad’s Breakfast

potatoFollowing on from Jim’s Lunch which I ate the other day, yesterday it was the turn of Young Lad’s breakfast.  I sat so nicely waiting for Young Lad to finish his toast and banana, but he really was taking a ridiculously long time.  Young Lad does need to learn a thing or two about concentration, because he was too busy looking at a Youtube video on his phone and I saw yet another golden opportunity.  I leapt up and snatched the toast from his plate, running off to hide under the dining table with it.  This meant that a) Young Lad didn’t have much breakfast before school and b) I was happy.

You will  notice that tonight’s blog picture is not Young Lad’s breakfast, as it is not traditional to eat a raw peeled potato before school. I’m not sure when it is traditional to eat a raw peeled potato, but I decided to have one while dinner was being cooked last night.   A large pile of potatoes were being peeled for creamy mash, when one wobbled to the edge of the working surface and balanced there precariously.  I  helped it find its way to my mouth and ran off to my bed with it, even though I was being shrieked at in a fishwife-like way.  Now, in truth I’m not over-keen on the taste of raw potato but I’ll have a go at anything. It was a little bland but filled a corner.

Readers, I’ve had another bath with the expensive fox poo shampoo.  Yes that’s two baths in four days.  This is because I was rolling round and round waving my legs in the air in Far Field yesterday; She was busy talking to people and not supervising me properly which meant I could really enjoy myself.  It’s no good screaming and running across the field – if one was being properly responsible for one’s dog and not treating my walk as a social event, the problem wouldn’t have been as bad.  And so it was that I was dragged all the way home and made to jump in the bldybath again, and then the bldybathroom had to be bleached and scrubbed again on a day when time was bldyprecious to start with.  Are you picking up the sense of irritation?

Then after the Frantic Cleaning of the bathroom there was Frantic Hoovering of the house, which annoyed me as it was noisy and I was trying to sleep – mind you I couldn’t sleep for shaking, as I was quite cold after my bath and nobody snuggled me up lovingly in towels to help me dry.   So I lay in my bed shivering and shaking, wet and cold and nobody cared.  All because I caused a little more pressure on time for goodness sake.  Eventually She took a tiny bit of pity on me and chucked a dry towel over me as She walked past with the hoover – such compassion.

There was a heck of a lot of going in and out yesterday.  Really, it is too much to ask for a little quiet sometimes?  In the evening She went out again – this time down to Lovelydor down the road who had received some sad news, and of course in the absence of any better ideas, She took yet another  small cake.  I know for a fact, Readers, that Gordon popped in to visit Lovelydor and She during this hour, which is not very good on a school night, is it?  Needs must, apparently.

I heard today that my friend Delilah the Basset has been practising more of the skills that she has learned from me.  During a social event recently Delilah ate an impressive amount of pizza and chocolate cake, neither of which were technically for her. I have taught Delilah all she knows about taking golden opportunities when you see them and I am proud of how my protege is developing.  I will still snarl and snap at her next time I see her as regardless of how well she’s progressing in these skills, I still find her rather irritating, but I have to say Well Done Delilah.

Today, Friends, I have been to dear, dear Ebony’s house for daycare and had a lovely time.  I didn’t steal anyone’s lunch and was impeccably behaved.  In Ebony’s garden there are always lots of bird seed things out on the bird table for the Stupid Starlings, and I did eat quite a large amount of fallen bird seed. This means that my comfort breaks will be gritty and sparkly for a while.  Seeds don’t digest properly you see.  It’s not my fault.

Young Lad is still complaining about the terrible injury he sustained during a football match on Sunday. He is even remembering to limp when anyone is looking.  Poor Young Lad does not receive the sympathy he should, and I know how he feels.  It is simply not true that Young Lad has been kicking a rugby ball round the lounge on his injured leg.  Lies.   And it doesn’t mean your leg is okay if you are able to stand in the kitchen flipping pancakes – flipping pancakes doesn’t cause strain on an injured leg whereas PE at school does.

Yes, it’s that Shrove Tuesday time of year again and there was a hurried dash into Tesco on the way home from work tonight as nobody had thought to be prepared with lemons, brown sugar and the like.  Young Lad made a lovely bowl of batter and made a very good attempt at flipping the pancakes – actually far more skilful than the adult who was meant to be supervising (well we know what ‘supervision’ means don’t we) – and only one ended up on the floor.  I was in there quick as a flash, so there was no chance of the five second rule being applied.  It would have been nicer with some sugar on it, but like the raw potato, I gave it a go.  I am nothing if not willing.

Oh.  It seems I have to stop writing and hand the laptop over to Lad as he wants to buy some Festival tickets, and his phone is RUBBISH because the screen is CRACKED and he can’t see ANYTHING on it.  Poor Lad.

Bye for now,

Russell

In memory of Keith   1969-2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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