I’m sorry it’s been a while since I put pen to paper, or paw to keyboard. It really wasn’t my fault, I assure you. It’s all Him Indoors. He went down with flu in the middle of March and for two weeks he was like a zombie. He was less than useful to me, actually no use to anybody at all including himself. Worst thing of all was that he didn’t eat, which meant I had to live on a diet of just my own food. Where’s the rib-eye steak gone I asked? Or the free range chicken? Or even some decent fish skin? Not a glimpse of such things.
I was in danger of becoming a creature with no movement, like he was. Let’s be honest, a healthy sleek specimen like me shouldn’t wasting his handsomeness sleeping on the bed all day, occasionally offering a healthy lick to the ears of a poorly Him Indoors.
Thank goodness my pal Sarah, and her lovely furry friend Lily the Labrador, turned up trumps. They arrived every afternoon when he was ill to collect me and walked me. I love going with them because I get really dirty along the river. I come back home very thirsty and looking forward to being lifted into the sink and scrubbed. This is good for keeping The Boss on his toes. I sometimes give myself a good shake when I’m in there, and inevitably he then gets soaked. This was particular fun when he was ill because he was in such a miserable state that it wound him up no end.
He eventually began returning to his normal self – inevitably – with the help of alcohol. We went “for a pint” with his pal Frosty, but foolishly invited Mr Bridges to join us. Mr Bridges is a delightful chap – he is exceedingly generous to all, but especially me – but tends to lead The Boss astray. We exceeded all straying this time, spending the entire afternoon drinking in the Brewery!!! There was a fearsome dog in there, about five times the size of me!! I kept very close to The Boss, lay on the floor behind a barrel and kept well out of his way, I tell you.
Thankfully this meant he had re-found his mojo in time for a Festival presentation. Apparently it was well received, although any event featuring Ellisha Green and the legendary Pete Williams performing would go well. He tells me that plans are very much in hand, which means I shall be in partnership with a happy soul throughout the summer.
I am now looking forward to spending a holiday with my pal Rachel. He who must obeyed is of the opinion that I am doing a bit of sulking about him going on this cruise next week. Actually, it is all an act on my part. I am so excited about going to stay with Rachel, I can’t tell you. She told me the other day that she is going to be on holiday as well, which means that I am going to be spoilt like the never before plus lots of long walks. He is welcome to his fine dining and red wine on his ship, I will be living like a king here in Bewdley.
I’ve been rather pre-occupied with The Boss to be taking too much notice of the political situation. I have noticed that the Maybot, as she is affectionately known, seems to be doing better in recent weeks. It’s been rather nice of that Russian bloke to hand her such a glorious opportunity to prove she can look a leader by his ham-fisted attempt to poison an apparently irrelevant old spy. Pity he doesn’t screw up his attempts at world domination as well.
In fairness, old Corbyn doesn’t see anything wrong in it all – I often wonder when somebody is so keen on a country why they don’t go and live there if it is that good. I have to admit though, I’m not sure if the appeal of Crimea is quite the same as Islington. Obviously not, otherwise he and his merry band of Marxists would be there.
On the football front, The Master is less than enamoured with Manchester City walking away with the league. This was not helped with his beloved United being so pathetic in the Champions League that he turned the tv off. I know he was ill, but in my time with him I’ve never known him give up before.
I’d best wind this up now, he currently has loads of new clothes stacked on the spare bed for his holiday. If he takes that lot he’ll be changing outfits three times a day. I reckon he’s bought himself far too much new gear but what do I know. I’ll keep you posted.
Woof! Woof!
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