I try to keep up with the news down here on the pavement. Not always easy, but I have been disturbed by all these headlines about knife-crime. After all, it could be a bit of a problem if some person took offence at me and stuck a steak knife in me whilst I’m wandering past the geese on Severnside. South
The only teenagers I come into contact with all seem rather nice people, but then they are mostly musicians. By definition they will be nice people, so The Boss says. He calls them “creatives” and tells me I’m wasting my time trying to understand them.
He quotes at me a lovely singing friend about whom he says “ she’s a wonderful friend, gloriously talented and so creative it makes me envious but a bit on the barking mad side of life”. If I was her, I’d take that as a compliment from the grisly old bugger. He has noticed though that when she comes to visit and walks me on the lead I am perfect, but when I’m on the lead with him I pull the old boy as hard as I can because I know he can’t keep up with his dodgy knees and hip. It makes me smile. I suppose I am being a tiny bit cruel seeing as he does spoil me most of the time.
Whilst out riverside, I’ve been giving all this Brexit stuff a bit of thought. I confess I don’t really understand what is going on. I seem to remember Him Indoors telling me there was a big vote which involved everybody having their say. Apparently that was it, and “the say” resulted in telling the politicians they wanted to leave the EU. Now Him Indoors is not exactly complimentary about that organization. He tells me that in his past he had to deal directly with them for three years and they were basically a bunch of gangsters lining their own pockets at everyone’s expense except their own. Plus, they definitely didn’t the English and did everything possible to annoy us.
It appears, from what I can gather, there are a few folks against “the say” and are trying to stop the leaving. That seems a bit “off” to me, if we chaps have a vote in the park we always take the majority result. Just because you don’t like it you can’t change it! Jeez, in that case Him Indoors would try to change every music poll that doesn’t make Bob Dylan the greatest artist the world has ever seen!
Since I started this edition, time has moved on with our favourite subject of Brexit. I can tell you that I have now given up. I lay on the bed last night and gathered that the Maybot is expecting the old Trot to help her out because she has cocked it up so badly. If the nation’s future lays in that bench of champagne Trots from North London, god help us all is my immediate thought. I hope I’ll still be able get sardines when its all over?
As a consensus sort of creature, it seems a bit late to decide she needs some national unity on this subject. Within the springer world I’m pretty sure we would have sniffed each other early on, then decided it was best to work everything out as a springer group and not as individual spaniels each with our own axe to grind. Simples.
On that note, I bid you farewell. Sorry this a bit short but The Boss has been rather busy with his Festival things and so not been around to take dictation.
Woof! Woof!
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