About
half an hour before the alarm would have gone off Treacle woke me with her
crying. I asked if she wanted the toilet, and she flew downstairs like a bullet
from a gun. Together with the puppies we went into the garden where Treacle
released a rather impressive (if you are impressed by such things) bout
of dire rear. Good girl for taking it outside.
With
dogs settled I made brekkie and watched another episode of “Better Than Us”,
then tuned in to the live feed (on the BBC Parliament Channel) of all
the people filing past the Queen’s coffin. For all the talk that you could
carry nothing in, quite a few were carrying handbags, back packs and all sorts
of rubbish. And few had dressed for the occasion. Most really did look as though
they had dressed to go clean out the shed. You would have thought they’d have
tidied themselves up a bit for such an occasion… wouldn’t you?
I
sparked up the lap-top and my piss boiled when I read a posting on the Kent
Dachshund group. There was a picture of one of the dogs from yesterday’s meet
who was supposedly unhappy after “the pug had had a go at him” at
yesterday’s meet-up. There was only one remotely pug-ish dog there, and for all
that Treacle had snapped at a couple of other dogs, she hadn’t nipped or made
contact in any way with any other dog, and had only ever reacted when the other
dogs made a point of pushing right into her face. There was another dog
mentioned by name who had supposedly had also “had a go”, but the only “goes”
I saw were the usual petty squabbles of dogs that are over as quickly as they
start. I had thought that everyone at yesterday’s meet knew what dogs are like;
if nothing else I now know one dog (and owner) to avoid. I thought about
posting up a comment to correct the accusation, but thought better of it. It
would achieve nothing but to fan a squabble which would otherwise be forgotten
in minutes.
And
I had a little sulk when I saw that I’d missed the first of the year’s bonfire
parades last night.
Taking
care to let sleeping dogs lie I got ready for work, and seeing it was light
outside and that certain dogs (Bailey) were sleeping, I zoomed round the
garden with a bowl and trowel gathering dog dung before certain dogs (Bailey)
went out for an early breakfast (dogs are foul creatures).
As
I drove to work there was an article on the radio about coral reefs. This sort
of thing makes for good viewing on the telly, but rather dull listening on the
radio, so I turned on my music and sang along to "Ivor Biggun"
as I drove to work.
I
stopped off to get petrol on the way, and made the mistake of asking if they
would be open tomorrow morning (as I might need a sandwich for work).
The woman on the till actually did look me up and down, then peering down her
nose at me (quite literally) she told me (in a very patronising tone
of voice) that absolutely no one at all is working tomorrow because it is the
Queen’s funeral.
One
lives and learns. I thought it best not to suggest that she might be mistaken.
I
went in to work and got on with that which I could not avoid, grumbling that I
would rather not have been working. Half-way through the afternoon my phone
beeped; my colleague who worked the morning with me had gone down the pub and
had met another colleague. The two of them said they were having a beer for me…
I
came home, and had a little pootle in the garden, and then Brian and CA called
in for a cuppa. They only stayed for an hour, but the time flew by. It was so
good to catch up; we can’t have seen each other for over five years. Really
mustn’t leave it so long again.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we washed down with an incredibly good bottle of wine (Aldi
- £3.50!). Described as “fruity and elegant” it was certainly one of
the better wines I’ve ever had.
As
we scoffed and drank we watched last week’s episode of “Bake Off”.
The bits of today when
I wasn’t working weren’t bad at all… a shame I’ve got to work tomorrow…
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