I'm sorry for the lack of further information on The Owner's frenetic activity late last week but as the events unfolded you really could have knocked me down with an empty Bonio box. It was about the right time when I would be expecting The Owner to have started running up the stairs holding his belly when I heard a minibus pull up outside the cottage.
Ever protective of my territory I went rushing out ready to have an opinion, or several if required, when out of this minibus got Strange Man who I did kind of recognise. He wandered round to the other front door and lifted out Strange Woman! Now I do recognise her, she always gives me cream crackers with Marmite on! Can't stand the Marmite, but you never turn down anything to eat do you? Inside the minibus there was another shape which sort of unfolded sniffed loudly and grunted in the way that teenagers do when more than a few yards away from the fridge. I think.... yes it is.......it is Small Boy!! That was why The Owner had been making beds. Strange Man and Strange Woman left and she didn't even give me a Cream Cracker, with or without the Marmite! She has just been moved from my favourite list to my non favourite list! So, we have Small Boy for a few days........ now what little misdemeanour's do I need to offload? As it turned out I felt it wouldn't be right, he didn't need any help. Probably best to gloss over the tree that no longer has any branches or leaves but it did prove just how sharp his axe is! So that's alright then. Today he has just left and gone back home after Strange Woman came and picked him up and I have to say I was a little sad because I haven't seen him for a long while and it may be a while again.The Owner is strangely quiet this evening as well, I tried my little run around the carpet but I didn't really have my heart in it and it didn't make him smile either. The house is too quiet but I guess we'll get used to it again. Think I'll go and find my comfy cushion.......
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
The Owners Second Breakfast
Am I allowed to make predictions? Well I think I can make just the one at this point and with a certain sense of inevitability. I think The Owner will be having a tender tummy before too long and soon he will be running up the stairs holding his belly with a certain sense of urgency.
He was up early this morning, far too early. He has been busy making beds and flitting around energetically with the duster (not a pretty sight as the sun comes over the horizon) and then chasing me around the room with that ruddy Dyson. Oh how we laughed! With altogether far too much energy expended that early in the morning he predictably made himself a cup of tea and collapsed into his favourite armchair and fell asleep. Asleep, that was, until his hand went limp and he spilled his tea all over his lap! Then he starts fidgeting, well as you can imagine I thought this was due in some part to his rather tea stained shirt and trousers. But no, he wanders off into the kitchen with that rather strange way of walking reserved for when a hoomun has wet shirt and trousers and starts clattering around in the bread bin. Empty! Well I knew it was! I thought this would have started more flour filled hours of fun as he made some more, but no! A quick visit to the freezer in the shed and he returns with a frozen loaf of bread and a solid pack of bacon. He tried valiantly to separate the frozen rashers and eventually threw the broken bits, still solid, into the pan and then turns his attention to trying to thaw sufficient of the loaf to cut two slices off the end. Bacon just about thawed and bread buttered he balanced the plate with the bread on top of the chip pan. Well even I could see that the plate was barely the same size as the chip pan! We now have a plate and two slices of bread floating around in the bottom of the chip pan and the plate appears not to want to come back out of the hole it so easily slid through. Unwilling to go through the whole bread thawing routine again he retrieves his pruning saw from the shed and cuts two more slices of bread and tells himself that it will thaw from the heat in the bacon. Presumably the same bacon which has been off the heat for a good ten minutes now and has fat starting to congeal around the edges. He proudly carried the fruit of his labours into the lounge to watch BBC Breakfast with the bread glistening like the grass on a frosty morning and the bread covered in a layer of congealed fat. Like I said, I can safely predict he will soon be running upstairs to the toilet with a pained expression on his face.
He was up early this morning, far too early. He has been busy making beds and flitting around energetically with the duster (not a pretty sight as the sun comes over the horizon) and then chasing me around the room with that ruddy Dyson. Oh how we laughed! With altogether far too much energy expended that early in the morning he predictably made himself a cup of tea and collapsed into his favourite armchair and fell asleep. Asleep, that was, until his hand went limp and he spilled his tea all over his lap! Then he starts fidgeting, well as you can imagine I thought this was due in some part to his rather tea stained shirt and trousers. But no, he wanders off into the kitchen with that rather strange way of walking reserved for when a hoomun has wet shirt and trousers and starts clattering around in the bread bin. Empty! Well I knew it was! I thought this would have started more flour filled hours of fun as he made some more, but no! A quick visit to the freezer in the shed and he returns with a frozen loaf of bread and a solid pack of bacon. He tried valiantly to separate the frozen rashers and eventually threw the broken bits, still solid, into the pan and then turns his attention to trying to thaw sufficient of the loaf to cut two slices off the end. Bacon just about thawed and bread buttered he balanced the plate with the bread on top of the chip pan. Well even I could see that the plate was barely the same size as the chip pan! We now have a plate and two slices of bread floating around in the bottom of the chip pan and the plate appears not to want to come back out of the hole it so easily slid through. Unwilling to go through the whole bread thawing routine again he retrieves his pruning saw from the shed and cuts two more slices of bread and tells himself that it will thaw from the heat in the bacon. Presumably the same bacon which has been off the heat for a good ten minutes now and has fat starting to congeal around the edges. He proudly carried the fruit of his labours into the lounge to watch BBC Breakfast with the bread glistening like the grass on a frosty morning and the bread covered in a layer of congealed fat. Like I said, I can safely predict he will soon be running upstairs to the toilet with a pained expression on his face.
Water Delivery Driver
Yesterday I made a new friend! Water Delivery Driver turned up on the wrong day only it wasn't Water Delivery Driver. Confused? So was I! It was his van and I always have a grumble when he turns up. Not because I am being agressive or anything but it makes him nervous and that amuses me. Mainly coz there are few in this world over whom i have any real authority.
So I psyched myself up for a big grumble at just the right point, and by that I mean when he has two big bottles of water, one in each hand and he is struggling to get in to the office door. This is the point at which it unbalances him most I have found and therefore gets the best effect. Well as he launched himself out of the door of the van and I was drawing a lung full of breath for a really big grumble, I realised it was not him! The Owner said his name was Relief (I think) and he looked at me and said "You ain't gonna mean that grumble are you?" and smiled. So I didn't, which was quite a good move coz he gave me a whole days supply of Bonio's in one go, which left The Owner quite speechless at the time and I really like Bonio's! Have I mentioned that before? Then this morning I was caught a little off guard. Relief's Van arrived again which was a little strange I thought so I may have been on for another Bonio or two again. Then Water Delivery Driver got out of the van. I am confused by this and not to mention caught out in the wrong place and without sufficient breath in my lungs for the customary grumble which was a bit of a shame but I promise to make up for it next time.
So I psyched myself up for a big grumble at just the right point, and by that I mean when he has two big bottles of water, one in each hand and he is struggling to get in to the office door. This is the point at which it unbalances him most I have found and therefore gets the best effect. Well as he launched himself out of the door of the van and I was drawing a lung full of breath for a really big grumble, I realised it was not him! The Owner said his name was Relief (I think) and he looked at me and said "You ain't gonna mean that grumble are you?" and smiled. So I didn't, which was quite a good move coz he gave me a whole days supply of Bonio's in one go, which left The Owner quite speechless at the time and I really like Bonio's! Have I mentioned that before? Then this morning I was caught a little off guard. Relief's Van arrived again which was a little strange I thought so I may have been on for another Bonio or two again. Then Water Delivery Driver got out of the van. I am confused by this and not to mention caught out in the wrong place and without sufficient breath in my lungs for the customary grumble which was a bit of a shame but I promise to make up for it next time.
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Mowing the lawns
Last night had it's moments of great personal triumph for me and also moments of some confusion. Last night The Owner's friend, who for now I must call Bonio Man, (he has another name that The Owner is always calling him but I am too polite to mention and too innocent to understand) he came came and gave me one of the Bonio's out of his own special box he keeps specially for me in The Owner's studio.
Then he took The Owner off to get some petrol for his mower. I tried my little 'Gimme another Bonio', dance when they got back but he didn't so he isn't my favourite now. But I'm sure that will change again when next he visits and responds to my little dance! I should explain that I find that The Owner's mower is something akin to his Dyson and terrifies me! On this occasion I thought I would steel myself and be very brave and I sat on the front door mat just outside the front porch and watched him cut all the lawns. I was so pleased with myself, at my bravery, that I launched forth when The Owner shut the mower down to go and see The Owner, that I forgot he had opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass and left them both on the table by the front door. Ooops! That's ok, he has another glass indoors...... and bottle. So my triumph was to beat my fear of the mower. My confusion involves my nemesis recently; Blackbird. Mowing finished and glass cleared up he opens another bottle and pours himself a glass and sits on the lawn. Behind the cherry orchard I can hear Blackbird giving it big noise with his "dog, dog, dog, cat, cat, catcatcatcatcat". I don't know why as there isn't a cat for miles! Then comes the source of my confusion, Blackbird comes down and has a good rummage around in the grass box from The Owner's mower right by his feet, within launching distance of me. Now why do that when he was shouting only moments earlier about there being a dog nearby. Still it made a nice end to the day as I curled up beside The Owner with my chin on his lap as he drank his wine and watched Blackbird look for his tea. If he'd asked I would have let him have a bit of my dried food, although on second thoughts, no need to waste it! I think we may have a rook living in the trees that is either blind or stupid. One of them was clearly trying to show the stupid one something as it kept going "There, there!" and the other one would respond "Where, where?". They kept this going for about half an hour, I think I would have given up trying to show it by that time!
Then he took The Owner off to get some petrol for his mower. I tried my little 'Gimme another Bonio', dance when they got back but he didn't so he isn't my favourite now. But I'm sure that will change again when next he visits and responds to my little dance! I should explain that I find that The Owner's mower is something akin to his Dyson and terrifies me! On this occasion I thought I would steel myself and be very brave and I sat on the front door mat just outside the front porch and watched him cut all the lawns. I was so pleased with myself, at my bravery, that I launched forth when The Owner shut the mower down to go and see The Owner, that I forgot he had opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass and left them both on the table by the front door. Ooops! That's ok, he has another glass indoors...... and bottle. So my triumph was to beat my fear of the mower. My confusion involves my nemesis recently; Blackbird. Mowing finished and glass cleared up he opens another bottle and pours himself a glass and sits on the lawn. Behind the cherry orchard I can hear Blackbird giving it big noise with his "dog, dog, dog, cat, cat, catcatcatcatcat". I don't know why as there isn't a cat for miles! Then comes the source of my confusion, Blackbird comes down and has a good rummage around in the grass box from The Owner's mower right by his feet, within launching distance of me. Now why do that when he was shouting only moments earlier about there being a dog nearby. Still it made a nice end to the day as I curled up beside The Owner with my chin on his lap as he drank his wine and watched Blackbird look for his tea. If he'd asked I would have let him have a bit of my dried food, although on second thoughts, no need to waste it! I think we may have a rook living in the trees that is either blind or stupid. One of them was clearly trying to show the stupid one something as it kept going "There, there!" and the other one would respond "Where, where?". They kept this going for about half an hour, I think I would have given up trying to show it by that time!
It's pigeons this time!
This morning, (early, since you ask) outside the boot room door I could here that ruddy blackbird winding himself up to a crescendo. "Ooooooooooooh its a dog! Ooooooooooh its a dog! Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, cat, cat, cat, cat,cat,cat,cat etc".
Why he changed to a cat I shall never know as there aren't any cats around here and if they were I feel they would have been doing the right thing and been in bed asleep. Which to be frank is where I wish I was at that time. I had got the first bit right, I was in bed and I had got the second bit right as well until he started his infernal row on the roof above me. Suddenly, he took of across the manor gardens and all was quiet again for a moment until two Hercules from Lyneham masquerading as pigeons flew across and landed on the roof of the boot room and started gossiping among themselves. "Do you wanna know who, who, who?", asked the first. "I'd love to know who, who, who.", replied the other one. "I'll tell you who, who, who!" said the first. "Who, who, who?", urged the second. Now, please don't misunderstand me, I love a bit of gossip as much as the next dog. But these two useless bits of raptor bait never got to the point and said who had done what. A quick woof disturbed them and they flapped off to go and annoy someone else with their pointless gossip. On reflection the woof was not the best way of getting my point across and achieving enough peace to return to my slumber. I was just drifting off again when I heard The Owner come grumbling down the stairs and then evict me from my bed to go up the garden whilst he puts the kettle on. "I was sound asleep when I dreamt I heard you bark Jack!" he said as he put my breakfast in my dish. There then followed much breadmaking activity in the kitchen accompanied by singing and stuff but he is clearly getting much better at it as this time there was no scary sights with him covered in flour. However, much worse was to follow, it's very fast noisy car season again! To my understanding they still finished up back where they started! I think they must all have been using one of those useless Satnav things that The Owner threw out of the car window in a fit of pique last year after driving round and round Swindon town centre and not getting anywhere other than back where he started from!
Why he changed to a cat I shall never know as there aren't any cats around here and if they were I feel they would have been doing the right thing and been in bed asleep. Which to be frank is where I wish I was at that time. I had got the first bit right, I was in bed and I had got the second bit right as well until he started his infernal row on the roof above me. Suddenly, he took of across the manor gardens and all was quiet again for a moment until two Hercules from Lyneham masquerading as pigeons flew across and landed on the roof of the boot room and started gossiping among themselves. "Do you wanna know who, who, who?", asked the first. "I'd love to know who, who, who.", replied the other one. "I'll tell you who, who, who!" said the first. "Who, who, who?", urged the second. Now, please don't misunderstand me, I love a bit of gossip as much as the next dog. But these two useless bits of raptor bait never got to the point and said who had done what. A quick woof disturbed them and they flapped off to go and annoy someone else with their pointless gossip. On reflection the woof was not the best way of getting my point across and achieving enough peace to return to my slumber. I was just drifting off again when I heard The Owner come grumbling down the stairs and then evict me from my bed to go up the garden whilst he puts the kettle on. "I was sound asleep when I dreamt I heard you bark Jack!" he said as he put my breakfast in my dish. There then followed much breadmaking activity in the kitchen accompanied by singing and stuff but he is clearly getting much better at it as this time there was no scary sights with him covered in flour. However, much worse was to follow, it's very fast noisy car season again! To my understanding they still finished up back where they started! I think they must all have been using one of those useless Satnav things that The Owner threw out of the car window in a fit of pique last year after driving round and round Swindon town centre and not getting anywhere other than back where he started from!
Making the morning bread
Yesterday The Owner forgot to get a new loaf of bread out of the freezer. Now I did warn you he was in a funny frame of mind. So instead of going out and getting one in from the freezer in the shed like any normal and sane person would have done, he announces that he has all the ingredients and he will get up early and make himself a loaf of bread for his breakfast 'bread and marmalade'.
I just know this is going to end in tears! Half past four he comes crashing down the stairs this morning. Only crashing because he wouldn't turn the light on because "its spring and the nights are drawing out and we shouldn't need them on". I watched him, bemused, for a while as big bowls and pots and scales and stuff came out of the cupboard, before I headed for my comfy cushion by the fire. There was still a little warmth left in it and it would probably be safest in there. Why he was going to all that trouble escapes me as he has a perfectly good breadmaker on the worktop gathering dust. My curiosity got the better of me after an hour and I wandered out to see what he was doing. I was a little taken aback at first, well it was about the same shape as The Owner, except his normally greying hair was now white with flour. For that matter so was the floor, cupboards, stove, sink and even some up on the lights on the ceiling! I left quickly before it got me as well and returned to my cushion. I was awoken next by the smell of burning wafting through the cottage and noted a blue tinge to the air coming from the kitchen. So all was going well then! First batch failed he drags the breadmaker out from under the layers of dust topped off with a layer of flour which matched the rest of the kitchen. Quite why he doesn't go and just get a loaf out of the freezer I am not sure. It is now ten o-clock and the bread maker has long since finished and he is still asleep on the sofa! I was sure he had an important meeting first thing this morning, I wonder if I should wake him? Let me have another snooze first whilst I decide how I should do it.
I just know this is going to end in tears! Half past four he comes crashing down the stairs this morning. Only crashing because he wouldn't turn the light on because "its spring and the nights are drawing out and we shouldn't need them on". I watched him, bemused, for a while as big bowls and pots and scales and stuff came out of the cupboard, before I headed for my comfy cushion by the fire. There was still a little warmth left in it and it would probably be safest in there. Why he was going to all that trouble escapes me as he has a perfectly good breadmaker on the worktop gathering dust. My curiosity got the better of me after an hour and I wandered out to see what he was doing. I was a little taken aback at first, well it was about the same shape as The Owner, except his normally greying hair was now white with flour. For that matter so was the floor, cupboards, stove, sink and even some up on the lights on the ceiling! I left quickly before it got me as well and returned to my cushion. I was awoken next by the smell of burning wafting through the cottage and noted a blue tinge to the air coming from the kitchen. So all was going well then! First batch failed he drags the breadmaker out from under the layers of dust topped off with a layer of flour which matched the rest of the kitchen. Quite why he doesn't go and just get a loaf out of the freezer I am not sure. It is now ten o-clock and the bread maker has long since finished and he is still asleep on the sofa! I was sure he had an important meeting first thing this morning, I wonder if I should wake him? Let me have another snooze first whilst I decide how I should do it.
On Mothering Sunday
It has been a strangely quiet day here today. The Owner came downstairs in a strangely melancholic mood and these are always a worry as you never quite know what his behaviour will turn to. He has moped around the house and lit candles everywhere, frankly I worry about the soot on the ceiling as you would imagine.
There are two special candles lit by the picture of his Mum who I never knew but clearly has a lot to answer for and seems to be in some way responsible so far today for his apparent melancholy. After two large mugs of tea and an equally large coffee he starts to fidget and this is the dangerous time coz you never know quite what scheme is beginning to hatch inside his mind. Suddenly he jumps up....... a plan has clearly formed! He goes out into the boot room and rummages around behind the fridge and drags out something covered in cobwebs and other dust. Something which clearly hasn't seen the light of day for quite a while. I think it is called an ironing board. His ironing and drying seems normally to comprise putting wet clothes in tumble dryer... taking dry clothes out of tumble dryer and throwing them into basket in a heap. Then each morning the said heap is rummaged around until he finds the least creased shirt and putting it on with a jacket or jumper quickly over the top so no-one knows he hasn't ironed it. Several shirts which had clearly been the most creased for quite a while were liberated from behind the tumble dryer, brushed down and put in a heap for ironing. The iron was also liberated from under the big heap of shirts that were too creased to wear and all were put to good use. The heap of neatly folded shirts and towels and other stuff was growing steadily as he tried to convince, um, well himself mainly, that this wouldn't take a moment to do. Oh how we laughed, as he squirted water out of his steam iron all over me as I curled up on the carpet until, perhaps unsurprisingly, it ran out of water. So he goes grumbling off out into the kitchen to find a jug to replenish the water. Now picture this, the dining room carpet is covered with little heaps of freshly ironed stuff and there was no where for me to curl up for my mid morning snooze. So while he was out in the kitchen looking for a clean jug and making himself his second coffee of the morning (he is going to be so hyper later) I curled up on top of the two biggest heaps on the floor. Towels and sheets. I was a little lopsided but otherwise, after a bit of scratching around and rearranging, I was feeling quite comfortable on top. However on his return, he seemed a little less than enamoured with my choice of cushion for my snooze! I am now shut in the bootroom since you ask!
There are two special candles lit by the picture of his Mum who I never knew but clearly has a lot to answer for and seems to be in some way responsible so far today for his apparent melancholy. After two large mugs of tea and an equally large coffee he starts to fidget and this is the dangerous time coz you never know quite what scheme is beginning to hatch inside his mind. Suddenly he jumps up....... a plan has clearly formed! He goes out into the boot room and rummages around behind the fridge and drags out something covered in cobwebs and other dust. Something which clearly hasn't seen the light of day for quite a while. I think it is called an ironing board. His ironing and drying seems normally to comprise putting wet clothes in tumble dryer... taking dry clothes out of tumble dryer and throwing them into basket in a heap. Then each morning the said heap is rummaged around until he finds the least creased shirt and putting it on with a jacket or jumper quickly over the top so no-one knows he hasn't ironed it. Several shirts which had clearly been the most creased for quite a while were liberated from behind the tumble dryer, brushed down and put in a heap for ironing. The iron was also liberated from under the big heap of shirts that were too creased to wear and all were put to good use. The heap of neatly folded shirts and towels and other stuff was growing steadily as he tried to convince, um, well himself mainly, that this wouldn't take a moment to do. Oh how we laughed, as he squirted water out of his steam iron all over me as I curled up on the carpet until, perhaps unsurprisingly, it ran out of water. So he goes grumbling off out into the kitchen to find a jug to replenish the water. Now picture this, the dining room carpet is covered with little heaps of freshly ironed stuff and there was no where for me to curl up for my mid morning snooze. So while he was out in the kitchen looking for a clean jug and making himself his second coffee of the morning (he is going to be so hyper later) I curled up on top of the two biggest heaps on the floor. Towels and sheets. I was a little lopsided but otherwise, after a bit of scratching around and rearranging, I was feeling quite comfortable on top. However on his return, he seemed a little less than enamoured with my choice of cushion for my snooze! I am now shut in the bootroom since you ask!
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