I slept well, as did the puppies despite me having a trip to the loo in the small hours. I’ve worked out that if I go to the loo whilst it is still dark, they don’t think it is time to get up.
I finally did get up when my phone told me to “get your arse out of its pit” at seven o’clock, and spent ten minutes chivvying puppies round the garden in the desperate hope that they would “unload”.
They unloaded.
Pausing only briefly to continue eating the bathroom doorstop, the puppies got settled back down, and I drove a car-full of cardboard, polystyrene packaging and black sacks of rubbish to the tip. The tip had attracted its usual quota of idiots… whereas most people take rubbish straight from their car to the appropriate bin, one particularly stupid woman was arranging all of her rubbish in a nice little display around her car, and was getting more and more frustrated as everyone else was tripping over and through it.
As I drove home the pundits on the radio were interviewing the head honcho of Ofgem who was explaining that Ofgem don’t set the prices of gas and leccie; they just make sure that the companies selling it do so at a fair price. It was a shame that the chap was utterly unable to say what a fair price was, or to outline the criteria by which Ofgem determine this fair price.
Once home I made toast, then we moved everything back to being in the way so that the nice man would have space to continue sorting the kitchen. I made some toast and coffee which I scoffed (having wedged myself between table and sofa) whilst peering into the Internet. It was still there and was much the same as ever. Today’s amazingly trivial squabble was in one of the Hastings-related Facebook groups in which people were pretending to be offended that Rolf Harris had appeared in the local theatre fifty years ago.
I had some emails telling me that geocaches I’d hidden have been found, and ones of mine which had been marked as missing had also now been found. Either they weren’t missing at all, or someone’s done me the favour of replacing them. Both alternatives are good.
I then took the puppies to the vets. Morgan is now five point one kilogrammes and Bailey is two point five. Morgan’s weight gain wasn’t really a surprise, but I was pleased to find Bailey had put on weight. The nice nurse seemed happy with their progress, and I took them home and did a dog swap.
Leaving “er indoors TM” with the babies I took the bigger dogs up to Kings Wood where we walked for miles (I estimate about seven) investigating the paths that previously we’ve just walked past. As we walked we saw a buzzard swooping ridiculously low along one of the paths, and on hearing what really did sound like a double-decker bus driving through the undergrowth we saw a herd of deer running past; not twenty yards from us. If only I’d got my camera out quicker.
And then I had a moment of both pride and amazement when some random woman walked past with what I can only describe as “the hounds from hell” and she commented on how well-behaved Treacle and Pogo were.
After three hours we were back at the car park. We came home and fed the fish and then had a few minutes of “dog school”. Morgan is mastering coming to the sound of the whistle; Bailey seems to be following Treacle’s lead and mostly doing whatever the strange voices in her head prompt her to do. If she copies Treacle and follows her brother like a lost lamb, all will be well.
I then spent much of the rest of the afternoon either reading “Jeeves and Wooster”, sleeping, or trying to video the myriad birds that were having a wash in the pond’s splash pool.
“er indoors TM” has gone bowling. The car is loaded up with yet another load of rubbish for yet another tip run. The dogs are all asleep. I wonder how long this sleep will last…
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