After a good night’s sleep I sparked up the
lap-top and scoffed toast as I peered into the Internet as I do most mornings.
This morning’s petty squabble was about ex-Blue Peter presenter John Noakes and
his dog Shep. Was the dog the property of Mr Noakes or of the BBC? Bearing in
mind the dog died thirty-five years ago you would think people
would have better things to argue about, wouldn’t you?
I took my Seven Seas
mineral supplement and we drove up to the woods where my watch assures me we
walked for four miles. Or Treacle and I walked for four miles; with their
zooming to and fro Morgan and Bailey must have covered five miles, if not six.
Sadly my idiot magnet
was at full power. As we walked down one slope to walk up another we met a
young lady and her dog wading through the mud in the valley. She looked at my
boots and gaiters, looked at her pink-princess trainers, and then looked
at the mud in the valley in front of her as though she was going to cry. I told
her that there was a lot less mud on the higher ground; this came as a major
revelation to her. Don’t people realise that water runs downhill?
And we met the old
couple with the beagles on the leads. We’ve seen them before. The old woman
with one of the beagles isn’t strong enough to control the dog and gets dragged
all over the place by it, so we always give them a wide berth. Seeing them
coming we turned off along another path, but Morgan wandered up to say hello. I
whistled at him and he stopped. The old bloke clearly didn’t realise that
Morgan had stopped and started ranting loudly at his wife (deliberately loud
enough for me to hear) that whistling doesn’t control dogs, and all dogs
should be on leads at all times as that is the only way to control them. I
whistled again and Morgan ran to me, and we went off on our way. As we walked I
could hear the wife saying something to which the old bloke told her not to
start.
We came home to wash
the mud off, and after a cuppa I went outside. I got the front fence, shed and
the fence panel behind the shed painted. It only took hour hours to do. I’ve
got the leccie box by the pond, a few planters and a couple of dozen fence
panels still to paint. In the past I’ve averaged an hour and a quarter to do
one fence panel, so I’ve still got a lot to do. And once all the painting is
done I need to look at the shed roof and I want to build a couple more planters.
And put rockery plants round the bog filter. And get the pond filter’s bulb
changed.
I also noticed that the
instructions on the paint have changed. The last time I painted fences the
stuff reckoned it was good for up to five years; now it says it is good for up
to two years. So I need to be doing those fences every year. Not once every
four years – the last time I painted them was August 2020.
“er indoors TM” boiled up a very good
bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching the last episode of Johnny Vegas
in “Carry on Glamping”. We quite fancied the idea of a weekend away
in one of his buses or helicopters or boats. On the one hand the place is dog
friendly and isn’t ridiculously expensive. However on the other hand it is
nearly a four hour drive away. Probably just as well the place is pretty much
already fully booked for this year.
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