Banjo on my Knee

None of the forecast snow yet; we wake up to beautiful clear skies and bright sunshine. That biting wind is still blowing, though. We get two walks today, one round the Rec to let off steam, and have a good run around with brown nondescript terrier (no offence!) Murphy and one, later to Challock Forest. In between the humans have a bit of a lazy morning reading the papers and what-not, and Dad scoots up to the allotment to give it one last tidy-up mow before winter really sets in.

Mum's off to the shops with Diamond in the "normal" car, so Dad and we dogs are 2CV-ing it to the forest. The leaves are all down - the chestnut, larch and even the beech are in stark skeleton form, and the forest floor is a blanket of the russets and browns of slightly soiled, bedraggled autumn leaves.

Here we meet and chase about with 6 month old black and white Staffie, Banjo. "Why Banjo?" asks Dad. Well, when he was a pup he used to like perching on my knee when ever I sat down, and "her indoors" called him Banjo on my Knee, and the name stuck. Fair enough.

It's a good walk, and now we're all crashing out in various corners of the house to sleep at each other.... Dad included

Deefer