Life moves on. I seem to remember writing that Him Indoors was leaving me a lot as he rushed around trying to get his sponsors organized for this year’s Festival. That phase of life seems to have come to an end because in recent weeks we have been all over the place, I don’t think I’ve ever visited so many pubs and coffee shops (mainly pubs!). It’s all to do with the Festival, but now I’m being invited. Perhaps reality was awoken, that I am crucial to achieving success.
He had on Glastonbury over the other weekend. Not too much of it, I’m sure he’d confess. Why the fuss at Glastonbury about Stormzy topping the bill? Him Indoors said to me this makes the country appear that at its heart it is racist in some way, why should it be headline news that Ed Sheerhan, Jeremy Corbyn and some other nonentity praised the fact he was the first black solo singer to top the bill. Surely he was just a bloke, a singer, a very good singer I should add apart from his inevitably boring political posturing on occasion that it appears singers at Glasto think they have to do – more later – who topped the bill. The Boss and I don’t care whether he was black, or brown, or white, or yellow, or green, blue or red frankly. We only care if he’s any good.
And coming back to the political left wing bollocks spouted from the stage every year, don’t the artists understand the only folks who can afford to be at Glasto seem to be white (with the occasional Asian face visible in the crowd) upper middle class people with really good jobs because it is so expensive and hard to get tickets. Him Indoors told me someone commented on Twitter (it was a footy fan used to scamming his way into big United games) – “anybody tried to get into Glasto free? With all that security!! No chance”.
Meanwhile The Boss is as grumpy as only he can be because we’re having a few days of serious heat. I confess I hate it as well but I am nowhere as miserable as he is. He is kind because he tries to keeps me cool by putting cold wet towels on me. It sort of works but it’s a proper pain in the arse when I climb on the settee.
Talking of climbing, it is proving less easy these days as I get older. Here I have empathy with Him Indoors because his over-weight issue (mine is a much smaller over-weight issue, of course) means his knees are giving him trouble. In my case it’s my back legs. He has started adding Seraquin and Tumeric tablets to my food (he thinks I don’t know what he’s doing, but I’ve clocked him breaking them up) because they are supposed to help. I do love him.
He must be struggling because he’s recently started trying to diet (only a partial success I can report from my close observation of his plate) and starting to cycle every day in the bedroom. Not round in ever decreasing circle you fools, but on his exercise bike. I wish him luck although it is boring for me laying there for what seems an interminable time whilst he struggles along trying to raise a sweat. Let me tell you, it is not a pretty sight.
I gather that he’s been on the radio again, this time promoting this American thingy he’s doing with the Festival. It’s all very well him doing so much, but what about me? It is very boring being on my own. He leaves the music on for me, but that’s really no substitute for being able to wind him up with requests to play ball and that sort of thing. Some of his musical taste leaves me a bit cold as well, but I much prefer Wrecking Ball Radio to all the other stations.
He came back last Friday after his usual monthly music gig. This time a lady named Eve Selis with her band. I gather from Himself that they were fantastic, playing a 90 minute set full of her own songs (beautifully written, they were as well) plus some interpretations finishing with an encore of “Hallejulah”. She covered a whole range of musical genres with a band very tight and together.
Onwards and upwards, my friends. Who knows where the next challenge will arise?
Woof! Woof!
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