Savoy dreams

And just like that he was turned from hairy beast into smart dog.

The littlest boy has memorised the passage in Plumdog where Plum goes to the hairdressers. She says, I felt like a filmstar. Bert does too.

Do you need a reminder of the Before look?

Oh he was wild and woolly. Now he is like a whole dog made of velvet. And he can see out!

We can't stop looking at him. And he is faster too. No longer at the park does he canter a feeble six feet after a ball before giving up and letting the big dogs get it. He's in the game, sprinting after it like Usain Bolt.

I made omelette Arnold Bennett for tea for the non-vegetarians (ie. all of the people except me). Well, not quite, it was actually an ordinary omelette with smoked haddock in it. The real thing is a bit fancier with all sorts of fluffy sauce and grated Gruyere, but being short on time etc. etc.

I looked up the recipe first and discovered that it was created for AB while he was living at the Savoy. Can you imagine it? Honestly, there would be absolutely nothing to do ever in the way of chores. Not a single dish to be washed or a shelf to be dusted or carpet to be vacuumed. Imagine all the time! I too could write a novel in such circumstances, I am certain of it. Especially if I was being fed dishes especially created for me by top chefs. Nut Roast Above The River perhaps, or Noodles CJ. I am very fond of noodles.

Oh, but they would never manage without me. Who would get cross about the mud and operate the washing machine and the vacuum? No-one else knows how to do it. No, I fear I am utterly indispensable. The Savoy will have to wait. I will make do with a cheese omelette made by myself and the odd half hour of writing time at the dining table. I hear that the Savoy omelette-fuelled novel wasn't his best work any way. A little suffering is a good thing no?

Plumdog and bear dog

There's a lot going on here, and none of it is photogenic. In fact some of it is downright ugly. My latest technological difficulties for example. A whole email disaster that has taken hours of red level fury and hammering away at the laptop and more fury at the wasted hours and the impossibility of it all. It always amazes me how technology can push me to the absolute edge.

I had the luxury of a whole mud-free day on Sunday. I was the teeniest bit tired of trudging around the locale with the dog and looking at endless brown. Which is unusual for me, I do love the winter, I'm not sure why it happened. Anyway, I went to (indoor) cricket training in the morning (littlest boy, not me) and then I took him to the mall in the afternoon to buy a copy of the Beano and to have a drink and a piece of cake. It's not something we do often, but I thought it would be a nice non-mud treat; he's been very good with the winter dog walking. Anyway, I'm happy to report that a couple of hours of looking at the bright plastic things from China and the endless rubbish for sale I was completely cured of mud ennui. My settings were reset. The next day the walk by the stream was quite blissful.

The biggest boy has just finished a week of exams. He was walking to school one morning and a bird pooped all down his coat. He asked me if I could clean it. 'It's alright though, I got most of it off. I used a revision worksheet.'  He said it was okay, he knew most of it already. So long as he's taking it all properly seriously.

In other news, I found someone had got the nailbrush out in the bathroom the other day and used it without being asked. For one heady moment I thought, my work here is done.

The littlest boy, and the others and me as well in fact, have all been enjoying Plumdog by Emma Chichester Clark. It was a gift from Father Christmas and is absolutely brilliant. Our very own Plumdog is off to the dog barber on Monday for a deep trim. I have tried to capture his very hairiness for posterity in the meantime. He is scruffy little hippy at the moment. People often tell me he looks like a bear. From Monday he will be more rat than bear I fear.

At least he'll be able to see where he's going though.

Wishing all a good weekend. I have no end of mud lined up and I am very happy about it, as is the little brown dog. I shall be back anon with before and after photos. Brace yourselves.

Conquering the world next week

Messing about by the river. Don't be fooled by the sun, it was absolutely arctic out there, with a wind blowing straight in from Siberia. The littlest boy and I blasted along to the end and got blown all the way back again. Then it was home, sofa, hot water bottle. Utter bliss.

I've had a sort of flu thing for around 10 days now, and I can't seem to shake it. Nothing dramatic, just a complete lack of energy. Temperatures, headaches, that sort of thing. The boys had it over the Christmas holidays too. I've not really accomplished anything since, which is disappointing because this was the year I was going to conquer the world. I shall start next week instead, surely I'll be back at full strength by then. In the meantime I shall be sat at my laptop, clutching a hot water bottle with my head on a cushion on the table. It's a kind of 'just about to start work' position, where I'm best placed in case I suddenly feel able to string together some words.

Who still has mince pies left? We do. Plus a jar of last year's mincemeat, which I should have used first but which has inexplicably been left until last. Also one or two dark chocolate covered stollen (oh my) and some lebkuchen. Other than that we're back on ordinary fare. The biggest boy made fishcakes at school today, but only one small one made it home, so tea was a last-minute affair with eggs instead. I remember being constantly hungry at that age although I don't think I'd have dared to eat the things I made in cookery before I got them home.

The dog had a sticky eye last week. I took him to the vets' where they gave him a tube of ointment. It's almost impossible to get ointment into a dog's eye. On a par with giving antibiotics to a guinea pig I'd say. But his eye cleared up almost immediately anyway. And I am 51 of your English pounds worse off. FIFTY-ONE POUNDS! Next time I shall slather it in manuka honey first. Even at twenty-odd pounds a jar we'd be quids in. And I could eat the rest and regain my strength ready to conquer the world etc.

I hope everyone else is having a more full-on start to the year. If not, manuka honey. You read it here first.

Sleeping with one eye open

All the usual December things done. Country walks, windows and wreaths admired, mince pies eaten, holes dug, beaches galloped along at sunset. On Boxing Day we went to look at the hunt, which always likes to trot three times around the town before cantering off across country not hunting foxes, at least that's the theory.

We felt a bit like serfs going to look at the rich posh people having fun. I was impressed with the lady riding side saddle though. She'd obviously taken trouble over her appearance and sidesaddle is a tricky thing.

I bought a dog bag just before Christmas. The theory is that you zip your wet, muddy dog into it and some time later he emerges, dry and completely clean. I am a great fan of a little magic. I know you'll want to see it in action.

You will note how I've flapped his ear up, all the better to air it out nicely. We rather spoilt it all for him today I fear. His magnificent fringe has pretty much covered up his eyes although I've tried to trim it several times with the special Facial Hair Dog Trimming Scissors. He always sees me coming, but it was getting ridiculous (no clear line of sight!) so today the biggest boy and I slid in while he was dozing a got in one half snip before he clocked us.

Zipped into his bag he wasn't in the best position to escape. I put the tiny little pile of hair next to him in the hopes of getting in for another go (I had missed most of the bit actually blocking his sight). He laid there, staring in disbelief at it. You could almost hear him thinking, What in the name of dog has the bally woman done to me??? There is a piece of me over there on the carpet  and it isn't attached to me any more. Oh, his face. He just laid there staring at it for at least two minutes until I gave up hope of any more trimming and took it away.

Since then he has been trying very hard not to fall asleep. We get up, he gets up. The biggest boy says he's saying, Look out, they're coming, they're going to cut me, they're going to cut me. He may never trust us again. And we haven't even given him back his sight. I fear it may be a job for professionals.

I hope all have had a good start to the New Year. I'm wishing everyone much happiness, peace, love and contentment for 2018. CJ xx