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Location: Cornwall, United Kingdom

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Winter

It's the last day of the month, and S is happy because he's been paid, so his overdraft is temporarily removed. Reminds me of the state of my food bin: it's been nearly empty for some time, but does anyone think to order more Arden Grange Adult food for me? Oh, no. Let the dog starve. No-one thinks of the dog.

Last Friday's snow didn't last long. I can remember the last time I really saw snow in Cornwall - it doesn't happen often - in St Stephen, and the college was closed as the students' coaches couldn't get through the moors and hills. S went to the pub at lunchtime with his snowed-in neighbours; his excuse was he needed to post some OU essays he'd marked. Several hours later they all came back much the worse for wear. Some quite important professional people were hors de combat for some time. G came home to find me hungry and distressed, all the doors open, and S snoring in bed; he hadn't fed me, walked me or anything . I felt like a chav dog. Though that word hadn't been invented then.

So after the snow started thawing on Saturday we weren't able to go anywhere, and had the most boring walks. At least G has been home this week, though she spends all her time in her office, staring at her electronic toys, and despite my best efforts to distract her she pays little attention to me.

S came home early today: one of his staff was leaving, so they brought her over to a posh restaurant in Truro for lunch. She's into food and menus, and it seemed, so S said, appropriate. Me, I'd have preferred a run on the beach. Well, maybe not a run these days, but a brisk stroll. I'm not allowed in restaurants for some reason.

Then he came home and went to sleep. Said he's not used to eating so much at lunchtime. I don't get ANYTHING to eat at lunchtime. Did find the crust of a pasty when we went for our evening walk this evening, but it's hardly the same as a Stingi Lulu box. Whatever that is.

G wanted to watch Trinni and Susanna tonight, so S retired up here to look at British Library archives on the net, and other fascinating things of the sort, so I persuaded him to update my blog. I know it's not one of my best, but then my life is pretty dull, punctuated by moments of mediocrity. Don't feel it isn't worth knowing about. S says Nietzsche said that the dullest life is redolent of mystery and power. I think he just made it up. Who the hell is Nietzsche when he's at home, anyway? Mad Max the border collie down the road thinks he used to play for Bayern Munich in the seventies, but as Max is only two years old, how would he know?

Off to Weston on Saturday to see the sprout in Nikki. It's the snow-postponed visit. Apparently it's a very precocious baby: seems to be engaged already. Some sort of arranged thing, no doubt. We're supposed to be going for lunch in a dog-friendly pub somewhere; I don't understand why restaurants ban dogs. They let children in...

Anyway, S wants to go and watch Lost now, for some reason. I quite like it: there's this really hot labrador retriever in it; bit of a Californian airhead, but great bod.

I'm not shallow, I'd have you know. I've watched S read War and Peace, and modern stuff like Paul Auster, who has an excellent novel about a dog called Timbuktoo. Implausible, cos he talks American, but apart from that, quite compelling.