Sometimes my diary is crammed with goodies. Sometimes my diary is empty. Recently it has been goodies. We’ve been out so much I’m beginning to believe that the old boy has decided that life is just a party, and he’s trying to teach me how to party at the same time. As if I didn’t know how!!! We have been out so much – and the cheeky blighter hasn’t always taken me – that I am in need of a quiet week for rest and recuperation.
In truth, it all started with the birthday bash but it has accelerated over recent weeks.
Every single day for the last TWO weeks we have been wining and dining at varying times of the day. Pub here, restaurant there, car journeys to trendy hostelries, walking to a local pub, running (obviously late) to a local pub, slow walking (obviously early) to a local pub, coffee shops, canalside pubs, eating outside, eating inside, it has been non-stop. Thank god he didn’t take me with him the other night when his cooking mentor and favourite chef cooked on a bar-b-q. It’s obvious to all I wouldn’t have wanted any whole sea bass or steak eaten al fresco with some of my favourite friends! I can barely comprehend the thought of missing all that wonderful food when a sophisticated chap like me is available to mark the chef’s card.
At this point you will notice that I haven’t mentioned alcohol. He regularly tells me “don’t mention the wine”. So I don’t. Nor do I mention the Irish whiskey, although normally when he starts drinking Jamesons (or Bushmills) he is actually past the point of caring whether I tell anybody or not. If you live abroad in different time zones from UK, you are well aware it is at this point you are likely to receive his telephone calls.
I sometimes think I should speak out but I attempt to be honourable and loyal to him as he does feed me and is generally a good bloke.
What brought this to the forefront of mind? Well, late afternoon after we had been off out at one of our lunches, one of his lovely girlie mates called to see us at home (he thinks she calls to see him, I know she calls to see me); it was a sunny afternoon and lo and behold in a matter of minutes they had seen off two bottles of rather nice rose wine whilst throwing the ball around the courtyard for me. I was knackered and they were “happy”.
It was always thus…goodies come along all together at the same time. I have no idea why we can’t share them out throughout a year, sort of one per week, then I really could be running free all the time. With the result that I would happily cope and wouldn’t get worn out enjoying myself. But is probably too sensible for us party animals!
Woof! Woof! Woof!
ps – the title of today’s words is obviously far too clever a line for me. It is one of my namesake Bob’s. Maybe I can find some more in the future. Woof!
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