The Crashing Waves

The crashing waves roll over me

As I stand upon the sand

Wait for you to come

And grab hold of my hand

When I started writing this latest little missive, It was all go for the Boss because it was Festival week. He managed to by-pass the Labour Party Conference – he thought Starmers speech was very good but that he is a terribly boring speaker, no pzzazz – followed a bout of hysterical laughter over Bumbling Boris’s speech at the Tory Conference. It’s a long time since I looked down from the Rainbow Bridge and seen him laugh so much. It was only when he realised that it was supposed to be a serious speech about the future of this country that he stopped laughing and began crying.

Apparently he was crying for his grand-children who are going to be part of the generation attempting to repair the damage being created by Bumbling and his fellow bunch of greedy, selfish, grinches.

This was all being forgotten though as his beloved Festival began and the early events were all received rapturously. Let me tell you folks, Police Dog Hogan had TreeTops Pavilion dancing in the aisles and laughing in their seats with a terrific performance. The next day, loads of children were happy making models of Wallace, Gromit, and Shaun the Sheep. Him Indoors reckoned the adults enjoyed model-making more than the children did!

Dom Joly made everybody think (and laugh) but then along came Lemn Sissay – playwright and poet – and passionate black equality performer to elevate the Festival to a different planet. The Old Boy was more than happy I can tell you.

But then Covid hit! From being happy and content with the Festival, The Boss was suddenly a very poorly chap. A bit of a cold it seemed, a bit of feeling “not quite right” changed into something much nastier. The Old Boy stopped eating, simply drinking pints of water to keep himself hydrated, and descended down into a real dark place. Calls to 111 were made on a couple of occasions, ambulance ordered but never arrived and Him Indoors really never had any idea what to do. He had to be in isolation as well so he couldn’t have any visitors although some lovely friends brought soup and food for him. He lost loads of weight (now that’s the good news!) although I don’t think it’s the obvious choice of the way to lose it!

It took The Boss over two weeks of misery before he began recovering. He was actually pretty scared, with the worst part having to deal with it all on his own. He so missed his Chris, being caring but pragmatic, and he missed me, his faithful dog, being there for him to stroke my head and be somebody with whom he could talk. He was fit enough before testing positive for Covid to enjoy an evening at Festival with Cerys Matthews & Liz Berry, which was a truly great night. Sadly he was too poorly to attend both the Fairport Convention and Saving Grace shows which by all accounts were both highly successful evenings.

He’s been told by the doctor to take things very easy because it can take anything from four to eight weeks to properly recover. That’s a drag for him though because he has lots of things to do for both Festival and Music in the Hall. He is being a good boy though and following the doctor’s instructions. Mind you, I’ve never ever seen him sleep so much. I could sleep when I was down there, lay on the settee, but the poor old Boss as soon as he’s finished doing something (like going for a pint with Mr Bridges)  he has to come home, lie down and have a sleep!

He’s been able to get busy painting Christmas cards in recent week’s which has rather cheered him up. There are lots to do!!! He’s also taken delivery of some rather large canvases to keep him busy through the winter. He was told that his style may suit larger canvases so I shall look down with interest to see what he gets up to. HE’s finally finished the largest painting he’s ever done and the first couple of friends who have viewed it seemed to think it was pretty good.

Along the way this last couple or three weeks,  he’s been rather excited by the start of the new Bob Dylan tour in America. His pal Tim is over there for a number of the shows, lucky fellow. The Boss has been listening to them via YouTube and raving about them. No doubt if The Maestro comes over to the UK he will be going.

He’s still trying to find a replacement for me. He’s applied for several via rescue sites but all unsuccessfully. He is rather limiting himself though by trying to get another Springer chap. After all, I was pretty unique so if he thinks he can really find “the new Dylan” he’s in cuckoo land. He’s told some folks that if he doesn’t come across another springer by spring he may well then take a look at all the other dogs in the rescue homes.

That just about brings you up to date. Not much happening really (although I gather he will report on things Manchester United next time – too sad at the moment) but in amongst all the sleeping I hope he will able to put a couple of words together.

Stay safe, god bless

Woof! Woof!