I woke early to find
Fudge had gone back to his basket overnight. At bed time last night he stood at
the bottom of the stair and looked pathetically up them as though going up was
akin to climbing Mount Everest. So I carried him up and settled him at the
bottom of the bed where he obviously didn’t stay.
He does this so often –
he wants to come upstairs at bed time, then after an hour or so goes back to
his basket.
With things to do on
the morning’s itinerary I walked the dogs earlier than usual today. Viccie Park
is rather pretty at six o’clock with the mist rising from the river. As we
walked we met dog walkers we’ve never met before, but not many. We didn’t meet
many people at all compared to our usual walks. Six o’clock was good. We could
just walk without all the dramas we so often experience.
Mind you we did meet
one rather special person. Armed with a grabbing-stick and a black sack, a
beetroot-faced fellow was ranting about the mess and what a terrible job the
council does and how if he doesn’t clear the mess up, no one will. I smiled
sweetly and bit my tongue. Didn’t this idiot realise it was half past six in
the morning the day after the fun fair had been in full flow until all hours?
And there wasn’t *that* much mess
anyway.
We came home, the dogs
scoffed their brekkie and I settled them and set off to Margate. As I drove the
pundits on the radio were still ranting about Boris Johnson’s most
recent faux-pas.
And there was also talk
about the weed killer glyphosate which amazed me. Some chap in America has been
awarded damages having claimed the stuff gave him
cancer. Did it? I don’t know. The pundits on the radio wheeled on
one of the top nobs at the firm that makes the stuff. This chap took the line
that a court’s opinion on the matter outweighs any scientific evidence on the
matter. Isn’t that a sad sign of our times?
I got to Margate, parked up, and found Sam in the
shop. "Daddy’s
Little Angel TM" had taken the dogs for a walk so I went
over to the beach to find them. "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM"
was proudly brandishing a snail he’d captured; the boy seems to have developed
something of a mollusc obsession.
We went back to the
shop, collected Sam, and leaving Steve (whoever
he is) in charge we went fifty yards up the road to the Westbrook
café for brekkie. Sam and "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" had poached eggs on toast; me and the most recent fruit of my loins had
the full English, even if most recent grandchild did keep raiding it.
Once we’d scoffed I
took "Daddy’s
Little Angel TM" to the cash and carry. She loaded the
trolley; I pushed it. I was amazed at what she was buying; the sort of stuff
that appealed to me doesn’t sell whereas the stuff I wouldn’t touch with a
barge pole flies out of the shop.
The plan had been to
get to Bookers for opening time… we were only running two hours late by the
time we’d paid for it all.
I would have liked to
have hung around and got in the way at the shop, but time was pushing on so I
headed home. I stopped off for petrol at Sainsbury’s, and wished I hadn’t. as I
was queuing someone walked in and asked what he should do if he’d spilled some
petrol. Immediately all but one of the petrol station staff went outside to
have a look. The queue got longer and longer as the staff stood round a small
puddle of petrol. Not one was actually doing anything, but they were all
watching it intently.
I came home, and
watched “Orange is the New Black” as
I scoffed the sandwich I got at the petrol station. And with telly watched and
lunch scoffed I got the dogs organized and we set off to Lower Halstow. With an
hour or two spare before the evening’s geo-meet I thought I might walk the dogs
round the area for a bit (using the local
geocaches to mark out a walk for us) so that when it was time for the meet
the dogs would be a little less excitable.
It was an idea which
almost worked…
We soon got to Lower
Halstow and had a rather good walk here and there. The views across the marshes
were pretty; the dogs found black mud. As always the geocaches did mark out a
route for us. We didn’t find all of them, but the walk was still good. We
started the walk with very hyperactive hounds, and as I wandered up to the pub
(where the meet-up was to take place)
I could see the dogs were both very calm and subdued.
I was first one to get
to the meet – I got a glass of pop and asked for some pork scratchings for the dogs.
The nice lady asked it they might prefer hand made dog biscuits. I got them
some blueberry and honey ones.
In retrospect that was
my mistake.
I can remember taking cubs
to Baden Powell House in London for an overnight stay many years ago. We’d had
a long day, when we got to BPH the kids were worn out and dead on their feet.
Just as they were getting into bed one bright spark gave out barley sugar
sweets and the kids were up and running round like things possessed all night
long.
This was *exactly* what happened to my dogs this
evening. They sparked up immediately after they had those biscuits.
Five minutes later
people arrived. I managed to give it half an hour - it would have been good to
have stayed longer but the dogs were just too wound up. We came home where
eventually they calmed down, and once they’d had their dinner we shared a kebab.
Today was rather busy. I
took a few photos whilst I was out and about. I seem to have done an awful
lot today…
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