My beloved husband has taken to calling me Mr Pickwick.
While extremely entertaining I am slightly concerned as this is Mr Pickwick…
The time has come to throw away my breeches and get ready for summer…
And apparently it’s time to lose some weight!
Mr Pot Kettle Black
This morning Agnes was abducted by a dog walker called Colin.
I had arranged for them to go on a trial walk which I thought meant they would go for a trot around the block. As Letad is relocating temporarily to France, I need some help taking the dog out.
Colin arrived and within minutes had whisked Agnes away in his van of dogs. We were shell shocked. One minute we were having breakfast, the next minute the small dog had vanished and we had no idea if we would ever see her again!
Throughout the morning photos of Agnes pinged into my phone from unknown locations. She looked sad to us and I thought the next step would be the tip of her tail ransomed through the post.
Apparently we shouldn’t have worried as the little dog was returned at lunchtime, tail intact and happy to be home. It had been a three hour trial walk!
It appeared to have gone well despite the fact that Agnes can’t talk so we’ll never know the truth!
More to come I suspect about Colin the Dog Walker!
I got up in the night to go to the toilet and stepped in dog poo. It was cold and horrible and I managed to step in it with both feet. I cleaned the floor, put the bathmat in the washing machine and went back to bed.
Two hours later it happened again…
It is possibly one of the worst things to feel squelching through one’s toes.
The little dog had a stomach upset.
We were all a bit under the weather this morning…
The little dog is going on a trial walk on Thursday with a dog walker called Colin.
Who’s trialing whom I’m not entirely sure.
As Letad appears to be relocating to France (indefintely, or at least until we sell the house) I need help. I can’t leave a little dog locked in the house for ten hours a day so I’m hopeful Colin the dog walker will be the answer to our problem.
Hopefully Letad isn’t relocating permanently!
We set off on Sunday to a garden centre to collect two very large jasmine plants Letad had bought to go outside the front and back doors. He had wanted big ones…
We were driving a convertible French mini, left hand drive. The idea was that we would simply put the top down and pop the jasmines in their pots on the back seat, then with wind ruffling their leaves, they would be driven home in style to their future home.
That was before we saw them…
They were absolutely massive. Letad had managed to find fourteen feet tall jasmine which, quite frankly, would have been so heavy the car would have flipped over.
Needless to say we caused a great deal of laughter (at, not with) and said plants will be delivered on Saturday.
On the plus side, we looked so stupid, they gave us a discount on the delivery charge!
Saturday and work began outside. The masonry is being repaired and so we joined in and removed rusty paint from the metal fence and I cleaned the hall tiles with brick acid before finally sealing.
With jobs done, we decided to take the little dog to Hampstead Heath for the first time.
We’re very lucky as we have Queens Park and a large open dog-friendly green space called The Field nearby but neither is as big as the Heath and so off we went on the Overground to Hampstead Heath.
It was only four stops and we were soon at the Heath Extension. It hadn’t been the nicest of days weather wise but we were lucky as we tromped through the muddy ground and Agnes dashed around like a delirious mad thing.
Before long the skies clouded over and after an altercation with a self righteous dog owner about how her old dog couldn’t play with a puppy (why are you at the Heath then?) we headed to The Bull and Last in Parliament Hill for an afternoon pint, a very muddy tired dog lying under the table.
By the time we got home, Agnes was exhausted and put herself to bed for the next twelve hours only moving briefly to howl at a late neighbour arriving home.
And then peace and quiet. Let sleeping dogs lie.
There’s nothing like cycling home in the pouring rain especially when it’s meant to be spring. It was a very wet Friday evening and after twenty minutes on my trusty steed I was soaked through and cold.
Luckily I was on my way home rather than heading into work so warm clothes and a Friday night gin and tonic awaited.
A weekend at home for the first time in weeks.