I lay awake for some time last night being unable to
sleep; all the time with a nagging feeling something was awry. I suddenly had
inspiration, activated my CPAP machine, and slept like a log despite a rather
vivid dream in which "My
Boy TM" had taken up jogging and had jogged down to join us
in the New Forest and was insistent that I might jog back with him.
I
was woken by the loud crash of one of the dogs falling off of the bed at five
o’clock. Minor mayhem ensued, and as they were up I thought they might want to
“use the facilities”. Fudge
obediently headed to the back door; Treacle shot upstairs and came back looking
very pleased with herself having stolen someone’s socks.
As
I was up I thought I might as well have a shave. As I finished my scrape
Treacle came and showed me the slipper she’d stolen.
I
boiled the kettle, and over a cuppa tuned my lap-top into the cottage’s wi-fi.
I managed to tell the world about yesterday’s exploits but for some
inexplicable reason I was utterly unable to post up a photo album of what had
happened yesterday. Odd… I eventually
posted it from my phone. I wondered why the lap-top wasn’t having
it? The untapped beer-logging app hadn’t worked yesterday either. Eventually I
found it all worked if using my mobile data. Presumably the cottage’s wi-fi
wasn’t having it.
It
wasn’t long before everyone was up and about, and after brekkie (bacon sarnies – oh yes) we set off.
Trying very hard not to run over the horses, ponies and cows that were all over
the roads (fences are banned in the New Forest)
we made our way to one of loads of little parking spots, and we took the dogs
for a rather good wander through the forest.
We
had a good walk; the dogs had a rather good spuddle. Treacle found a swamp. I’ve
never seen mud quite as thick, gloopy and stagnant as that in the swamp she
fell in.
We
wound the windows of the car down as we then drove to the quaint little village
of Burley. I’ve heard good reports of the place; it would be good to go back
when all the tourists (like me) have
gone somewhere else.
We
sat in the beer garden of the Burley Inn and had a couple of pints as the local
chickens mocked the dogs. Have you every seen a dog which has been mocked by a
chicken? The chickens are harsh, and the dogs take it to heart.
Our
next port of call was the Ringwood brewery. I’ve not been there before, but I’ve
tried their beer. We chatted with the brewer and came out with a couple of
gallons of ale.
Whilst
everyone else then did the shopping, Charlotte and I took the dogs for a little
stroll.
Once
back at base it was dog-scrubbing time.
Oh
dear…
In
retrospect the dogs had dried. It might have been as well just to brush them
down. They both got a serious scrub in the shower (complete with baby shampoo) and once pristine they were both
allowed into the garden to shake off. Both ran to the end of the garden and
rolled in the dirt that they had been digging earlier. Once "er indoors
TM" had laid an egg she washed them again.
A
couple of points of Ringwood’s best washed down a rather good curry. And as the
dogs snored on the sofa we played “Who’s
In The Bag” – a game in which you have to guess the celebrity that someone
is describing. An odd game – it *really*
hinges on having heard of the celebrities in the first place.
Today
was rather good. There are a few
photos of the day here.
Bearing
in mind tomorrow’s early start, the second glass of port might not have been a
wise move…
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