Pictured here are boat yard mates Dylan (black collie-cross) and Dottie (red and white JR) scrounging food at the door of Dad's Swedish mate, Jan's motorhome.
Meanwhile, Dad is idly chatting with colleague and Night Shift Manager Shane about the possible need in the future for a chum for me as the H approaches the Autumn of his years. Shane mentions a charity with which his Good Lady is involved (volunteering), called the Cinnamon Trust whose mission in life is to help out with pets when their owners pass away, or become terminally ill, or are victim to some change of circumstances which preclude them keeping their pet (divorce, housing etc).
Dad gets in touch with these good people and has now heard back from a Lady we will call Moira who may or may not have a possible 'terrier sized' "friend" for me, called Daisy. The Cinnamon Trust, naturally, need to vet this house to see if we and our circumstances are fit to receive such a dog, so we guess we will get a visit and Haggis and I will be instructed to be on our best behaviour, and not allowed to eat the visitor. More on this when we know more ourselves.
It's all a bit traumatic round here anyway as Dad's work is going through what the Chinese would call 'interesting times' and there is talk of a possible sell up and move to Ireland, maybe to near where the Silverwoods are. Mum and Dad are poring over the figures, trying to get a handle on what the assets are worth and the debts, what comes due when and all that jazz. I may end up having to sell my body round the back of the Railway Station, but so far it's only the precious 2CV that's been "estimated".
Watch this space
Deefski
1 comment:
You had Mrs S looking at property all around us last night after that comment, you wold be amazed by the amount there is.
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