The House Husband

I can safely say, without fear of contradiction that hornbeam blossom cannot be cleared away with a broom. It has a sort of magnet thing going on. As a broom approaches, it flies away in the opposite direction. Clearly this is an evolutionary attribute. The seed, in danger of being swept into a bin has evolved to move away until the broom gets bored and sweeps up something a little more substantial, like dust.

Fortunately man has evolved a thing called a vacuum cleaner. Hornbeam blossom doesn’t stand a chance against even the softest of suction. Of course, one has to be careful about releasing the prey back into the wild upon the opening of the vacuum cleaner for emptying purposes as this can reverse all the good work. It’s quite amusing to watch them all scatter as soon as a whiff (not even a whiff; a mini-whiff is enough) of air touches them. Two hands just aren’t enough to catch them all.

I am, however, no broom and easily bored by a flighty prey, and like the hunter that we all are, deep down in our tribal memory banks, I sucked it all up again. Given that man can reason and has a quite handy memory, I could then be very, very careful the next time I opened up the cage.

But enough of such nonsense…today was mostly spent cleaning up (and not just blossom though there was an awful lot of it which, fortunately, hadn’t taken seed) with a phone call to mum and dad, a bit of shopping and a walk in the park thrown in.

Speaking of the park…I snapped these two photos of the poodles looking gorgeous and do not see any reason why I should keep them to myself.

Day-z the Proud

Carmen the Cutie

I’m getting quite keen on embedding video in blog posts. So, today, we have an odd little film about Day-z.

I called her and then started filming. She came to me then turned straight back to Mirinda when she realised I wasn’t serious. The thing is, Mirinda had a bowl of cereal. Day-z is quite committed to bowls of cereal. A little later in the day, following study and gardening, she watched me intently from Mirinda’s knee.

Day-z keeping a keen eye out for the appearance of anything edible

I’m not sure what she was expecting but she didn’t get it.

It was Good Friday today. Everything was open in Farnham (albeit some establishments opened later than usual) so it was just like any other day. This is quite good for an atheist. Easter Sunday, on the other hand, is going to be a right pain because everything will be closed. This means I have to plan food a day ahead. This is not something I enjoy.

And there was a lot of religious hoo ha on the radio. Radio 4 seemed to highlight Jesus every time I turned it on and then, in the afternoon while I was gardening, and before I fell asleep in the sun listening to the football, I switched to Radio 4 Extra and what was on? The bloody Life of Jesus! And so I put the football on (Crystal Palace and…someone else) and then fell asleep it was so interesting. Naturally I’m blaming Radio 4 for not finishing in the garden.

Talking of religious appropriation…today I went looking for a simnel cake. I’d never heard of them but Mirinda had some during the week and loved it. I was despatched to find some. I didn’t and so I’m going to make one tomorrow but that’s not the point. It seems that simnel cake has become yet another symbol of Easter.

Originally made in Medieval times, young girls in service would bake a simnel cake for their mothers and take it to them on Mothering Sunday. Since appropriation, eleven little balls of marzipan have been added to the top. These represent the eleven apostles, Judas being left out because he was a little too interested in money. Actually I’ve never been convinced with Judas committing suicide. It seems very unlikely and highly suspicious.

No-one knows why the simnel cake is called a simnel cake. The best anyone can come up with is that it derives from the Latin word simila, meaning fine, wheaten flour which was used in making it. Why the church decided to steal the idea and make it their own is anyone’s guess but it probably involves treachery and an attempt at boosting attendance with a familiar symbol.

Speaking of Easter traditions…I listened, agape (one of the guys Mirinda works with is a total gaper and I just love the idea) the other day while one of the girls in Starbucks related for us the Czech version of Easter. Apparently (and I’ve verified it elsewhere) the boys in her village would go around with these light whips and try and whip the girls legs in exchange for chocolate (it was eggs originally but, understandably, people prefer chocolate now). It was seen as an indication of how gorgeous you were if a lot of boys whipped you a lot. However, the biggest and bestest was if they grabbed you and threw you in the river. Nice.

Now the rabbits I understand when it comes to Easter. It is, after all, a festival time to celebrate the renewal that arrives with spring. For some reason, rabbits popping out and nibbling away at the new growth is a strong springtime image. And eggs as well. Obviously the result of springtime friskiness by the birds. A lot of countries have eggs as Easter symbols.

But why did they become chocolate? When was it considered a good thing to introduce confection to both the Rite of Spring and the Death of Jesus? I love chocolate as much as any other normal person but really…I don’t see it. Was it a fiendish piece of marketing genius by Cadbury’s back in Victorian times? I could probably find out by Googling “why do we have chocolate eggs at Easter” but I’m not going to. I like to think it’s a big conspiracy by the capitalist overlords, perpetrated on the poor and weak. That’s more fun.

Carmen trying to resist my hugging her

I’m just going to finish with this delightfully affectionate photograph of me hugging Carmen. She is clearly enjoying it a LOT!

Well, I am flabbergasted. Yesterday’s post received 60 hits (I generally average about 20, what with all the Jenny Agutter searching that goes on) because of the fatality. Searches to find out what happened all pointed to my blog post because there was no other up-to-date information regarding the incident. That says more about South West Trains and how they like to keep their customers informed than it does about me, I’m sure.

Anyway, that was yesterday (I can only bask for so long in past glories) and this is today. Another jewel of a day with horizon to horizon blue skies and the temperature in the early 20s. The type of day that simply makes a spring. It also makes people smile more.

I had an early Talking Newspaper so was off to the studio before I’d actually woken up. That may be a slight exaggeration but I did have quite a late night waiting for Mirinda to get in after seeing Keira. She reports that the play was very good, Keira Knightly surprisingly so with the other actress better. Ben spent the whole time trying to look up Keira’s dress, which indicates the depth of his theatrical appreciation…I guess.

Starting again…I left early for the Talking Newspaper because this week I was going to read the sports! This job which everyone hates, was one I was really looking forward to. Basically I took all the sports stories that involved (or mentioned) Farnham and Aldershot and wrote an entire story including all of them. I had five minutes to fill and, I think, managed. I was pleased with it although it was difficult keeping the time because I was on the other side of the desk to the counter that indicates time elapsed. I had to make do with Sue, the engineer, gesticulating frantically at me that I was drawing close to the end.

Speaking of Sue (my favourite engineer), she really put the kibosh on the recording when she stated, right at the beginning, that we were such a good team of readers that we’d have no interruptions and everything would go really, really smoothly. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

From the first sentence, things went wrong. There were stumbles, missed timings, coughs and, the best mistake ever, Bridget kept cracking up.

We have a columnist in the local paper called Frank Scribe. Nearly every week he’ll write a few paragraphs about different subjects that take his fancy and, generally, complain about things. When we had looked at them, I took the football/cricket story not noticing the content of the others. Bridget had one on dogging at a local spot on the Hogs Back.

It was just like a blooper reel. Every time she started reading, she would just crack up. It was hilarious. All of us were in stitches by the time she announced she was going to give up and read something else. She handed me the dogging piece and asked me to read it. Which I did. In one way it’s a pity all of her laughing has to be edited out. It really was very funny.

When we finished and left the studio, the next group gave us a lot of funny looks and asked what all the commotion had been. We feigned innocence as we left. Poor Sue will have had quite a job cleaning the recording up. We apologised profusely.

Given that my wife insists, I stopped off for my pint at the Nelson’s Arms before going home to the crazy poodles who insisted on a walk. Which we took and met Rocky, a lapso poodle cross.

I was amazed. He looked exactly like the girls. I thought he was a poodle as well. I walked with his owner halfway around the park and we chatted about our dogs for a pleasant half hour. Interestingly when she bought Rocky, her husband didn’t want a dog. She surprised him with Rocky and the two have formed such a strong bond that now she is generally left out of their secret world of master and dog. Anyway, this could be a nice option to add to the ‘next dog’ mix.

I realise that I nearly always feature Carmen in the blog but rarely manage a shot of Day-z. But not today. Here’s a shot of her looking like she’s just woken up. Who am I kidding…she had just woken up after I called her name.

Day-z jolted from a dream about her celebration toy magically becoming whole again

After the excitement of yesterday, it was with a sigh of relief that today rumbled along full of…nothing. Much.

I was mostly occupied with housework, enjoying the mundanity and the lack of pressing bodies squeezed into a metal cylinder. Though the weather has been extremely changeable, it’s not been too bad. To prove it, the guy was out trimming the cricket pitch up in the park. Not that he looked too impressed.

The Farnham cricket ground and pavillion

One highlight (there were two) was when Day-z ran off into the woods (Carmen is still on the lead). We left her to run around for a few minutes and then, when she hadn’t returned, I called her. She almost never returns on the first call so I called again and whistled.

I felt Carmen tugging on the lead and looked down. Standing there, looking at me all quizzical, was a white Westie, sitting, her tail wagging beneath her. I bent down and patted her, wondering where her owner was. Carmen said hello in her dog way, which was difficult given the Westie was sitting down.

I heard a voice in the distance calling out “Daisy?” and looked up. An old chap was striding towards us and the Westie looked around and ran off towards him.

Meanwhile, Day-z burst from the woods and ran straight towards this old chap as if it was me. When she reached him, she immediately realised her mistake. Her tail went down and she searched frantically for me. The old chap bent over to pat her but she was gone, running towards me like a frightened pheasant.

I smiled at Carmen as Day-z reached us. Carmen winked at me, realising this would never happen to her. I’ve yet to meet another dog called Carmen. I looked up, wanting to share the jape with the old chap but he’d turned around and wandered off with his Daisy.

The second highlight was a little more disastrous. While I was burning the cardboard and bits of paper with our names and address on them, Carmen decided she wanted to play with her sister. In order to do this, she grabbed Day-z’s favourite toy and ran around the garden with it in her mouth, teasing her sister mercilessly.

The first few times Carmen ran passed her, Day-z gave a few tentative snaps at the toy but generally pretended she wasn’t interested. This never lasts long and she suddenly made a successful grab at it, grabbing hold of one of the ends. Then ensued a rough and tumble tug of war with the toy as the rope. And then it happened.

They suddenly split apart, rolling around, dazed and confused. Day-z dropped a round bit out her mouth and Carmen looked at the remaining piece at her feet where she’d dropped it. Day-z was very, very confused. She picked up her piece and took it over to Carmen’s piece. Carmen, thinking she had to make herself scarce, came over to join me at the burn bin.

We watched as Day-z proceeded to move both pieces from safe place to safe place. She does this with her toys all the time. From the twisty tree to the bird table and back again. I have no idea what she’s doing or why. It’s also what she does when she’s sick of playing the retrieval game with me.

And so, for the rest of the day, poor Day-z has been playing with both bits. Her favourite game of placing the toy on the arm of the long lounge and watching it drop, is much quicker now with the ball end and a little less so with the other bit. Some times it’s tough for a poodle.

One becomes two

Carmen had a confused look on her face as the nurse led her away down the long corridor. This has never happened before; her one way, Day-z the other. And how come Day-z gets to go with the head of the pack? What’s that about?

Day-z, on the other hand, acted as if nothing strange had happened. True, on arrival back home, she did run around looking for her sister but, basically, she has just accepted it.

This is the first time they have been separated for this length of time, ever. The previous longest was when Mirinda decided it would be a good idea to leave Day-z alone at the cottage while she took Carmen to the vet. Boy, was that a big mistake. It set the bar for neighbour hatred quite high. Day-z, being Day-z, had taken her frustrations out by complaining in a thin, reedy, high pitched voice. This upset them a bit.

When it was time for Mirinda to leave for work, we walked with her as far as the park entrance that leads to Bear Lane and had our farewells. Walking back through the park, Day-z didn’t leave my side. She was clearly confused as Carmen normally sets off first, exploring and rolling. Even when we spotted a labrador rolling in something evil and her owner yelled for her to stop or she’d be thrown outside for the rest of the day, Day-z didn’t show any interest at all. This is odd behaviour.

Back at the house, we settled down to do some serious nettle extraction in front of the compost bins. It’s terrible stuff. It’s easy enough pulling it out but under the ground there’s an invidious network, a spiderweb, of small roots, matted through everywhere. And then there’s the tap roots which appear to go down forever. Still, we persevered and eventually it was clear. We planted gladioli and a verbena banana custard.

I say ‘we’ because Day-z spent most of the time standing next to me, occasionally looking lost as if she wanted to play but had no-one to play with. A couple of times she tried to get me to run up and down the garden with her. I told her that was never going to happen.

At about 1pm, I had a phone call from the vet saying Carmen was out of the operation and slowly waking from the anaesthetic. I could go and pick her up at 3. I was down there just after.

If Day-z looked bewildered this morning, it was nothing on how Carmen looked! Obviously she was pleased to see us but not in her usual boisterous way. If anything, she just wanted to get home. She kept making this pitiful little noises as if she didn’t understand what was happening. She was clearly still a bit drugged. Day-z seemed to know she had to be a bit careful and, I’m glad to report, didn’t bite her face like she usually does.

The nurse told me to make sure Carmen had lots of rest and quiet – not a big problem where Carmen’s concerned. The scar looks pretty mean but not as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Carmen's stitches after her operation

We have to return to the vet on Friday to check for any signs of infection and then the stitches come out in 10 days. I’m just glad she made it through and is back with us…asleep on the bed…where she should be.

In 1895, John Henry Knight built, what is purported to be the first purpose-built petrol driven car in Britain. I’ve found this picture of it, courtesy of 3-wheelers.com. That’s him driving it as well.

Knight's 3 Wheeler

He test drove it on a Surrey road and was pulled over by the police and fined for driving a locomotive without a licence and not having a guy walking in front with a red flag. You can read a rather nice Wikipedia entry about him here.

And why am I writing about this, you may ask. Well, it was built in Farnham! In this building.

The Elliot Reliance Works in West Street, Farnham

I’ve never noticed the blue plaque before although I walk by it quite often on the way to (or from) the Talking Newspaper, which I did today for my presenter’s training. Which went very well, by the way. A lot of stuff about the hows and wheres, which Tony took me through. I’m sure I’ll get pretty nervous the first time I do it but, at the moment, it all looks easy enough. I have till May and three more issues as a reader before then.

On the way home I popped into the Nelson Arms for a pint. Such a lovely pub. With a lovely model of Nelson’s Victory in the window near where I sat.

HMS Victory in the Nelson Arms

This may become a regular thing after the Talking Newspaper. Speaking of which (regular drinking, I mean) there is no Nicktor Night this week! I have not been told why but I imagine Nicktor is busy with work. Next Tuesday is the plan for our next one.

When I arrived home, there was the usual mad scramble of poodles. Day-z has a celebration toy. It’s always the same one. She goes frantic looking for it whenever we get home. It could be anywhere because she tends to play with it as well, leaving it in the unlikeliest of places This is it:

Day-z's celebration toy

Whenever Carmen wants her sister to play with her, she always tries to get this toy and waves it in her face. Eventually Day-z gives in and a great game of running and wrestling ensues. It’s amazing that Carmen know this will get her going. But it always does.

Anyway, I opened the door and they went mad, Carmen jumping up at me and Day-z running all over looking for her toy. First the length of the garden then around the side then into the lounge. As I calmed Carmen down on a dining chair, I heard the frantic patter of feet racing up the stairs, running through the rooms and then back down. She had another dash into the garden. At this point she gave up looking and grabbed the manky warthog – second best by a long shot. And then I noticed where her celebration toy was. It was sat on top of the patio table.

The table is one of Carmen’s favourite places to sit, stand or lie down on. She jumps from a chair to the table with consummate ease. Day-z, on the other hand who is no less agile, will never go up there. It comes from her being scared of just about everything.

As soon as I saw the toy there I knew that Carmen had put it there deliberately, in order to upset her sister. Now I’m wondering whether she did it because she knew I was due home and it was seriously to upset her sister or as part of her trying to get Day-z to play with her. She is far too clever for a dog!

Due to a Nicktor Night, I was a bit tired today. But it was worth it. Yesterday the final chapter of the Saw franchise was released as a DVD and Nicktor bought it. Oh, with hearts a flutter, we waited for everything to be revealed; for the few things that needed clarification to be clarified. Sadly, in some respects, the film failed to deliver. It seems that the maker had lost the original intention of the movies somewhere along the line.

Instead of the main character being a force for good over evil, dispensing his own twisted sense of justice, this final chapter was about gratuitous traps and far from ingenious games. It almost redeemed itself with the long awaited return of the doctor from film 1, but this really wasn’t enough. Still, we saw it, we (sort of) enjoyed it and maybe, one day, we’ll have a Saw marathon and watch all of them back to back.

And so, tired and slightly disappointed, I attacked the day with all the va-va-va-voom of a sponge. After a lovely long chat with mum and dad, I headed into town for the shopping under a glorious blue sky. I saw on Breakfast this morning that this winter just gone had only 60% of the normal average amount of sunshine. What this means is that the dull part of the year was actually 40% greyer. I’m sure Mirinda will agree.

But there was no grey today. Spring has sprung with our weird daffodils and life is returning to the world that is Surrey. Mind you, the chap with a cloth cap who I see most mornings walking his dog (it used to be two dogs but he’s now down to one and I don’t have the heart to ask what happened to the other one) claimed yesterday and today were spring and summer rolled into two days and that was it for this year. Miserable sod!

So I shopped and had my latte at Starbucks and then strolled slowly home. I took a few photos, fully intending them to be blips, like this one, which I thought was very descriptive:

The sign at the end of Long Garden Walk in glorious perspective

But, as is often the case, I was surprised by a chance happening. While I was working in the garden, Carmen hopped up onto the kneeling frame we have and sat on it, looking a bit uncomfortable. It made me laugh out loud and, fortunately I had my camera to hand for the shot. You can see it here. It might look a bit posed, but honestly it wasn’t and I have no idea why she did it.

Anyway, having shopped and observed the big Georgian house with it’s Christmas lights still installed, (presumably because they were a bugger to put up) I headed for home.

Late (or early) Chrsitmas lights in Castle Street

Arriving home I decided to head into the garden for a bit of replanting action. I was rigorously instructed in the whats and wheres of what to move and why and I applied this knowledge to my little fork and nimble fingers. This completed (it took me ages) I had a lovely lunch (ham and sheep cheese baguette) then took the girls up to the park. There were lots of dogs about including a pair of hilarious cocker-poos.

One was caramel, the other black and they were with the same couple, who were strolling along ignoring them. This didn’t matter because they were having a fun old time without any human intervention. When I first spotted them, the black one had a good size stick in his teeth and was running around, proudly flashing it about. The caramel one clearly wanted this stick and they raced around, rolling and tumbling, jumping and wrestling but the black one wouldn’t give it up.

Finally the black one sat down and started having a good chew and I watched as the caramel one spotted his chance. He tried for the stick but the black one was too fast. He leapt to his feet, tail wagging like a fool, almost laughing at the caramel one who looked annoyed. This annoyance changed to a sly smile as he spotted another stick in the grass and pounced on it, throwing it in the air and having a wonderful time with it.

The black one stopped wagging his tail for a bit as he watched and slowly his mind ticked over. After a few seconds he dropped the stick and raced over to wrestle the new stick out of caramel’s mouth. He put up a bit of a fight but basically let the black one have it easily. The caramel one then raced over to the original stick and bounced onto it in triumph, holding it aloft and almost laughing at the foolishness of his black chum.

The black one was devastated to fall for such a school boy error. He dropped the new stick without a moments hesitation and went in pursuit of the caramel cocker-poo. My last sight of them was their tails wagging furiously as the black one chased his mate over a hill. My two ignored the entire thing, being far more interested in chasing crows. An altogether unfruitful past time in which they indulge rarely but always unsuccessfully.

So we traipsed right around the park, stopping for a few snaps on the way…

Day-z pokes her tongue out at me

…before returning to the house for more gardening and cleaning of the patio furniture, which sorely needed it. It looks like new now! Amazing how much better the garden looks just by scrapping the moss off the patio furniture.

And now I am totally exhausted, sitting here typing like a man possessed. Bed will be very welcome tonight.

Carmen amazes me sometimes. I’m not sure how she can do some of the things she does with such a tiny brain. And with legs that go the wrong way. One of her amazing things is the way she can guess where I’ll be on the path when we go for our walk. She will take off into a copse of trees, be completely hidden from view and then pop out of the trees just as I reach the same point. She does this with unerring accuracy. I don’t call her, or whistle or make any overt noise but she manages every time.

Day-z, on the other hand, just follows. When she gets left behind and only Carmen emerges, I have to whistle so she knows where we are. She always finds us eventually but I think she has more interesting things on her mind like flowers, insects, random animal droppings, etc. She gets a bit pre-occupied. Carmen, on the other hand, thinks she’s human.

Here they both are, not being particularly human at their favourite puddle.

Carmen & Day-z at the puddle in the park

To say the day was grim would be an understatement. Every now and then, the rain drizzles down and everything is misty and grey. One of those type of days Mirinda wishes she’d stayed in Oz. It’s also quite chilly and the park is awash with mud.

To add to the overall grimness, today we ran into a guy I call Mr Grumpy Grunch. He’s an odd sort of chap. About 60ish with a life worn face, he lopes around the park looking miserable as sin. (I’m not so sure that is a very accurate expression. After all, sin, by its very nature, is going to be far from miserable until after you confess it and even then the memory can be pretty good.)

I’ve seen Mr Grumpy Grunch at a couple of Aldershot games. We’ve seen him on the Slab with the other old timers. Here he doesn’t look so miserable. Instead, he whoops it up if anything happens and looks generally pretty demented. When I say when anything happens, I mean it. Someone can drop a hotdog and he’ll start doing the Macarena, chortling away to himself. If someone laughs at something funny he will go into paroxysms of hilarity, threatening to burst a blood vessel.

But in the park, he just looks permanently grumpy. He never says hello or nods and show any recognition at all, even though he’s seen me and the girls many, many times. Speaking of the girls, they know what he’s like and avoid him. Once they went up to him, tails wagging, expecting the usual comment about how cute they are but were disappointed when he just kept walking. So now they just walk around him.

As I always say, the day can be miserable enough without adding to it.

Anyway, after our walk I decided to attack the back garden. Mind you, after my last disastrous foray, I was under the strictest instructions. Armed with spade, fork, gloves and kneeling stool, I hit the hot bed. Well, the little corner that had been spared my previous decimation.

First I transplanted Carmen’s lavatera. I was amazed at the length of the roots. For something snapped off by a poodle and left for dead, it has developed a long way down underground. I had earlier prepared a patch of soil which had previously been hidden by a fresh crop of nettles, replacing the long dead stalks of last years bountiful harvest. Into this I put Carmen’s lavatera. Once packed down with fresh compost from our own compost bin, Carmen came over to inspect it. She seemed ok with it. I hope Mirinda is as happy.

I then discovered an interesting thing about strawberry plants. I planted a few when we first dug up the hot bed and I’ve been getting rid of them ever since. They are the most incredible little spreading plants. There’s no stopping them once started. I’m picking them out all the time.

Unknown to me, the strawberry plants have taken to growing in very sneaky places, making it very difficult to extract them. They are somehow aware of our love of forget-me-nots and tend to bunch around and through them. This makes their removal a very delicate operation. For this, the gloves had to come off and I had to get very close to the ground.

Because I’m on their level, Carmen & Day-z love it when I do this. They lick my face, my ears, my neck, you name it. Apart from making any delicate operation more difficult, it tickles. I am forever fending them off. Even with this constant distraction, I managed to get rid of most of them. We’re expecting rain tonight so I just know they’ll all grow back.

Before quitting, I cut back a shrub that was getting a bit scraggy and which Mirinda distinctly pointed at declaring it needed to be cut back to a foot. It is now about 18 inches. This may sound like I’m being contrary but it’s actually because I have an absolute lack of measurement guessing. Because of this, I always cut high.

My gardening was stopped by the failing light and the approaching black clouds. I hit the shower and felt like I’d achieved something. Fingers crossed I’m not in trouble again.

Talk about polar opposites! After yesterday’s glorious weather, today is a damp squib! BBC Weather had it right – sun up north, rain down here. But not your belting it down, swamping the world type rain. More your miserable type of drizzly rain; the kind that Julius Caesar moaned about so long ago. Which, to some extent and in some small way, disproves climate change.

I was supposed to go to Winchester with Dawn today. She had an interview with her PHD supervisor at the uni and I was going to go with her. We’d planned to have lunch and a wander around Winchester, perhaps stopping at King Alfred for a historic blip. Sadly, it didn’t happen.

Dawn couldn’t get the dog minder and fell back on her parents, which means going in the opposite direction. I could have caught the hour and half bus but it was a lot easier to just re-schedule for next week. So we did.

A day of general housework and spring cleaning then. And a bit of IT help for Mirinda. And a Sainsbury’s order which leads nicely to one of Carmen’s odd foibles.

I do a Sainsbury’s order about every 6 weeks. It’s all the big things that I don’t want to carry home because it would mean about 30 trips back and forth. And so I order online and they deliver when I ask for it. Generally when the driver arrives I’m in the middle of something, so I leave the bags in the hallway until I’ve finished whatever I’m doing. I’ll then put it all away.

It’s generally just dog food (three types of cans, Dentastix and dry food), laundry powder and other chemicals, toilet rolls and, always, beer. So nothing that needs immediate attention. It can wait until I’m ready, I always say to Carmen as I return to whatever I was in the middle of.

Today the driver arrived while I was cleaning the bathroom so I dropped my gloves and went down to collect it all. Naturally the dogs go off but I just shut them in the lounge and they eventually calm down. So I collected the groceries and left them in the hallway while I returned to the bathroom after opening the door to let the girls out.

Now, when I work upstairs, Carmen always lies on the bed – Mirinda calls her Doona dog because of her sleep affair with our bedding – while Day-z generally sits on the window sill in the lounge waiting for Mirinda. Today, however, I came out of the bathroom and looked into the bedroom to make sure Carmen was ok but she wasn’t there. This was very odd. The weather was so bad today that they spent most of it asleep in lieu of traipsing mud throughout the house and Carmen should have been in her usual place. Then I found her.

She was lying in the corridor, guarding my beer. Truly. Not the dog food or the toilet rolls, just the beer. I know, because as I started putting things away, she didn’t move until I picked up the beer. She looked at me and dragged herself to her feet, gave her tail a little shake and went into the lounge to lie on the big lounge (her other favourite place).

Naturally I told her she was a good girl, keeping my precious 6X safe. She is a great dog!

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An update on Ruby Bentall, my celeb spot from yesterday. I’ve read a Guardian article from January which says she is presently rehearsing for Mike Leigh’s new play at the National. It also states that she is the daughter of actress Janine Duvitski. She played Pippa Trench in One Foot in the Grave alongside Angus Deayton as her husband, Patrick.

I remember her fondly as the awful Mrs Crawley Bute in Vanity Fair. One of my favourite books and TV series. An excellent portrayal from page to screen. Mind you, that’s true of everyone in it.

Interestingly, Janine appeared in Mike Leigh’s famous play, Abigail’s Party, which was created by the cast in workshop. Apparently, Ruby is up for more of the same. Her father, Paul, is also in the play and they all live in Holborn, which explains why I saw her. Actually, Mirinda and I were wondering how cool it would be to live in the back streets we were wandering around, not knowing that The Bentalls probably live in one of the places we were scrutinising.

It all started sedate enough. The usual 7:30 wake up call to Mirinda, breakfast then a lovely walk in the park for the puppies and me. We saw lots of dogs out and about but none the poodles were interested in. There was one little fluff ball of a puppy who just wanted to play with Carmen but she went all shy and ran away. The puppy was called Lilian – Lilly for short.

It’s pretty typical of Carmen. She clearly doesn’t remember what it was to be young and boisterous. And she needs to run around a lot. At her last weigh in the vet said she needed to get more exercise and eat less food. Neither of these options appeal to her. In fact, her idea of exercise is dreaming about running in the park. Her feet go like Billy-O!

Not so Day-z. Slim, manic, Day-z. Though she tends to run away from anything and everything, so maybe that’s why she’s not overweight!

Anyway, having walked them and taken possession of our newest possession (a Garmin SatNav – I was totally convinced about the wonder of these in France with both John and Darren having them in their cars) I quickly showered then left for my usual lunch date with Mirinda.

I sat in the reception area, sipping my Starbucks, watching her take control of a meeting she was having in a corridor in front of me. I love the way she stands up. The other people are completely put off. Keeps them on edge. A wonderful tactic, skilfully employed.

Anyway, we had our usual wander around London streets and lunch at Eat, before I dropped her back at the office. But, unlike most Wednesdays, my day was far from over.

My next stop was Malpins, the electronics store. Mirinda’s DVD in the flat is being very temperamental and she needs a replacement. I checked online and found a very reasonable mini jobbie at Malpins, so that’s where I went. The fact that Malpins is a massive store full of all things that make boys shiver with anticipation, had nothing to do with it.

Actually, there was little time for shivering (sad face) as I took a box from the shelf, paid for it then left. Interestingly a postcode was not required this time although I was ready for them. This is just the sort of double standard that drives me crazy! Still, I took the box and walked quickly over to Liverpool Street station to board a very bumpy bus to Docklands.

I was in and out of the flat in around 15 minutes. In that time I managed to collect the mail (it is all addressed to me after all, and Mirinda never collects it anyway), unpack and install the DVD player and threw the old one and packaging away. I had to write the code for the garbage room on my hand because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t memorise the 7 characters involved.

Still, I was back on the road to South Quay DLR station like the Flash, just missing a train. Not that this matters much. Apart from the fact that trains arrive every five minutes, the view over the docks and towards the Thames is lovely. Surprisingly the train was packed (the one I’d missed looked almost empty) and I stood all the way to Bank.

The change from the DLR to the Circle Line at Bank involves a walk of about 15 miles because you are actually going to Monument Station but all underground and as a continuation of your journey. Unlike Carmen, however, I don’t mind a bit of brisk walking and I arrived at the station just in time to miss the train. Four District Line trains followed in quick succession. Oddly, two of them went to Upminster and followed each other just two minutes apart. I’m not at all sure why. Anyway, it was only five minutes before I was on a Circle train to Barbican.

We had a brief wait at Aldgate because the train was early (a Tube train that was early? What’s that about!) and a chap stepped on and vaguely asked the carriage if it was a District Line train. Three of us said, no, it was a Circle train and he wandered off, back onto the platform. After a while, the chap next to me said “He’s not even at the right station. The District line doesn’t stop at Aldgate.” I chuckled, cruelly and replied “He’ll have a long wait then.”

At Barbican, I popped into the Tesco on the corner for some coffee, sugar and milk and then went to the flat at Florin Court, where I worked on my dissertation for a few hours while I waited.

I was waiting for two people. A Schumanian from the realo, who wanted to look at the flat and for Dan. I had placed the bed and the two chests of drawers on Freecycle on the weekend and Dan had said he wanted them. He was arriving at about 6:30 in a rental van to take them away. And he did.

Dan was a lovely guy. He works at Deloittes. I know because he said he was sitting in his office a block from the flat but had to go home, change, pick up the van then drive back to the flat. Anyway, I helped him load the booty and he drove off happy as the proverbial.

Back in the flat I did a quick furniture rearranging then wandered across the road to catch the old number 4 bus to Waterloo. I’m going to miss the old number 4 when I’ve finished with the flat for there’ll be little reason to get it again. Except, maybe for my graduation. When I’ve finished this damn dissertation, that is.

Which I must now get back to as I sit on the crowded 8pm train home.