Saturday, 29 January 2011
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Actually it’s a dog eat dog world out there and a boy has to learn fast how to survive and how to write a good email. Blimey – the chap is only 10 weeks old and he’s nearly as good as me.
“HELP!!!!!” (He writes) Baby R has me tied up in the top tower of her play house and when not there I am being guarded by Thomas the black and white cat and Jasper the white cat, who I am beginning to think is either really rude or just plain deaf. No matter how much I bark at him he just blinks at me, unless I get to close then I get a scratch to the nose, they keep saying something about white cats with blue eyes but I'm not buying that I think he is just rude, SEND HELP NOW, PLEASE”
Don’t kid a kidder, Maxwell. You wouldn’t come away with us even if we did come out and try to rescue you. You wouldn’t get out past Em-J, J-M and M Silverwood!
Maxwell continues, “Just a point to note as well, the basket is actually MINE, the cats (Thomas and Jasper) seemed to take to MY new dog blanket, but I did put up a fight when they tried to take it over completely.
Attaboy, Max! C*ts – we’ll show you what to do with them, when we’re over!
Monday, 17 January 2011
Sunday, 16 January 2011
Saturday, 15 January 2011
With Mum up in Derbyshire at the Cousin's weddin' and Dad's younger bro' in 'Project Manager' made organising Pud Lady and T-for-Tom into undertakers and funeral arrangements for the Stamp Man, Dad feels he has a clear day.
We get a lovely walk first thing and then Dad takes off to the SB Cambria where a gang of volunteers are gathering every Saturday and Sunday at the moment, racing to get enough coats of paint onto her before the Spring Tides on which the Project Team hope to re-float the old girl. Today it's Dad's turn down under, in the 3-4 foot space under the barge's bottom slapping on yet another coat of silver-grey undercoat.
A word to the wise, he says. When painting almost lying on your back, don't ever get tempted to splash a big aul' gob of paint into your right eye. It will sting like mad and have you scurrying around, half blinded trying to get up out of the lighter and off to a source of clean water to rinse it out. Ouch. I heard a rumour that safety goggles had been invented to prevent just such a problem, but what do I know? I'm only a dog.
Dad splits at 2 returning to sort us out and to grab soup and bread. Then we're off to meet Llew at the caravan down by the Shipwrights' Arms. This is a great place, with lots of nooks, crannies, old boats and outbuildings to check out. Dad and Llew share a coffee, then Dad invites Llew (and Rosie the Jack Russell) back here for risotto. The guys light a fire and settle down like a couple of old codgers to put the world to rights. We dogs are sprawled out everywhere, enjoying the heat of the fire.
Have a good weekend and, Mum, hope the wedding's going off OK
Friday, 14 January 2011
Bye Bye Stamp Man; we will miss you. It will be odd you not being there when we visit Pud Lady in Hastings.
Meanwhile, we are all deserted this weekend by Mum who is off up to darkest Derbyshire to a (distant) family wedding. Dad has amazingly got away with swerving this on the grounds of too many girly cousins, and the need to babysit us. Nice one Dad.
Have a Good Weekend