Sunday, 31 October 2010


Sometimes I sits and thinks.....

...and sometimes I just sits.

Saturday, 30 October 2010

Note to self

Teach Millie how to turn bathroom taps on and off.

Then she can wash her muddy paws properly.

Friday, 29 October 2010

Oh, OK then....

I know, I exaggerated a little......

But I did want it to be the same length as in the photo on the right.

Flossie (on my computer chair) thinks she has beautiful Cardinal Wolseyesque ears.

Thursday, 28 October 2010

Creative licence

To the hairdresser today.

"Not too short." I said. "I don't want to look like Richard III."

Previous experience prompted me to say this.

"No, no." she clucked reassuringly. She lied.

Snip, snap.

Cardinal Wolsey. I have the chins. Now all I need is the hat.

Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Down time

Tuesday, 26 October 2010


It was a beautiful morning yesterday.

The first proper frost of the season.

The water was chilly.

We were not deterred.

At all.

Monday, 25 October 2010

Hip, Hip, Hurr-Ow?


A pair of wellies (and accessory dog).

A lovely bridge.

A curved metal kerb (wet at the time).

A careless step.

And sudden collapse of stout party onto left hip. 

Assume some loss of dignity, although flounced drawers were not revealed to passers-by.

But a colourful souvenir remains.

Sensible walking shoes next time!

Or a sensible walking skirt.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

Rules of swimming

There are several of these pool-related offences that Flossie doesn't commit. She certainly wouldn't smoke, although she might dutifully try to eat a cigarette if you were to offer her one.

But No Running? No Bombing?

Give a girl a break.

Flossie's swimming technique favours Horizontal Bombing.

Red-collared friend George is more sedate; he likes to swim in circles, almost without a ripple.

He favours the Hippopotamus Stroke.

It's hard to avoid Swimming in the Diving Area with Flossie around.

She's having too much fun to try Petting. George is disappointed.

But then there's the Running.

The Pool Attendant doesn't approve.

But is largely ignored. Dry dogs have no authority.

Time for a post-swim "shivery-bite" - small chunks of cooked pork sausages today. Instant obedience to all rules!

Be glad you can't smell these two.

Found along the way

Oh, the wonders of a city park!

Walking through Armstrong and Heaton Parks yesterday, we passed this little well. An oddly-informative local government publication found online tells us that it is one of those Victorian fancies rather than an ancient artefact:

STATEMENT OF SIGNIFICANCE: This Victorian well head in Armstrong Park is made of stone with some iron supports. It is located in a curved wall approximately 7 metres long and an area of stone paving creates a plaza in front of the well. A faux medieval inscription reads ‘Ye Well of King John’.

Then there was this, one of a number of repurposed lumps of masonry scattered artfully along the wooded pathways:

And this: 

Where we had a cup of hot chocolate, and sat sipping in the sun. A certain someone found a muddy pool behind us, and spent our little break plunging joyfully in and out of it, pausing only to scavenge windfall pears, and returning to wipe her muddy face against my knees. 

And then on we went. Lizzie tells me that so far she hasn't found a little Dutch coffee cart on Exmoor. Pity.... 

Tuesday, 19 October 2010

Little sister writes

Tosca here, checking in. Some of you have been worrying about me.

Well, don't. There's no need.

I might not have been too happy at first to get a big sister with enormous feet and a giant tongue, but it's really good fun now.

We have great walks, and I respond when she is called, so that I get to share the treats. I'm getting fitter, and I never need to be carried like Rachel thought I would.

I like to hang out with my sister. We love sunbathing.

Margery and the Lovely Son noticed right away that I was more confident with a big sister around. She wouldn't let big dogs bully me, but she knows that I am really the duchess in this house. She has respect for my age and position.

Rachel says a more doggy household suits me, and that I'm not just a form of oddly-disappointing cat any more. She can be rude, that Rachel. I may sleep in the cat beds, but that doesn't make me a cat.

Mind you, I've noticed that she's not coping very well with the extra mud and hair. Look: disgraceful!

 And this is what causes it all!

She says I am the best dog for not shedding hair or leaving large dirty pawprints everywhere. My big sister loves mud, and water, and sticks. She's not very dainty at all, unlike me.

I also have a new bed. I share it with my sister, even though she snores, because it's big enough for two.

Or maybe three....

So don't worry; I'm in charge, and everything is going well.
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