Anybody else confused about this furlough idea? I consider I’m a pretty well educated dog but I had never heard of the word until five months ago, it seems to me. I know I touched on this subject the last time I wrote, but we’ve been into town recently for lunch and it was like a Bank Holiday Sunday. Why aren’t all these people at work? Or at the very least, why aren’t they at home saving their money for the tsunami of unemployment that is coming down the tracks towards them.
We’ve been out now four times to pubs for lunch. It’s all very civilised. The biggest problem is the staff all have to wear masks so you can never tell when they are actually being nice to us! Where’s the smile?
His Nibs still hasn’t learnt that at his age you can’t be drinking white wine all afternoon and come out of it unscathed. We’re sat in the garden for hours, and he’s quaffing the elixir down non-stop along with the dreaded Mr B (he’s a bad influence, I tell you) and friends Zena and Craig, then the next morning it’s me that suffers. All tetchy is His Lordship, no patience, simply not happy and I’m very lucky to get any breakfast. I really thought that by now he would have understood he can’t take it any more! That his recovery is so slow it takes all the next day to learn to put one foot in front of another yet again!
Its all been too hot for me, and I had a very difficult time the other week when we were going down to Taunton. There was a crash on the motorway up front and we had to sit there for an hour. I thought I was going to die – literally. It’s the first time I’ve seen The Boss in such a state, panicking about me as I was panting in the back. He tried keeping the air-con going but it was still sweltering. When we arrived at our rather nice hotel (we’ve been here before, its jolly good) our room (actually it was a suite, posh old boy) didn’t have air-con. Oh dear, did I suffer after the shock of the car because I couldn’t seem to recover. I reckon I drank 8 bowls of water! Not good.
We survived somehow, but His Nibs was so worried about me we left at 7.00 the following morning in the cool, cancelled our planned lunch with relatives (disappointing because I knew we would be in for treats) and we came home for me to recover. He must love me really, despite his lack of patience at times.
Speaking of lack of patience, His Lordship was really getting upset about the latest political cock-up – A Level exam results. Now these were pretty close to home because his lovely grand-daughter Harriet was in danger of being affected. In the end she wasn’t, and her finally confirmed 4 A grades meant she could start planning for her new life at York University reading Politics.
His Nibs was very much excited about it all, but in the wrong way. He has long felt the state education system was not good, that it is set up to penalise children at every stage and appears to do everything to discourage children to have ambition or aspiration. One of his pet subjects is the way it downplays the importance of so-called “manual” careers – plumbers, carpenters, electricians etc – and overplays the importance of academic qualifications. He believes every person has a talent and education should be about finding that talent. Once discovered, the focus should be to maximise the talent and putting the rest of the curriculum around that objective.
He told me yesterday that he is beginning to despair about this country. He has always been ambivalent about our membership of the EU, which he considers to be the most corrupt organisation with which he has ever had the displeasure of working. But he loves Europe, and told me (rather unkindly, I felt) that when I go to doggie heaven he would like to live in France for a few months every year.
Mr Bridges has been around a few times because we’ve all been watching the European football matches. He’s ok when I manage to get a few morsels from the table off him but when they shout at the telly it gets a bit too much for me. I look mournfully at them both, they ignore me and then I go upstairs to escape. It seems I’m not the centre of attention, so it is important I let them know I’m not a happy bunny.
It was all very sad when United lost of course but His Nibs cheered us all up after the game by forcing us to watch a Cyndi Lauper concert on tv. She had me dancing around the room, even with my dodgy back legs.
In reality, life has been much quieter since Him Indoors took up painting. I am able to get lots of sleep whilst he madly splashes paint around his canvases with gay abandon. I cannot write in all honesty that I understand his picture’s but they are full of colour. His friends who view them all seem to like but I do wonder whether they are just being polite. On the bright side, it is keeping him happy and content so I do hope he continues. He is a much nicer chap when he’s working, and I do get lots of doggie treats when he’s playing the artist.
I’ll keep you posted on his work, maybe I’ll post a couple of them on my page. Stay safe good friends.
Woof! Woof!
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