Happy New Year, my good friends. I trust that you had a really nice Festive season. If you’re anything like me, the treats could go on for ever but it appears The Boss has run out of free range chicken, ribs of beef, sausages, special biscuits, ham, bacon, sardines, sea bass etc etc. Obviously he didn’t buy enough to satisfy a special chap like me. So much for being smothered in love!
He did smother me with visitors on New Year when Lottie and Libby arrived…and stayed as well! Libby did attempt once to stop me getting to my place on my settee but I soon sorted that out.
It was all a very quiet festive time for the two of us, my highlight was breakfast over at my friend Rachel’s because there was plenty of fuss plus scrambled egg and smoked salmon that I kept being surreptiously given by various lovely people. I had several interesting walks, which were great because there was nobody about to interfere with me chasing my ball. I expect everybody was still walloping down roast turkey and Christmas pudding every day. My chicken was decidedly good, and I’m pleased to report it lasted for several days which kept me happy.
Him Indoors didn’t seem to approve too much of the football. I encountered several incidents with him using very bad language and this chap Mourinho is definitely not top of his popularity list. I thought he was doing ok this season, but apparently he remains a horrid anti-football git who picks fights with other managers for no apparent reason other than deflecting thoughts from his own team’s lousy performances.
The good thing is there has been little comment about Brexit. Now Him Indoors is an open-minded chap (so he tells me) but a bloke called Marnier is winding him up big-time. I don’t know who he is, or where he comes from, but goodness me he is apparently out of touch with the real world. So I am told. Every day. Regularly.
My old friend Trump has re-appeared on the scene. Some book has confirmed that he is barking mad but, according to some, is having success with his global policy of telling every other country on the planet to “f*** off”, we’re not giving you any more money! Now I do confess, down on my pavement, I have a sympathy with that view. After all, if The Boss gave loads of money to other dogs and that meant I missed out on my treats I would not be very happy. I suppose Yankees in mid-America feel pretty much the same. What do you reckon?
As the world begins to return to normality, the Boss has visibly cheered up. He appears to be chained to his computer at the moment which probably means he is attempting to get his Music gigs organized as well as doing some work for his beloved Festival.
To be fair, he’s taken me to one of my favourite pubs twice this week for lunch. I must tell you his mate Steve may appear to be as mad as a box of frogs, but he’s really a lovely bloke who I adore. He makes a proper fuss of me, although he was pushing a bit close to the roaring open fire for my comfort! Then later in the week we went with my lovely friend Karen, who often looks after me when Him Indoors chooses to go off somewhere. They appeared to be exchanging secrets, despite all the roaring laughter. I’m not to sure what they were up to but no good comes to mind. Probably discussing the weather!
I’ve avoided the whole political situation today because I am very confused with it all. I’ll explain more next time.
Woof! Woof!
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