What a grim and miserable old day it was today. It was most unpleasant. The sleet was possibly the worst bit.
While the weather stopped us taking the dogs out, it didn’t stop me going to the gym. Then into town to shop.
Of course I’m still not back at the Science Museum because of the ongoing works in the basement (among other things). I had an email from Nick (at work) this week responding to one he’d had from another volunteer.
She was saying how she felt a bit guilty going to the Volunteer’s Awards Night given she hadn’t been in for quite a bit of the passed year. This is something I’ve thought as well but I know how much Nick enjoys seeing us all. He gets an awful lot of pleasure knowing we’re happy so how could I deny him that? Anyway, it’s always good fun.
Nick explained to her that its the museum’s way of saying thank you, yadda, yadda, yadda and she should come. So I guess she’ll be there on February 27.
Meanwhile, I continue to have Friday’s off. I often take the opportunity to go to an exhibition of a Friday but this week the combination of Sue not being available, having just returned from Barcelona and the crappy weather, put me off so I stayed home and cleaned the fridge.
I should stress that that’s not ALL I did. Mind you, it takes a bit longer than the tiny one we used to have…in the tiny kitchen we also used to have.
By five thirty I was reclining in the extension, listening to PM…which brings me to the title of this post.
I don’t think I’ve written before about Emma and Big Ben.
PM on Radio 4 ends at 6pm when the main news of the day starts. Before it begins, Big Ben rings out, followed by the six big bongs. 6pm is coincidentally when the dogs are fed. I’m often sat listening to PM with both of them curled up on me.
All three of us listen to Eddie and his mellifluous voice…actually that’s not true. I listen while the puppies are fast asleep. Then Eddie signs off and, usually after a slight pause, Big Ben starts. And it’s like the dogs have been hit by a burst of electricity. They are instantly off my lap and standing staring at me expectantly, tails flailing the air like agricultural scythes.
In the past I’ve thought it was just a fluke and maybe I’d moved imperceptibly but, no, I’ve tested it and it’s true. Emma knows what Big Ben means. Not Freya, you understand. Freya just follows Emma’s lead. Emma however knows instantly that dinner is close.
Which is surprising really because Freya is the food obsessed one.