I swear he must have swallowed a sofa last night…he looks HUGE this morning! 11.6 weeks of muscle in a fur gilet. Not quite sure whose lap he’ll fit on to at next get together; maybe we’ll see if Tyson Fury is free. Must also remind everyone that Golden H’s colour is the new black. All we need is a spinning wheel and someone who knows what they’re doing and we’ll be in business with Retriever handbags, cushion covers and fur throws!
Maybe yesterday increased his appetite. I’m sure he licked his lips when the new arrivals appeared. Actually, thinking about it, it was lunchtime. White, black, brown and fittingly, a distinctive Golden Hurricane colour that promises blue eggs( now there’s a scrambled egg on toast breakfast I definitely don’t fancy). I think he realised from the off that there’s fun to be had with these squeaky ‘toys’. We had hoped to have them free roaming and free ranging…re-think in order urgently. The’re definitely confined to barracks for now at least.
Learned a new fact last night on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?
Q.What is the offspring of a donkey and a female horse called?
A. A mule. (I always thought a mule was a dumb horse. Admittedly, i’d never thought about it at length or wondered who had provided the questionnaire to the horses to see who had the highest IQ .)
Anyway, made me wonder if Golden H’s mum was actually a horse and that’s why he’s already got the legs of a thoroughbred filly..he’s struggling to get himself fully on bottom stair now. Going to have to find himself a new comfy shlomping ground where he can keep his feeding bowl in full site.
So after all the excitement and the razzamatazz, it’s finally over; the glam, the bling, the illuminations, all done and dusted. No, not the Golden Globes, Christmas. And unlike Ricky Gervais offending everyone, ours went without a hitch and we all still like each other.
So, Twelfth Night.. there’s a conundrum, is it the 5th or the 6th? (Is a Jaffa a biscuit or a cake?). I always defer to what suits best and yesterday being a Sunday became 12th Night at the homestead. All away for another year…. tired, worn and dusty and that just us two! Who wouldn’t love the apres festive treatment the decs get. Lovingly handled and packaged gently away to fight another season while they gain vintage status and bank another year of priceless memories. Perhaps i’ll reincarnate as a Christmas bauble.
Loving Christmas has been handed down to us. And much as i love the tradition and pageant of it all, even I could see this year that buying a tree; a gorgeous living monument to life, growing daily in stature and majesty only to be redirected to the compost heap ( after an hour with a petite redhead with sharp loppers and more muscle power than she’d realised) exactly a month to the day later seems an inordinate travesty. There are of course worse places than a compost heap for it to end up in and for my conscience, i shall hold that thought for now…
So what will 2020 bring? No babes on the horizon…yet. A wedding in the Med to look forward to next year, numerous birthdays and a ceremony or two with Fr Peter as MC; always entertaining (unless you’re a child being reminded AGAIN to tidy your bedroom!) But beyond that, its more of the same for us. Spring will follow frost and snowflakes, (according to Rachel on Virgin Radio and there’s something about the soft Irish twang that makes you believe it). We’ll grow chillies and garlic and onions and enough courgettes to put a smile on Bob Geldof’s face. We’ll experiment with new stuff and forget about what went wrong last year. New Year brings new promise, new opportunities and a reminder that although it’s more of the same, how we approach it is up to us. We are looking forward to watching The Golden One grow (!) in confidence and elegance with less penchant for chewing hair and nibbling toes. Hopefully he’ll develop a passion, much like us, for a decent night of uninterrupted sleep! I’ve already forgotten that we contemplated getting another later in year…maybe later in another year….. or even when I’m a Christmas bauble…. I loved those snakeskin mules.
Have you seen my Crocs? 