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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