Location: Cornwall, United Kingdom

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Midweek update

It’s ten days since my last posting, and I’m really excited, cos I’ve had my first reply: R replied and said he was dead impressed by my creative talents. This comes, as you might expect, as no real surprise to me, but it’s gratifying to be acknowledged. It’s not every retroodle blessed with my gifts. Thank you, R, you’re a gem. Even if you do own cats.

We have G’s mum Mary staying with us this week. She’s convalescing after a nasty operation on her neck. We went up to WsM to collect her at the w/e. I like this, as it means there’s company for me all day. She’s been doing the ironing, so S & G are happy; they don’t iron very frequently.

This will have to be fairly brief, as I haven’t had my evening walk yet, and G and M have just gone to Sainsbury’s to get some food for tonight. Trout, perhaps. Don’t care for the bones, myself, but who listens to me…

He’s been meant to do his online tax return since about May, and now has just till the end of the month, else they fine him and send the boys round to break his knees: typical. He’s only just got his user id and whatnot, and is sweating on getting his Pin activation in time. If he was one of his students, doing coursework, he’d give them a really hard time, and lecture them on the importance of time management. Hypocrite and slowcoach.

G and M have now arrived back, so he’ll be in trouble for not having walked me yet, so I’d best let him go. Nuthatches came back at the weekend, so he’s happy again; geek.

Baby Jack was visited too, and I got finally to sniff his bottom. Bit of a disappointment as it turned out: they’d just changed him. He was ok. Not much attention paid to me, though.

January nearly over; S says buds are starting to sprout, daffodil spears to thrust up: who cares, I say. You can’t eat either.

George Galloway. Need I say more?

My blog seems not to be causing much of a stir: maybe people don’t let their dogs log on. This is disturbing.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

January blues, with nuthatches

G has gone to London for three days. When she comes back she’ll be off again. S and I went to the train station with her. It was raining and windy. Like something out of Brief Encounter. I should script a new film called Long Separation. This means S will have to do my morning walks, and he doesn’t do such long ones as G. He gets anxious about missing his train to work, or my running off and not coming back. He needs to chill.

We went to the woods this morning. It was very muddy. I liked this. Not many dogs out in the inclement conditions. Yesterday to Charlestown for the coastal path, then G went to get acupunctured up. Me and S went to the Rashleigh for some 6X and he read the holiday brochure that G left for him so she can book the holiday. There was a weird dog there called Brodie; a collie crossed with a spaniel, with dodgy eyes and a penchant for ice-cubes. His owner gave me some, and I must say they were quite agreeable, in a crunchy, tasteless sort of way.

Photos of baby Jack have arrived; he gets to look more like Charles Kennedy every day. Could be worse, I suppose: Minz Campbell…

Thursday S has an open event at work, so I shall be left dog alone, unless Alison can be prevailed upon to come and take me out and give me my tea. She and D are probably in Patagonia or something. Poor old Harvey has no chance with their wanderlust. For a bearded collie he’s ok.

S didn’t buy any more birdfood today, which is annoying, as I quite like licking up all the bits that fall to the floor. No nuthatches lately, so he’s annoyed; who cares – stupid birds.

He’s back at work tomorrow, so a bit morose. Just been looking at FR Leavis books on Amazon, as he’s reading Hayman’s biography. Can’t think why he doesn’t just go for the vet books of James Herriot, like any other person. Pseudo-intellectual maunderings. Any book with no dogs in it is not worth the attention. Apart, of course, anything to do with Dalmatians. They’re not really dogs: deaf, all of them, and up their own bottoms. With their stupid spots. Whippy tails. More Friesian than canine.

Jack is supposed to be coming to stay next month, his first visit. Can’t wait to check out his nappy. What a concept: poo when and where you like… and then take it with you!