23 July 2012 (Monday) - Walkies
It was quite nice to be greeted by my grand-dog when I came downstairs this morning. I had a spot of brekkie whilst listening to him destroying an old lemonade bottle. I've found that all the time I can hear something, I know what he's up to. It's when things go quiet that I need to worry.
Things went quiet and I found him drinking from the garden pond. Ten minutes later things went quiet again, and I had a minor panic. He'd disappeared. I was having visions of calling the police and lost dog services when I eventually heard a scurrying. He'd got stuck under the shed. Silly pup. He got himself out, and I went to unload the washing machine. When I came back to the garden the daft pup was rolling in cat poo. I chased him out of that, pegged out the washing and went inside to change my shoes. When I came back Fudge was soaking wet. Absolutely sodden. I can only imagine that he'd been in the garden pond.
Leaving the house came as a blessed relief.
I eventually got the lead onto Fudge (it took some doing) and we met up with Steve and his pups. Together we went for a bit of a walk to give the dogs a bit of exercise. We went through Viccy Park to Singleton and on to Great Chart. Across the lands of Godington Park to Sandyhurst Lane, and then up to the north end of Kennington. We stopped for a sandwich and a crafty half at the Pheasant, and then came home across the new bridge and along the river. Three and a half hours; about ten miles. It was a lovely day, and it was good to get out and about.
Home, to find consternation. The idea of us having Fudge for the week is because "My Boy TM" and his crew are holidaying in Great Yarmouth. We had Fudge arrive last night so that they could get away promptly this morning. They got away slightly less promptly than they might have done, got as far as Maidstone (which is about ten per cent of the way there) when there was a loud bang, all the lights on the dashboard lit up, and the car fizzled to a halt. This is the sort of thing which is absolutely hilarious provided that it is happening to someone else.
He got towed home, and I came home to find a houseful making insurance arrangements for them to take the "er indoors TM"-mobile on holiday. They've all set off now, and are (presumably) going to worry about their car when they get home at the end of the week.
With the house to myself and Fudge worn out (for once) I got my latest batch of beer into the barrel, and had rather a lazy afternoon. Until we lost the Internet connection. Oh, I got angry with it. It was at that point that "Daddies Little Angel TM" crashed through the door shrieking about trivia, which made my blood boil even more...