A butterfly landed on Freya’s head

There’s definitely something to be said for waking up in your own bed, in your own room, in your own house, having retired early with the temperature never rising any higher than 22 degrees. Of course the lack of puppies was a bit sad but, eventually, that would be fixed.

I walked up to town eventually in order to shop and visit Starbucks. Because I don’t visit Starbucks every day now, they tend to not know when I go away so there were no ‘How was France?’ or ‘Was it a good holiday?’ or ‘Did you get caught in the riots?’ Still, it was nice seeing Chantelle and Clara and, after a while, Livy who seems to have beaten her moth fear. Or so she claims.

Back at home, Mirinda was Skyping with both Bob and Fi, for the first time in a while. Then, after lunch, she went to the garden centre which, like me going to Starbucks, is her way of reconnecting with an old friend. She returned with a car load of colour to replace the dead and dying.

We then went and picked up the girls.

To say they went mental when they saw me would be an understatement. The woman leading them out was hard pressed to keep hold of them. Emma was shaking with happiness and Freya was being dragged around (because they have a joined lead), her tail a blur of delight.


At home they ran around like crazy things, making sure everything was still in place, and the world was back to normal. They were very, very happy. At one point Mirinda called out to me from the garden, saying that a butterfly had landed on Freya’s head. When I asked if she had noticed, Mirinda said no, she was obviously too glad to be home.

I was doing the laundry most of the day and, from the time they were home, both puppies followed me from room to room, making sure I didn’t vanish off to some foreign country again.

Where are you off to?

The day progressed with Mirinda mostly in the garden making up for a week away in one day. I think she did a bit too much but she wants the garden to look its best for our visitors to come. There were a lot of pots being planted, roses being dead headed and weeds extracted while the sparrows carried on like lunatics and the starlings fought over fat balls.

It was an idyllic day.

Mirinda in the garden

And, of course, Chez Gaz was once more open for business.

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