The
plan wasn’t to wake to the sound of torrential rain. The plan was that the rain
would have stopped overnight. But as I shaved the rain eased off a bit, so I
thought we’d go on our planned trip to the woods; after all. If the rain came
back, we’d shelter for a bit and come back home again.
As
we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about that idiot Donald Trump.
Apparently he’d backed several candidates in yesterday’s American mid-term
elections, many of whom lost. This was being seen as a serious blow for his
plans to run for President again in a couple of years. It was being alleged
that there are other candidates being mooted by the Republican party, and that
Donald Trump is threatening to expose all sorts of scandal and gossip about
them. And then I found myself wondering…
To
me Donald Trump is on a par with the more feeble-minded eight-year-old cub
scouts that I used to look after. He blusters and postures like a child and makes
the most ridiculous comments and statements. But all that I know about him is
what I hear on the radio and read on-line. It has to be said that the chap is a
multi-millionaire and that he has been President of the USA. He can’t *really*
be as stupid as he comes over, can he? Just possibly there really is a
clandestine conspiracy against him? What other explanation can there be… Or is
he just a rich twit?
We
got to the woods as the rain was stopping. The car park was all but empty. We
walked our usual circuit. Despite the recent rains the path was good going. I’d
worn walking boots but it would have been fine in trainers. However the dogs
insisted on running in and out of the woods and got filthy. Ironically there
were loads of squirrels today, and the hounds didn’t see a single one.
At
about the half-way point I reached for my camera. Something was creeping out of
the undergrowth onto the footpath. Long and black and low-down… just like a
weasel but about twenty times bigger. Just as I was about to photograph it I
realised it was Morgan. Woops.
We
didn’t see anyone until we were three-quarters of the way round when we smelled
someone rather than saw them. There was some chap in posh trousers, best shoes,
shirt, tie and jacket walking along in the middle of the woods smacked out of
his skull on wacky baccy. What was that all about?
Shortly
after this we met a Golden Retriever. The pups said hello to her. She said
hello back (as dogs do) but was far more interested in scoffing the
chestnuts on the floor. As I walked past I could hear a dog whistle being
frantically whistled. A hundred yards up the path and round the corner was a
gaggle of old biddies, one of whom was whistling away like a thing possessed.
Another asked me if I’d seen a Golden Retriever. I wish I’d said no. The dog
wasn’t allowed to eat chestnuts, and somehow it was all my fault that it was
doing just that. My protestations that my dogs were the three that were with me
and behaving, and that their dog was the one that had gone rogue fell on deaf
ears. And they seriously weren’t happy when we walked on past and kept going.
Does
anyone else have an idiot magnet quite as powerful as mine?
We
came home and the pups had a hot shower. For all that they had a good time,
Bailey was shivering. I wonder if she needs a coat? Mind you, Fudge needed a
coat but would never wear one.
As
the dogs had a post-bath shake-off in the garden I saw that the frankly
far-too-big sycamore tree down the road has (yet again) buried the
garden in its fallen leaves. Raking them out of the gravel takes some doing. I've
got various rakes to do it but getting behind the stone planters hurts my back
(I'm an old man!)
I
had a (frankly genius) idea about getting a leaf-blower to gather them
all up?
So
I took a little detour on my way to work. I stopped off in Lenham as Andrea had
said I could borrow her leaf-blower. I thought I might have a go with someone
else's before I waste my money on something which is either too feeble to blow
anything, or which blasts leaves gravel, soil and bedrock down to a depth of ten
feet.
The
thing looks like being a good toy; I shall let the garden dry out before having
a blow. Or a suck; apparently it sucks too. Result (!)
I
then went on to work, and as is usually the case on a late shift, everything of
note today was over and done with before noon.
No comments:
Post a Comment