26 February 2012 (Sunday) - Two Dogs and a Walk

For all that I had a very tiring day yesterday I didn't sleep that well last night. I couldn't stop worrying about how my grand-dog Fudge was doing downstairs spending the night in the kitchen. Eventually I got up a couple of hours earlier than I usually would on a Sunday only to find the dog quite happily fast asleep. I was about to go back to bed when his ears pricked up, his head picked up, and he came running over to me. So much for my going back to bed.
We'd had no pottty emergencies overnight, but he had been sick. There were small sharp lumps in the vom: presumably he'd eaten something that he shouldn't. But dogs do that. I let him out into the garden where he did something else that dogs do, and then we played for an hour or so. For that hour this morning he was my devoted companion. And then "er indoors TM" came downstairs, and (as far as the dog was concerned) it was as though I no longer existed. It's quite clear who his favourite is.

The morning was spend slobbing about browsing the Internet. I didn't feel one hundred per cent - my insides were having a serious rumble, and I had a vague headache. I did have three pints last night - was it a hangover? If so then I am seriously thinking of giving up the beer altogether. I've mentioned before that it is a lot of expense just to put on weight and to feel ill.

After a while we got dressed and set off to Folkestone where the clans had gathered, and several of us set off on a walk along the Leas to the Coastal Park. The smaller ones among us played on the kiddy toys, then we met up with the Hoseys and we wandered down to the beach. We sat on the waters edge and enjoyed the sunshine. I wished I had my swimming trunks with me - I would have gone for a dip; the day was that lovely. And to think that it was only three weeks since we'd been sledging in the snow.
We walked back past the Leas Cliff beer festival, which was in full flow. In years gone by I would have stopped for a crafty half. But not any more. It's not "me" any more. A shame? possibly. But we carried on past the festival, waved goodbye to some of our number, and then wandered through the harbour, up a really steep flight of stairs, and slowly made our way back to our Folkestonian base. We had a quick cuppa, the dogs did their thing, and then we came home.

A quick catalogue retrieval, a bite of tea, and then the dirty weekenders arrived to collect Fudge. They'd had a good time, but the trip was marred by a speeding fine and three points on the driving licence following falling foul of a speed trap in Bexhill. But Fudge was pleased to see them, and with all his accessories packed into the car, they set off with Fudge. And the house now seems a much quieter place....

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