Dambuster-ing

Tonight's write-up has several co-incidental links to the Dam Busters, but starts off with a repeat of me saying how totally mad these humans are. One of the highlights of the 2CV camp to which we have just been is the Saturday night joint barbecue and kazoo orchestra session.

The barbie is fabricated from an up-turned 2CV bonnet and a supermarket trolley and is big enough for plenty of humans to cook plenty of meat all at once. The humans also consume a degree of booze, but not too much and then adjourn to the marquee / party-tent for a mad session where everyone is given a kazoo to play (although this year there was an outbreak of learning to play ukuleles so there were a few of them). There are also various percussion instruments made out of bits of car (cymbals made of hub caps on a proper stand, bongoes from car headlight "pots", a drum kit made of rocker covers etc). Main man Andy produces a Guitaron, which is a big double-bass sized guitar with no frets, from Mexico.

The mad humans then work their way madly, raucously and loudly through cartoon themes (Top Cat etc), Muppet songs, pop songs and war themes as the light falls. Do they not realise our hearing is 40,000 times as sensitive as theirs? Mercy me!

I've already said that over at the Preston Steam Rally, half a dozen fields away at most, there was a fine display of old military kit and vehicles including 2 WW2 searchlights with tow/generator lorries. The Rally goes on till late on Saturday night after all the public have gone with a dinner and dance for the exhibitors, and once it's dark the searchlight crews light their lights and send their fine columns of light upward raking the sky for enemy aircraft. This they did just as we were doing the Dambusters Theme, so you can imagine all the humans ran outside and kazoo'd as loudly as they could, hoping to be heard at Preston.

The camp's 2CV convoy earlier had also been to the Reculver Towers, scene of much of Barnes-Wallis's testing of the bombs in wartime, so we were well Dam-Bustered up and it was a magic moment.

Darrr Dah Dah Dah Dudduddaahh Dah Dahhhhhh

Deefski

Sailing Orphans

When Mum was telling Diamond all about Dad going sailing on Friday, she referred to herself as a "Sailing Widow". On that basis we must be Sailing Orphans by now, as Dad is off sea-faring again. This time he blags his way on board SB Greta for her run from here round to Whitstable where she will (the Skipper hopes) be based right round to October enjoying a successful Summer of chartering.

Dad has to meet the barge at 09:00. They must shuffle ropes and un-bury themselves from behind SB Repertor before motoring gently down the creek to the Swale. It's a lovely warm sunny day with little breeze. That's OK with Dad because in these gentle conditions, Steve the owner-skipper trusts Dad with the helm as he and 1st Mate Rob hoist the topsail and drop a leeboard. Dad reckons he's about 8th Mate behind those two, various family members and the two dogs, Alfie and Ludo (who we've met).

Dad then gets to keep the helm all way down the Swale and Eastwards and then south (including a deliberate "dough-nut" allowing the topsail, which has to be on the starb'd side of the boat to be lowered, to get there with a southerly wind) till they are actually inside Whistable harbour mouth. With big solid walls looming and some jiggery pokery needed with an anchor dropped so that the barge can be swung round the anchor into the correct position for berthing port-side in (head to wind), Steve takes over, and Dad is only too happy to surrender the wheel!

All home safe and sound now - although Dad snuck off again to get some route directions for an upcoming 2CV convoy round Grove Ferry, Reculver and Sarre windmill.

It's all go round here (unless you're a dog!)

Deefski

A little bit of what you fancy

Over the last 2 days, it's been something for everyone. Yesterday Mum and Dad abandon us for a day trip to France, leaving us to the tender mercies of the Angel B and Uncle Jim. They head for a favourite restaurant (La Restaurant du Cygne) in St Omer

http://www.restaurantlecygne.fr/

which is only about 50 kms inland from Calais. It's very posh, they say, and you find it hard pushed not to sit back with a smug glow thinking "aren't we the badgers nadgers?". There is also time for a bit of shopping for the Christmas Calavados and treats. Yet again they manage to swing a clear skied day with little wind, so the channel is pretty close to mill pond smoothe, and Dad still hasn't seen Mum be sea-sick.

Mum warned Dad about 15 years ago that she was a terrible traveller and prone to turning green as soon as she left port, but in those 15 years, every sea crossing has somehow happened on a reasonable day, so Dad is half expecting Mum to finally admit "Ha ha! Only kidding!".

Because we get left behind on these trips, not having the required rabies jabs and paperwork, Haggis and I get a compensatory nice long walk at Reculver. Here you see us close to, on the beach, then far away on a distant mussel-bedecked mud bank with the towers in the distance, and also some of the hundreds of brent geese over-wintering at Reculver. A girl can put up quite a honking clamour of geese if she runs at a flock fast enough, and none of them turn on me as did those domestic geese up by the narrow boating canal!

Finally, Mum takes Meggie off for a quiet stroll in the Rec, smuggling her out the front of the house while dad distracts us with a bout of greenhouse cleaning. 2 times round the tennis couts apparently and not a blade of grass un-sniffed. So - everyone's happy, and now it's the start of the weekend.

Look after yourselves

Deefski

...and After

Here we all are again - and look at us now! We are sparkly white, silky, fragrant and clipped to within an inch of our lives. Everyone says we look beautiful and The Groomer, we know, is delighted with the results. We are not so sure - of course, you know that a Westie's natural condition is kind of beige with muck and gruft, and redolent of squirrel sh**e, but we always know we can get back to that some day, and it makes the humans happy.

You have, in order, my head, on the frozen Rec', Megan's head, reclining on a brown cushion at the Groomer's (and the Guitarist's) house, where we all had supper last night), the three of us (l-r Meggie, me and the H) on the Groomer's sofa, with one of their Norfolks, (our friend Mollie) completing the line-up. Then, finally, there's the H, also stretched out on the furniture.

That frozen walk on the Rec in the morning was just to give Megan a breath of fresh air. With Haggis clipped off, Mum was worried to note that his usual skinny frame and definite waist and "cut" behind the ribs, seems to have submerged under a slightly portly layer of fat. In short, she described him as a bit of a porker. Nothing for it, then but to push on with these planned "leave Meggie behind" walks. So today we are loaded in to car and buzzed off to Reculver, for one of Dad's route-marches. Haggis feels much better for that, thanks - he's now asleep. The frozen ground is good for keeping westies clean, but the wind don't 'alf cut through your clipped fur!

Brrrrr

Deefer

Something borrowed

The big black and white Great Dane we'd seen out with Gigot and family turns ourt to be a "borrow" with Gigot's owner looking after him for her own Father. He is, apparently, very "naughty" and had to be kept on the lead. That reminds me, "Long John" with the two Danes, "Rudolph" and "Valentine" which Haggis knew from pup-dom, has not been seen out in ages. We knew they were getting on a bit, and Danes never live to a great age, so with Haggis now 12, we all assume they have gone the way....

Yesterday we are given a treat - a walk at Reculver

http://www.bestloved.com/attractions/reculver-towers-and-roman-fort-in-reculver-kent-the-south-england-uk.php

The towers at Reculver were, as "any fule know" used for practise line-ups in bombing runs by the Dambuster squadrons when the Barnes Wallis bouncing bombs were being developed in the war (cue theme music). There are now interpretive signs in the carpark, to prove it !

Tonight we are on "soul food" - bangers, bacon, eggs and beans. Dad has allegedly had a bitch of a week, which is now shaping up to be a doozie of a weekend as he's on call. There's been a fire in the Channel Tunnel, "Operation Stack" has been invoked and traffic chaos in Kent is the order of the day. Basically, no-one can get across the channel using that route, so all the backed up HGV's are stacked in the lanes of the M20. We're all used to it - it's probably a monthly occurrence at least, at this stage - if it's not fierce storms, or French customs men, it's French farmers blockading the ports or something like this fire.

Deep joy

Deefski

Walked off our Feet

Bitter North wind today, but where it's been wintry-showering, Dad opts for Reculver rather than the sheltered-from-the-wind Forest because Reculver is not muddy. When we leave it's not showering - in fact it's quite bright and hazy sunny. We clamber over the mound where the church ruin is, then head southeast up behind the oyster farm to the railway tracks, to complete the "full circuit".

That's about Meggie's limit these days. When M+H were young this was about an hour at Dad's route-march pace, but now Meggie rolls along at her rolling gait happliy enough for the inland loop, but starts to slow as we rejoin the concrete sea-wall, breaking now and then into a slow walk, while she recovers. Dad slows down of course, and we amble home, in this case into the teeth of the gale. It's about an hour 45 mins now, which is about Meg's lot.

Well, I say "amble" - Dad and Megan "amble". For me and Haggis it's more of an "average speed = amble" thing. We are actually racing ahead, then behind, then ahead again, then I attack him for a playful bounce every now and then. Later in the walk, Haggis also slows to an actual amble, and I am left racing about, leppin' on and off walls, down onto the beach and back up, orbitting around the slow-moving (ambling) group of old gits.

This way we all get our fill of exercise, and by the time we get back to the car out of the wind, we are all done in. Walked off our feet. We have sufficient energy to make a fuss of very elegant Weimeraner, Arthur , in that beautiful mousey ghost-grey they have ("I didn't name him that", says the man, apologetically, "that was 'the wife' ". We think it's a very good name for a handsome boy), but fall asleep as soon as we hit the car seats. We hope Dad has sufficient energy to drive home without falling asleep.

Deefer

Mackerel Sky

Dad gets off work nice and early today, so we have time for a nice walk along Reculver. It's been raining but now it's dry and a stiff South Westerly is starting to break up the lower level of grey clouds. Through gaps you can see the most gorgeous mackerel sky - all luminous peachy pinks and pale blues, lit from beneath by the low sun setting out of sight behind the lower clouds over Bishopstone.

We walk along with a King Charles Spaniel called Alfie (no relation to barge-dog Alfie) and a mongrelly brown lady called Ellie (no relation to my Sis'). A bit of Ridgeback in her, we think, going by the darker stripe of hair along her spine, but she's more of a collie sized girl, and as fast, we'd say.

The wind being in the SW is coming off the shore, off the oyster farm making us all streamlined when we are gazing inland. Dad smiles to note that when I jump up on the inland wall I keep my back feet on the proper walkway. Is that the wind, or am I remembering my dive over the precipice last time?

Up on the walkway / seawall, we keep coming across broken dead sea shells, we guess dropped by gulls who are breaking them open to get at the whelks and other molluscs, and leaving occasional smears of dead whelk on the concrete. We ladies have already rolled nicely in some decomposing bladder-wrack on the shingle, but now we can have a good neck-rub on these smears of smelly sea snail.

It's only we two ladies, Megan and I. We get right down, necks on the ground and bums in the air, then roll over and writhe about against the (invisible) smears to a band playing. Often we are like a formation team, synchronised diving and rolling. Haggis does not indulge - perhaps rotting whelk is not a manly scent for a dog. He stands bemused. He loves a roll on the Rec grass or in frost, but never has done this scenting thing with corpses, fox poo and other fragrances.

Mmmm... Essence de Dead Whelk!
Have a great weekend
Deefer

Birchington

Needing an afternoon walk, as well as needing (according to Dad) a blast in the 2CV to warm her up and dry her out, we decide to head for Birchington, on the North Kent coast, out beyond Reculver. It's one half of the town-twinning ( the other being La Chapelle d'Armentieres) which has thrown up the "gift 2CV", which Dad and his cronies are currently restoring, so we were curious as to what Birchington was about - never having been there.

It's a very pleasant little seaside town with excellent dog-walking possibilities. Most of it is a-top a 20 foot chalk cliff, which has a huge grassy dog-walk lawns running right to the edge. Down from this to the low promenade, near sea level, are steps and concrete ramps for boat-trailers, and this prom has a lovely flat edge a dog can crane her neck over to see the waves lapping 3 feet below.

There are steps down, too, so maybe there's some beach visible at low tide (?) and the boat launch slipways are also explore-able by dogs, who can nip down bravely and then scurry back up as a wave comes. Unless you are Meggie, in which case you stand there with a look of bliss on your face, as the waves gently lap around your toes, and splash under your belly!

On a clear day like today, when the air is like crystal, from the cliff top you can see right back to the Reculver Towers, the only "lump" between us being the intriguingly named Plum Pudding Island

Home for the raw spine out of a chook (which is now spatch-cocked) and then a relax in front of the fire, waiting the return of Mum and Diamond, who along with John) is round for supper tonight.

Deefs

Jacko and Ozzie

Freezing fog tonight, so now we're back indoors in the warm of the coal fire, a few more pics of Reculver to remind ourselves of that lovely sunny day a short while back. Megan having a paddle and showing off her fruit-bat ears, Reculver towers (as used in the film "Dambusters" because Reculver is where Barnes Wallis tried out and demo'd his famous bouncing bomb, the planes lining up on the towers as practise for the dam raids), and some of the over-wintering Brent geese that this area is famous for.

With me in my current ...um... hormonal state we avoid the Rec on our walk, and take ourselves off through the fog, round the back paths to the allotments. Here we meet up with allotments boss "Sand" out walking with her Jack Russell "Meadow". Sand also has a red Patterdale called Fern, which is sister and litter mate to Diamond's "Rags" (aka Asbo). Complicated innit?

We are all standing chatting when frequent allotments dog walker lady (sorry, don't know her name.... why do humans have no problem conversing with all these other humans about and around dogs, talking to the dogs and learning the dog's name, but never quite pluck up the courage to ask the other human their name? You end up with dog walkers trying to describe who they've met with expressions like "... Ah you know.... Sams' Mum!...") comes through with Jack Russel Jacko and Patterdale Ozzie.

These are superb fit dogs. The JR is one of those superfit bouncy ones who can spring up from their hind legs to (human) chest-height. The Patterdale is a chunky stocky chap, looking more like a Staffie in build. Both Rags and Fern are much more "rangey" by comparison - a good 4-6 inches taller, longer and lighter built. I have not seen a pedigree Patterdale, so I have no idea what the correct standard is, but rags/Fern and Ozzie are almost 2 different breeds!

Ah well. Nuff for now. Dad is mellowing out on Shep's Christmas Ale

...and Ellie's mum has apparently bought herself some new specs....

Deefers

The North Wind Shall Blow

...and we shall (maybe) have snow. Brrrr - it's turned really cold and we're all glad Dad leaves us fairly shaggy at this time of year.

Some more pics of Reculver yesterday and a nice artistic one of the Christmas Tree taken without flash

There's a story attached to the one of me, head and shoulders. You can't see it but I'm up on a low wall on the landward side of the sea-wall, where H and I kept hopping up to look inland, scouring the reed beds for prey animals (we being steely eyed hunter-killers an' all). Along near the Oyster farm the wall is only 6 inches tall from the sea-wall side, but the drop down to landward is a good 5 feet, onto a 45 degree downsloping "buttress" bit.

I was hop-skipping along here without a care in the world, when I hop-skipped a bit too carelessly. There was a skittering scritch of claws on wall, and my front legs went over. Dad watched in horror as in slow motion I scrabbled to reverse, then seemed to have succeeded but was still off balance. I did a little slow motion dance trying out various limbs on the edge and various limbs in thin air, but my body was slowly moving over the precipice. After what seemed like ages, but was only a few seconds, I gave in to the inevitable, dropped my nose and leapt, 5 feet down and 3 feet out, as Dad gasped "Noooooooo!!!".

But I landed perfectly and ran on down the 45 degree buttress, stopping eventually and turning to Dad with a look that said "Didn't hurt! You see - I meant to do that!"

Paratroop forward rolls next

Deefs

Reculver in December Sun

You might be able to tell from these shots (compared to any from a few days ago) that we have been shampoo'd again. Megan got us in trouble this time - she's a devil for wading through puddles, and the puddles around the boat yard can be particularly feeeeelthy - spilt oil and old stagnant mud being 2 key ingredients.

Partly for that reason we got our proper walk this morning at Reculver - the theory being that even we cannot get muddy and disgusting at Reculver - the sea water washes itself off and any "mud" is just sand and beach really, so it falls off as we dry on the way back along the sea wall.

So, here we all are - first me bouncing around on the grass up by the tower, then a cracking close up of Haggis (we were actually walking back along the sea wall and a croaking noise inland in the oyster farm attracted our attention, so H is looking in land and the sun just caught him nicely). Double click the pic and get it up to full screen - it is crisp and clear around the eyes and nose perfect!

Finally, there's good old Megan under full sail, with her long "skirts" reaching the ground, and dazzling white, powering across the lawns and knocking all those lies about her slowing down and relaxing gracefully into old age into the long grass. Not this morning, she wasn't. Spronging about like a young lamb, she was!


More pics tomorrow - we took loads!

Deefs

Woof, woof, Woof, WOOF, WOOF!

Woof, woof, Woof, WOOF, WOOF! - Haggis repelling all boarders of a fireworky nature, attempting to enter our air-space. The Nerve! How dare they!? He races outside and shouts them into submission. Megan joins him sometimes for a half-hearted "Ruff" but there's not much passion there. Me, I tend to protect the rear flank from a strategic position on Dad's lap.

Lovely walk round Reculver this morning. Mum had the "proper car", so we were in the 2CV. It was a lovely warm sunny morning with a gentle breeze blowing, so we did our whole usual loop. From Reculver towers we head Eastwards onto the sea wall, but cut inland (south) "behind" the oyster farm, and along the raised bank to the railway line. Then we head east along the railway till we meet a crossing point plus a north-south path that takes us back to the seawall just where there are some lagoons. Here we drop down onto the beach for a bit of a paddle, before heading back westwards to the towers and the carpark.

We meet a very handsome, newly clipped westie boy called Finlay, plus a "grumpy old git" (the owners words) spaniel who has to stay muzzled and on the lead. The explanation for his (Finlay's) name involved him coming from Romford but we didn't catch that. Perhaps there is a place called Finlay in Essex?

In the afternoon, I've been helping Dad shred all the apple, vibernum, quince and plum clippings. My help seems to involve mainly watching the output chute end to see if anything exciting, or edible should emerge. I promise you, it doesn't, but it's better than being stuck indoors.

Deefer

2CV to Reculver

Another gorgeous sunny blue skies day, but with a breeze getting up. Everyone is talking like this could be the end of the hot spell that luckliy saw us all through our boating in Yorkshire. Especially at the allotments, where Dad is lifting spuds this afternoon (some very nice Desiree) and everyone passing is saying things like "Yes - I need to get mine dug too before it rains....."

Dad fires up the 2CV. Poor "Clara" has been feeling a bit left out lately. While we've had the new car plus the old (company car) Picasso, the drive's been a bit loaded down, and the poor 2CV, at the back, is always the most blocked in and hardest to dig out, so she's got a bit neglected since August. Now, though, the Picasso is gone and we are back to a sensible number of vehicles.

We have a blast out to Reculver, where the tide is far far out, so we dogs can scramble down onto the beach and have a chase about among the sand bars and cockle beds, racing through the shallow water and getting soaked by kicked up spray. In Megan's case, this is not so much chasing about as trotting along contentedly behind the rest of us, but all three dogs get well soaked in sea water up to their plimsoll lines.

We look manky, but Dad thoroughly approves - he knows that the sea water is great for getting rid of old mud and canal water, and that once we've dried off in the sun and wind on our walk back to the car along Reculver's sea wall, we will be whiter than white among the "furnishings". A quick brush out back home, and it'll be better than if we'd all had a shampoo. And all nicely in time for my Birthday (did I mention that? - It's tomorrow. I am 1 Year Old)

:-))
Deefer

Dirty dancing

A long gap since we last posted. We have had company - a visit from the 16 year old niece from Swindon, up here for her birthday treat over the weekend. Not too much entertainment for dogs then , just "human stuff" that mainly involves us being given a treat and told to be "good dogs" as the humans depart.

Friday saw Mum, Diamond and Neice heading for the local shops, then Mum, Dad and Neice heading for London to see "Dirty Dancing". That was a late one. Luckily the Angel betty and Jim came round mid point to let us out - the dirty stop-outs were not back till 2 am! Some old excuse about the Aldwych being evacuated for a fire alarm, and engineering works on the railway this side of Sittingbourne

Beyond that there's been lots of sitting around on the terrace now that Summer is finally here, a bit of shopping in Canterbury, and a decent walk along Reculver. Neice doesn't really do dogs, but she copes and goes along with this family where dogs are probably centre of attention! I have failed so far to completely seduce her with my undeniable charm and cuteness. Puzzling......

Back to proper transmission soon. Neice's Dad is coming to collect her again lunchtime today. It's been a gas

Deefs

Stormy Reculver

We 2CV it (rather bravely, I thought!) to Reculver, where-at the waves are smashing white spray in across the car park, and the wind is blowing beigey coloured foam up the beach, to build up in the lee of shingle banks till gusts whip it up over the top of the sea wall, and the dog-walkers, like a blizzard. I know we are meant to be hardy Scottish Highland dogs but come on, fair's fair! Still -we avoid the rain , managing to squeeze our hour and a half in between two concerted efforts at rain.

Mum and Dad have been missing the garden's regular 2006 sparrow-hawk, who'd zoom in across the waste ground behind the house, hedge-hopping over the fence or the beech and exploding among the feeding sparrows or starlings, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. She'd (it's a female one) then pause briefly in the tall Paulownia (Foxglove tree) (or once on the bird feeder!) looking for all the world as if she was saying "Curses! Foiled again!", before whipping away back to the trees across the waste ground. You'd know if there'd been a successful kill while we were out, as there'd be the tell tale "remains", a 2-3 foot diameter circle of plucked feathers and just the beak and forehead skull-bone of the victim. They don't waste much!

But since the building works had started, the ground cleared and the diggers moving about, we'd not seen her, so we guessed the new activity didn't suit her, and she'd moved on. But now she's back, and yesterday we spotted her resting in the Paulownia again, before scything off through the sheeting rain. Magnificent.

By the way. Mum has bought a new head for the toothbrush, so I'm hoping I'm forgiven.

Have a good Bank Holiday

Deefer

Wet through again

Off to reculver this morning, but the forecast had said showers with sunshine, and all we got was 10/10 cloud and cold February rain. We arrived, paid for our car parking, then sat listening to the rain drumming off the car roof, swooshing the wind screen clear every now and then with the wipers, looking out to sea, like proper British tourists, and waiting for the rain to stop.

It eased, we walked, and then it returned in earnest and we got thoroughly soaked. Dad texted back to Mum to have warm dog-towels ready (again), for when we arived with warm bread and croissants from the farm shop

I met two lovely children today, James and Eve, grand children of the neighbours. They both wanted to make a fuss of us, pick us up and stroke us. Eve, though, did not believe that I do this blog - she thinks someone else types it in for me. Dog's can't type, she says. That's her purple skirt and pink fleece I'm sitting on in the first picture. The other is of a very typical Megan pose - looking out of the door. She likes to have her bum in the warm and her nose in the cold. That's till she get's shouted at by either Mum or Dad "Come on Meggie - make your mind up! Either in or out!"

See you again soon, Eve and James

Deefs

Reculver again, with Asbo

The wind has turned a bit chillier, and the forecast is for Winter to finally arrive, but this morning it's sunny and breezy, so we head for Reculver once more. Here are the three of us in the 2CV again. Dad drove. Mum took off in the other car to collect Diamond, and the Lakeland terrier, Asbo. Not his real name - his real name is Ragworth (and that's another story. Get me to tell it one time). This time we (successfully) all met up at Reculver and went for a good ol' chase along the sea wall and down along the beach.

I've got more used to Asbo, now, so I'm not such a screaming drama queen when he passes within a few feet. I still cringe a little, but spent most of the walk actually chasing him around, my curiosity getting the better of me. Dad says he looks forward to the day we can play properly together. Asbo is young and fit, so it'll take some of the pressure off poor old Haggis (9) who sometimes gets to look a bit persecuted when I won't leave him alone

In the pic of all the dogs together, H is left, Rags centre, Me right and Megs bringing up the rear (as normal). Rags spends a lot of any walk running round checking that everyone is there. Diamond says he's such a ditz, he whizzes round counting to 3 dogs, then forgets and has to go back and check, then forgets again and has to check again, then forgets.... you get the picture. He's the same. apparently when Diamond is out with her three young neices, racing round making sure all 3 are present and correct

Have a good week

Deefer

Who you callin' "Gobby"?

Wow! For January 14th, amazing warm breezes, clear blue skies, sunshine. We arrange to meet Auntie Diamond and ASBO at reculver at 10 o'clock. That is, WE think we're meeting them at 10. They think we're picking them up from their front door at 10 to give them a lift to Reculver. 3 Humans and 4 dogs in a car (especially with 2 of them being Asbo and me), now that WOULD have been interesting! Ah well, we all got good walks, just not together.

For some reason I was in one this morning and decided to shout at a couple of people, in an attempt to preserve the westie's reputation for being "yappy dogs". Mum and Dad had other ideas. They prefer preserving the westie's reputation for being calm, well socialised dogs who don't yap and don't bark at anyone (see smug Megan and Haggis for details). Even so I had a try

One was an angler wheeling a great trolley of fishing gear and lugging umpteen fishing rods over his shoulder. No problem when he was behind us catching us up, or indeed as he overtook. It was when he was about 10 yards in front (safe distance?) I suddenly started shouting at him. Even when I was shut up I still wuffed and chuffed as we climbed onto the sea-wall and he dived into the bullrushes to find his fishing position, 100 yards away

A little later we came a cross 2 guys in hi-vis jackets, by a car, apparently waiting to marshall a 400-person run along the sea wall from Minnis Bay to Reculver. The one by the car was OK, but this other guy stood 30 yards off suddenly looked dangerous to me so I had a shout at him too. I got shut up, and stomped off huffing and gruffing, then looked across the sea wall at the other guy, who smiled and said "Yeah? What's up with you, Gobby?". Mum and Dad cracked up laughing. Gobby? I ask you. Dad said, "If the cap fits....."

Gobby

Exotic smells, evocative smells and ASBO's

Happy New Year. Mum and Dad came home from the restaurant smelling of all sorts of exotic foods - stuff you'd only read about in Africa geography books - they'd been to a "Taste of Africa" night, where-at the owner and staff were all dressed in trad African gear, and the food was stuff like well spiced veg dishes, cassava, yam, rice dumplings, dried catfish - various offal-y stuff like gizzards and tripe, and either goat or lamb.

Mum and Dad were buzzing with the deliciousness of it all, and still hyper from the traditional dance/drum music. I'm tempted to post my first link, just in case you want to go see, but I need to check the web address first. Everyone, incuding "Auntie Diamond" came back to our house for a few drinks till the midnight hour, to help us through the fireworks!

While we're on evocative smells, while we were in Ireland, Dad loaded onto the car a big bag of proper peat "sods", traditional fuel when coal was hard to come by. Tonight we have a real fire in the grate (first one this year - it's been so mild), and we are wafting evocative peat-turf-fire smells across the street from our chimney

And I finally got to meet Diamond's dog "ASBO" (actually Ragworth). He is a young (2) Lakeland / Patterdale terrier in black and tan, given to wispy hair on his ears and Denis Healey eyebrows. Not used to small (cough) vulnerable dogs to play with he can be a bit rough, so we all arranged a meeting back on the beach in Reculver, as neutral territory.

Scary - he piled straight in bowling me over and making me scream like a stuck pig. So we were separated while he ran off some energy, then allowed back together in a bit more of a controlled way. Anyway - suffice to say that by the end of the walk we were getting on much better (me only squeaking a little bit when he charged too close, and him not actually beating me up), so everyone thinks it was reasonably successful and worth keeping going. By the end of the walk I was actually letting curiosity get the better of me and chasing him about (from a distance)

An interesting start to the year

Get well soon, Archie

Deefer

B-B-Blustery Day

Yoiks - what happened to the weather? Dad had to work this morning (but I'm told it's just a ploy to get out of having to work tomorrow morning!), but once he was home he loaded us all into the car and we headed for Reculver. What a great place that is for dogs! A quick grassy hill with an old church ruin on top, then miles and miles of sea wall and beach.

Dad decided I was ready for a longer walk now, so we did what he calls the inland-railway circuit. From the towers, head East, but before the oyster farm, head inland and follow the bank to the railway line. then east along the path parallel to the railway for half a mile or so, before cutting north up a hard track to the beach. back along the beach. Takes about an hour and a half allowing for Meggie's slightly more stately pace these days. The railway bit gives Haggis a chance to indulge his "racing alongside the train" stuff. Train usually wins on speed but H is magnificent, and sees it off with a finishing barking/bouncing session at the end of the sprint!

But what a wind! Howling across from the southwest (inland) and blowing out to sea, it had all us westies looking like we were wearing ruffs if we ran with the wind, and looking like jack russells if we faced into it! We met 2 dogs definitely dressed for it though - genuine Huskies, blue eyes an' all. Loping along with a guy on a push bike. Dad joked with the guy that he needed snow and a sledge, and the guy only turned out to be a keen husky racer, land sleds mainly (due to lack of snow), but hoping to try these 2 dogs out with a real sled weather permitting!

Happy New Year
Mum and Dad off out tonight but promised to return before all the fireworks kick off. We need to get out there and SHOUT at those beggars! The nerve! In OUR air-space, too!

Deefer