I
woke after six hours sleep, and lay in bed for a further hour desperately
fighting off getting up for a tiddle. Silly really; had I got up, done what I
had to and gone back to bed I could have had a restful time in bed rather than
a rather painful one.
I
eventually got up and since I was up I sparked up the lap-top to see what was
happening in the world. It looks like quite a few people have waited for us to
come back from our holiday before going off on theirs. I found myself
reflecting on the last week. I didn’t really want to go, but I am glad that I
did. I’m beginning to wonder where I can go next. I’ve done Greece; Turkey
perhaps? I’m told that the touristy stuff in Egypt and the North African coast
is dodgy; I’ve heard several tales of shopkeepers locking tourists in their
shops until they buy something. There has been talk of the Dominican Republic (where’s that?)
I
quite like the sound of a cruise up the Danube. Romania and eastern Europe
might be good. But wherever it is, I need to scare up the money. By the time
we’d paid for the holiday, paid for long-stay parking, and extra apartment hire
(until the coach arrived), got some
new swimmies and a suitcase, and squandered cash whilst out and about, the week
away probably cost about a thousand pounds each. I need to make some serious
economies elsewhere to find that amount of money again.
I
took the dogs for our morning constitutional round the park. As we walked we
met an odd couple we see from time to time. The husband of this odd couple
carries their dog for the entre walk just in case they should meet other dogs (I once met them when my hounds were at home
and they explained they didn’t want their dog mixing with the sort of dog that
that frequents Viccie Park). The wife of this pair pointed at Treacle this
morning, screamed, and announced to the world “that dog is eating something disgusting”. I tried to laugh it off;
dogs *do* eat disgusting things. That’s
what dogs do, as I told her. “Our dog
doesn’t” she announced, looking at me as though I was the shit on her shoe.
Silly
cow!
We
came home and I realised I’d not had any brekkie. I quickly boiled up some
toast, then mowed the lawn. I soon stopped and cleared up seemingly tons of dog
dung, then mowed the lawn properly.
I
spent a little time looking through my fishing gear this morning; usually I
find out that I’m running low on whatever at the lakeside, and promptly forget
about it. Then when I am next near a tackle shop I buy what I think I need. And
then I find I have ten thousand hooks but no floats. I also spent a little
while overhauling some bite alarms that "My Boy TM"
left in the shed years ago. The batteries had corroded away, but I eventually
got two out of three of the things working again.
I
settled the dogs and went shopping. First of all to Wickes to get a metpost and
a fence post. One of the posts has rotted away and nice-next-door says if I get
the ingredients he’ll do the work. I’m only too happy to take him up on his
offer.
I
also went to the tackle shop to get some odds and ends. Whilst there I met Gary
(who did our attic conversion). He
told me of a lake he likes in Somerset. It sounded really good, but Somerset?
Home
again; I scoffed a quick lunch then set about ironing all that I washed
yesterday. That took a little time; enough time to watch two episodes of “The Last Ship” and one of “Victoria”, and I was just dozing off
when "Daddy’s Little Angel TM" arrived with "Stormageddon
- Bringer of Destruction TM" and the dogs.
She
had to collect some parcels from Beaver Lane; did I fancy the walk?
Personally
I don’t like these home delivery services; I won’t order anything that doesn’t
come by Royal Mail. Take the delivery we collected today. MyYodel delivered the
stuff to a shop a mile away. If we wanted it delivered to home we would have to
pay extra and wait in all day. So we walked for a mile to find that half of the
delivery hadn’t actually arrived, and what had been sent was wrong.
As
we walked back through the park Fudge’s lead broke, and "Stormageddon -
Bringer of Destruction TM" had a total melt-down when we
picked up the poo that our dogs had just done. I kept giggling, and screaming “MUMMY LEAVE THE POO!!” at twenty second
intervals.
Mind
you it wasn’t all bad. Just as we were getting the dogs back onto their leads (and bodging Fudge’s) "Daddy’s
Little Angel TM" asked me where "Stormageddon -
Bringer of Destruction TM" was. Jokingly I said “In the pond, I expect”. There was then a
scream. He *was* in the pond. He’d
waded in. His mother went mental at him.
I
had intended to do so much more today, but by the time we got home it was
getting on for 6pm. I dozed for a bit more, then "er indoors TM"
came home with fish and chips. We scoffed them whilst watching three episodes
of a documentary about the making of “Only
Fools and Horses”.
I
stayed awake for most of it…
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