I had a really bad night. Couldn’t sleep for whatever reason, only drifting off in the early hours. T seemed to spend the night munching on apples which did not help.
I spent busy brain time thinking about getting H to the V for a routine vaccination. Why was I bothered? Good question. It was only a simple task. But it did depend on T cooperating and being up in time for me to get him to social care on time, not late, which would mean that I could give little H a quick walk.
In fact, looking back on the night, I also had a mild headache which was probably disturbing me until I slammed paracetamol down my throat.
T was quite compliant and H and I exercised at Goring Rec. Yesterday there had been more ridiculous roadworks and temporary traffic lights at Streatley lights, where nothing was happening (Sunday) and I didn’t want to risk delays to the vet. So I thought I would get the roadworks out of the way today. Unnecessary. They were not there. Gone. Disappeared as if they had never existed and yet they caused all that hold up yesterday.
H and I wandered over Goring Rec, being careful to avoid Lewis Hamilton driving his tractor with its spiky contraption to aerate the ground. Neither Lewis nor the machine were likely to stop for dogs and humans that might carelessly stray into their path.
There were hints of Spring out there and I noticed daffodils showing their shoots the other day. Welford Park opens for snowdrops in February.
We avoided bloodshed and parked up at the Catherine Wheel near the Vet. I was a bit early so managed to chat with Rebecca C who is still holding the fort at reception. The Cornwall family are all well. Though Clive has a few problems with his thrice married wife. Bit of a clue in the thrice bit.
He must have married late in life as he must be in his fifties now. He was the apprentice motorbike kid when Pen was at primary school with Rebecca. How time flies.
H was reasonably, but not entirely obliging. I think she recognises the vet surgery as meaning trouble. She seems to be in good health and accepted her prick with little gratitude. And I came away with flea/tick tabs and worm pills.
I took myself to the Village cafe for one of their wonderful coffees and cake. H was looking hopeful so I offered her a worm tablet. But it was rejected. I shall have to camouflage it in her doggy mince tonight. Flavoured with Waitrose lentil and tomato soup, which I did not enjoy. So it is now in her meat.
This phone is mangling some of my typing into absolute nonsense. So I have decided to keep a note of some of its more interesting, and less interesting interpretations.
Update -Tuesday morning means Art in Abingdon. Toes later.
It was another quite disturbed night when we played tug of war with the duvet. Putting it over the bed the correct way round might have helped.
And typos
Anke yo – managed
thrive – thrice
but if – bit of
nest – meat
Thought for the Day
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