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In the dog basket

January 1, 2013

I have photographic evidence at last. It was not me in the dogs basket, as my picture today shows,  but that Nice Lady Decorator whilst preparing breakfast on New Years Eve. Oh no, it was much later on before it was my turn.

It came about like this; I stupidly asked why, after clipping the dogs, she decided that they needed doggie coats. We were at a pets emporium buying more food for them, when she suddenly announced that they needed winter coats. Earlier in the week she had employed the electric dog clippers to give then both a haircut.  I had questioned the wisdom of shaving off all their hair in the winter months and then having to spend money on coats to keep them warm. My question was contemptuously dismissed with the some sweeping statement about my not understanding dogs, which is true in part, as I will never understand the allure of her hound, the utterly unloveable Banjo. He had greeted our return from a shopping trip by dashing from the lounge, from which he is banned, where he had taken the opportunity to spread wet paw marks all over the light coloured lounge carpets. I am writing this from the safe haven of my kennel office where, despite being at the end  of the yard, I can still hear the furious scrubbing and hoovering that is going on before our guests were due to arrive yesterday afternoon. I will personally supervise the required one way visit to the vets at the drop of a hat. My hat is in my hand and about to drop to the floor…

decorator in dog basket

Decorator goes to the dogs

The Savins duly arrived and demanded strong drink, as their reputation bears witness, and who am I as a host if I did not join them? I would not have felt comfortable with a soft drink in those circumstances, so the celebrations began a little earlier than expected.

The inevitable rain continued until the point where we were due to leave for a sharpener next door to the White Hart. I was hoping to see a new Currencies Direct customer but no luck, so we set off for The Bay Tree for a New Years Eve dinner. The meal and service were exemplary. My venison steak  medallions were a triumph and the chap’s warm pigeon salad starters were also fantastic. Sadly, my king prawns in coconut, which sounded fab, were very disappointing,  no different to battered prawns, but the venison overcame my doubts. It was a very good meal,

Once the New Year had been seen in, we dropped onto the Red Lion on the way home and very quickly dropped out again. The atmosphere which was so good when I visited late one evening over the Christmas period with Sprog 1 had been replaced by a hideous post drunken slum, so we quickly departed for home, where that Nice Lady Decorator insisted on playing music far too loud for far too long, before I retired to bed with the house still shuddering to the Spencer Davis Group. Keep on running indeed.

As I complete this first daily report of the new year, I caught a glance outside and something strange is happening. The sky has turned a very odd colour which I dimly remember as blue, and there is no precipitation, By that, I mean that it is not raining, yet. A new years walk is planned, down at the beach, followed in very civilised manner by lunch at The Black Rabbit, nestling on the River Arun.  If it turns out to be in the sunshine, then I may life to regret my impulsive purchase yesterday, in the miserable rain, of a holiday next week to Tenerife…

Chris France

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