I woke to a text message. Waters had broken at four o’clock and (apparently) there was a lot of swearing going on at the hospital.
As I had a shave yet another COVID test incubated. This one was negative… that was nice. Having missed a holiday to which I had been looking forward for months, I am now fit to go back to work tomorrow.
I made toast and had my usual root around the internet. It would seem there are moves afoot to sort out the stupidity at the local tip. During lockdown the council brought in a scheme by which you could only turn up at the tip by appointment (booked some time in advance). The council then confirmed that the public liked this idea by holding a public consultation that they didn’t publicise…
The scheme doesn’t really work for me – I don’t really know when I’m going to have a load of rubbish for the tip, and when I do I have no idea if it is a couple of bin bags or a couple of car-fulls. It has been suggested that the appointment system be kept for the weekends, but be dropped during the weekdays. A sensible compromise… you can sign the petition by clicking here.
And the White Rock Theatre in Hastings has announced its pantomime for next Christmas. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, but… next Christmas? It’s only April.
I walked Pogo and Treacle round the block, and once home they were soon both settled. We were just about to set off when the phone rang. News from the hospital. “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” had been taking a while to produce, but the baby had arrived. Such a shame that the hospital has a “no visitors at all - grandparents can piss off” policy.
But unvisited granddaughters notwithstanding we had a plan for today. We set off up the motorway. All week long I’d been listening to the news saying about “Operation Brock” and how the motorway was closed. We were able to drive up the motorway London-bound (albeit at only fifty miles per hour). For the first ten miles there was nothing coming back the other way. Now that was not “not much traffic”. That was “absolutely nothing at all”. After ten miles we saw one lorry coming down the motorway. And then there was about one lorry every half-mile or so until we got out of the “Operation Brock” bit at the junction by Leeds Castle.
There had been absolutely nothing in the coast-bound carriageways, and absolutely no reason at all for them to be closed.
It wasn’t long before we were in Meopham where we collected the puppies. During the week I’d been having second thoughts. A year ago we had four dogs and (much as I loved them all) four dogs was too many. But I took one look at the puppies and realised we’d done the right thing. Both babies were quite happy to be picked up, and once Ellie-Dog-Lady had said goodbye we set off home-wards.
We had taken up a dog-carry-bag to transport them in, but we thought they might be frightened in it. So as “er indoors TM” drove I held them as they slept.
We broke up the journey by calling in to see Karl, Tracey and the girls. The puppies had a drink, we had a cuppa, and chief dog wrangler got to see that which she would be wrangling over the next few walks (and years).
We were almost home when little boy pup was nearly sick all over me.
Needing collars and tags we stopped off at Bybrook Barn. We’ve got collars and leads from them before and always found their stuff good and their staff helpful. As we tried on collars and were fussed by an adoring public so little girl pup tried to pick a fight with a rather huumgous Alsatian. She’ll fit in just fine with the other women of the family(!)
And so home for what could have been rather awkward… introducing the babies to Pogo and Treacle. I sat in the front garden with the babies, and “er indoors TM” fetched Pogo and Treacle out. The introduction went about as well as could be expected, and we all then walked through to the back garden where we spent an hour or so getting to know each other.
The little boy seemed quite amiable and friendly. The little girl seemed rather frightened of everyone and everything and feels she needs her brother to protect her. Pogo still looks at them with a “WTF” expression, and Treacle has (so far) mostly pretended to studiously ignored them.
I took quite a few photos of the puppies while we were in the garden… shame they weren’t good photos. Little girl did a tiddle in the garden, and three poops on the carpet when we came inside. Having set up a dog crate for the puppies, they set up their own little nest under the dog ladder (which is there for dogs to get to the sofa) and promptly went to sleep.
“er indoors TM” came up with a decent bit of dinner, and with it scoffed I sat in front of the telly. I had the small babies to my right, and (rather amazingly) Treacle came and sat on my left. She slept as the babies growled at the telly. The little girl seems to really dislike the telly.
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