After nine hours asleep I woke feeling like death warmed up to find Pogo snoring at my feet. “er indoors TM” and Treacle had gone downstairs to play with the puppies. Treacle has gone from an utter disdain for the puppies to supervising them when she feels the need. This morning she was insistent that the puppies didn’t play with a particular cardboard box. The puppies had no interest in that box until Treacle had started to guard it. After a while we all lost interest in the box, and Treacle came and sat with me on the sofa regarding the puppies as God might judge a rather dubious creation. After a while Pogo came and joined us, and the sofa became something of a sanctuary from which the older ones could escape from the mayhem of the puppies.
I had a cuppa and peered into the Internet to see what I’d missed overnight. Someone was asking for details of holiday cottages on one of the local Facebook pages, and then having a little rant as every suggestion wasn’t on a regular major bus route that went from their house. But other than that, not a lot else was kicking off.
We settled the dogs and drove down to Folkestone Harbour where we met up with Jose and Maria at the Captain’s Table café for a spot of second brekkie. Jose had chips with his. Chips – with brekkie. That’s just wrong. But it was good to catch up. I’d not been to the Captain’s Table café before; it was rather good. But (like so many cafés) the place did echo. I could hardly hear what was being said.
We came home via The Range where I got a job lot of cobblestones.
“er indoors TM” dropped me at home (with the job lot of cobblestones) then went off to collect “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” and her entourage from the hospital and take them all home. I got busy in the garden. One of our water features wasn’t so much a “water” feature as a “green slime” feature. I don’t really mind the dogs drinking from the water features all the time they are drinking clean water, but I draw the line at drinking green slime. So I mucked out the green slime, and I filled what used to be a water-filled moat with cobblestones, then poured in water. The theory is that with the water being under the stones it won’t go green. Will that work? Time will tell; it always does.
I then got out the masonry paints and touched up the digging dog garden ornament and the two badger garden ornaments. It was at this point that Morgan somehow got white paint all over his nose.
I had a tin of fizz and a bag of crisps for lunch, then used the excess cobbles to fill two planters to make stands for the badger garden ornaments… it was a shame that there wasn’t enough cobbles, so I sent a message to “er indoors TM” to ask her to get some more.
I then spent a few minutes pushing the shingle round the pond about to make sure all the membranes were covered up. The stones get kicked about by the dogs so much. Ideally I’d like a couple of inches more depth of stones, but that would be a couple of tones more stones.
Feeling rather exhausted for no reason (post-COVID?) I sat on our new bench, and the babies immediately wanted to sit on my lap. Pogo then sat next to me, and Treacle sat on my feet, and there we were for an hour or so. The babies slept, I read my Kindle app, and Pogo formally declared the garden to be a “no fly zone” and got progressively more and more irate at the squadrons of pigeons and seagulls and starlings and sparrows who insisted on conducting provocative sorties purely to wind him up.
“er indoors TM” came home, and I went out to her car to get the bag of cobbles. It took less than a minute to do what I needed to do with them, and then we both went and sat by the pond for a bit. After a few minutes the nice people up the road sadly put their music on in their garden. Have you ever put your music on when you are in the garden? Here’s a tip. No one (no one at all!!!) likes anyone else’s choice of music in their garden.
But to be fair to them they’d not had it on for most of the day, my dogs hadn’t really been quiet today, and it was getting cold anyway.
I took a few photos as today went on.
Also as today had gone on I’d been looking at various Facebook pages. Sparks were playing in Bexhill this evening and having left it too late to get a ticket I was desperately hoping that someone might have been offering one for sale at the last minute. One person did…but sadly they got in touch about an hour after what was realistically the last minute.
Next time I will have to book the ticket earlier…
I say “next time”; being in their mid-seventies I have to wonder just how much longer they will be going on round-the-world tours.
Instead I scoffed a particularly good dinner that “er indoors TM” boiled up and washed it down with a bottle of plonk as we caught up on a couple of episodes of “Star Trek: Picard” that were OK… but only OK. Sadly “Star Trek: Picard” is all “Picard” and precious little “Star Trek”.
And today marks one year since my little Fudge-dog died… There have been some days over this last year when I haven’t had a quiet cry about him. But not many.
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