unfortunately the only muscles exercised
were my chuckle muscles.
As we manfully...
POWER CRAWLED *
'When I was in London last week I was looking for a present for you?'
My ears were never more pricked, as visions of
Do Manolo Blahnik do Broad, I idly wondered?
Rigby and Peller
Fortnum and Mason (birthday picnic hamper - full of course!)
A battery for my
mobile breeze-block phone...
being dug up any day now in a peat bog near you.
'I wasn't going to wrap it up for you!'
Look, I know I'm a rather (very)
selfish lump of a lass,
with a 'sort-of' special birthday coming up
for this I was not prepared.
I never thought my drawers would dry.
Miss Tena... now I know!
With every step, I chortled; the more I thought about it
the more I belly laughed.
Tears ran... yes tears?
* For those that don't know us, we have a very elderly dog (Lettice) who in her own funny way totally and utterly controls our lives. Our walks have got slower and shorter.
Her nose and opposite end don't seem affected by her ancient frame. Every blade of grass is sniffed, double sniffed and sniffed again, just to be sure that the message she was receiving was the right info. Bit like doggy blogging. She widdles (I've written about this before) and deposits Walnut Whips (remember those?) for Ted to collect. Surely his collection must be completed now, she must wonder when in reflective mood. Disgusted looks are fired in his direction as he lobs the offending packages over our garden gate. Which in case you're wondering is locked. We have walked out of the front door and down the drive (read rough track) up the hill and along the back alley, (if you'll pardon the expression) which runs along the perimeter of our garden. 'Why don't you go out of the back gate' if you're still with me I hear you thinking? Well the way out is too rough for Lettice to negotiate.
The question is do we tell them it's our garden or let them think we are the Gilbert and George of the doggy-do world? Our artwork hanging in the trees for all to see.