2 Old Codgers

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

Deefski