Times Are Hard

They say times are hard, if you don’t believe it

You can just follow your nose

It don’t bother me – times are hard everywhere

We’ll just have to see how it goes

I’ve almost had enough. It’s almost too much to bear. His Nibs was going away this week and I was off on holiday to my lovely friends Sarah & John to meet their new dog Cooper. (Obviously I would be superior to him with my springer spaniel intellect) But it was going to give me a break from him going on about Covid, Boris and United. Maybe even Trump.

But no. Because Boris is being a seriously miserable twat for us all, His Nibs decided to postpone his trip until Spring. So I have been lumbered with staying with him. I hoped the lovely Sarah might tell him that she’s taking me anyway, but it didn’t happen. I don’t mind really, of course.

The Boss has been going on about Covid all day, ever since Boris reckoned it was all going wrong. 

Perhaps its age! Ageing is a bit of touchy subject for everybody, I reckon. It certainly is for His Nibs. I can hear him moaning as he climbs the stairs – his back is hurting, which makes his knees hurt because the pain goes down to them. I’ve suggested that losing a few pounds might help, but he snaps at me and immediately makes another cup of coffee.

I’m a bit sensitive about ageing as well, I must admit. You all know about my eye trouble, and one of its effects is I have some trouble judging height and distance. This is made worse because my back legs have lost a lot of their strength – I gather it’s a spaniel thing, don’t know about the other breeds – which results in me sometimes missing the occasional stair. I’m not a fan of ageing, so I asked The Boss to please stop it happening but it appears it is just about the only thing he definitely can’t do!

Even worse, I’ve developed some sort of skin thing which my lovely lady friend Kim, who keeps me clipped and looking handsome, picked up this week. Anyway, Himself took me to the vets (I hate the vets!!) and they took bits of skin for a biopsy, a blood test and told The Boss to collect some of my wee. So that they could test that as well.

I did have a bit if a laugh with this because he cleverly put the jug under me and caught everything. But I knew what he was up to, so when I moved I carefully kicked the jug over!!! He was not amused but I was more co-operative in the morning and its all gone off for testing. 

I gather initial results show I’ve some sort of thyroid problem going on but I’ll report back in full next time I write.

I learnt some new expletives last weekend when His Nibs and Mr Bridges were watching the football. Mr B was not impressed with his West Bromwich team and I escaped upstairs a couple of times from his shouting. It became even worse when United played Spurs. I have to tell you that I didn’t understand when His Nibs stopped swearing and began laughing because it was so awful but I learnt a lot of new words.

I’m not going to get involved with either Covid or Trump at the moment. It’s just all too much for me. I have my views down here on the pavement, but it seems not everybody shares my obviously common sense views.

We had some lovely friends visit us for some dinner last week, and they were very kind to Himself about his painting. Now I’m not passing ANY comment on his painting. He loves it and is frighteningly prolific. He never stops. Every day he sits down and paints. 

Now I don’t understand some of them (they do seem to me to be very abstract indeed) but I quietly confess I really do like some of them. His friends  Chris & Jacky – who actually do understand painting -were very kind to him (I thought he was going to faint at one point)  and so it appears the next step is going to be to try and exhibit a few so that the public (ie total strangers) can take a look and see what they think. I can’t be on hand the whole time so I hope they are not too rude about some of them!!!!

We’ve had a little trip to friends in Cheltenham as well (not to The Bosses well-known nephew known as God) but to the glorious Suzie & Ian. Ian is a bass guitarist virtuoso (his wife says!) but much more importantly he owns a truly beautiful handmade bass guitar that is so staggering in its gorgeousness even I was impressed. So impressed, I double twisted in their living room and damaged my front leg which meant I limped about for a while in an attempt to elicit sympathy (partly succeeded)!

These are such dark times. Without his painting, I truly think Him Indoors would be in a rather fragile mental state. I suspect – I have no knowledge – that lots of people are really struggling. When we’re out walking, lots of people tell us that they really miss the Music in the Hall gigs that The Boss helps organise. The potential “death” of live music is terrifying!!!

This week is normally my worst week of the year because I would expect him to be permanently out  of the house, meaning I’m alone, leading the events at Bewdley Festival, but which obviously isn’t now taking place. 

I do hope that others are like His Nibs and found an outlet in which to release their pent-up emotions. There seems to be no end to it and winter is going to be tough. I shall be keeping my eyes open – bad as they are – to try to ensure I can help people where needed. If we all do that perhaps we can manage to get through the misery without too much damage.

God bless you all (and in case I’m too busy in next two weeks) – lets hope that bastard Trump is properly fucked off and doesn’t embarrass America by refusing to go!!!!

(I apologise for my bad language but……) xxxx

Woof! Woof