I awoke this morning to find that we had left Europe.
Chicken looked out into the garden and announced that it made no difference at all as it was still cold. She had expected us to move a little closer to the Caribbean once we left Europe, though as there is still a long way to go so to speak, has not yet given up hope of wearing her bikini.
As you know, I am not one to occupy my time with frivolous activities, so I recently organised a squirrel hunt for Chicken and I. Showing my usual generosity, I allowed The Fairy to accompany us. Her training is progressing well and I have allowed Chicken to let go of The Fairy’s lead. I, of course, am always still attached to her as there is no guarantee that she will not wonder off on her own and be found twenty miles away, a week later.
Max and Tilly
Imagine my surprise when instead of finding squirrels in the woods, we actually found a couple of greyhounds who were doing an excellent job of impersonating us! Chicken was convinced that they actually were us and, having decided she didn’t like herself, went off with her heckles up. To be fair, she did make a bit of an effort which was fortuitous for all involved.
The two ladies who were with the dogs were lovely and kept The Fairy well engaged whilst I swapped details with the hounds. I’m sure you will join me in congratulating Max and Tilly for being so incredibly attractive.
Monty The Great
You have too much time on your hands.
Get a job.
This dog is not for dressing. That’s what we have Chicken for.
I understand that the current political situation is one that demands my attention, but I have recently been pre-occupied with something that I’m sure you will agree, is much more important than the future of Britain: The Mud Head Project.
Yes people – my Mud Head is back on the menu!
After much debate, I conceded to my digging pit being removed in order to have my Mud Head take centre stage right in the middle of the garden. Whilst I accept this, it is nonetheless very painful.
Goodbye old friend. You have served me well.
Digging pit: June 2016 to September 2019
I really do hope that Chicken is never called to court as a witness.
Crumble the cat
Britain has won the Global Voting Competition, coming first in almost every category including: Most Frequent Voting; Best Excuse For Voting; Worst Excuse For Voting; Most Meaningless Vote, and Greatest Number Of Repeated Votes For Exactly The Same Thing. It was also awarded the Country Most Likely To Have Another Vote Before The End Of The Day trophy.
We are all feeling very proud.
We recently spent the day with Sister at Grandma and Grandad’s house, as I am supervising the building of a new pond. It dawned on me that whilst we see Sister, we no longer visit her house. I was perplexed by this, so surreptitiously sent Chicken to mingle with them to see if she could glean some information regarding this matter.
Who wouldn’t eat the crumble?
I will not pretend that I understood everything that Chicken said, but she appeared to be reporting that Sister always has a fruit crumble in her house, and The Fairy is worried – quite rightly, I concede – that Chicken and I would eat it.
I have called a meeting with The Fairy to clarify some of the finer points. Sister is always so kind to us, that I find it difficult to believe she would object to us eating the crumble. If need be, we will have a vote to settle the issue of visiting Sister’s house.
I’m sure that, like me, you are riveted to the ongoing Brexit negotiations. Chicken’s interest is now waning after an initially enthusiastic start. I can see her point. They are making it out to be a lot more complicated than it is. As far as I can see, we have three options.
1. Forget the whole thing, remain part of Europe whilst quietly dispensing with the whole silly democracy thing, and go about our daily lives with renewed energy.
2. Leave Europe but remain close by and go about our daily lives with renewed energy. Chicken suggested settling the country just off the coast of Norway.
3. Leave Europe, put a large distance between us and go about our daily lives with renewed energy. Chicken suggested moving closer to Panama where some of our tax revenue is held in off-shore accounts, but has recently changed her mind when she realised there would be many more 35 degree days.
All round English hero
That’s it. That’s all there is to it and I really believe they should stop making a meal of it. If a meal is going to be made; let it be of steak and cake. Possibly also sausages and ice cream.
The Fairy and Chicken are both making plans to marry Ben Stokes, all round English hero. Yet again, I fail to see the attraction.
He’s only got TWO LEGS.
Monty The Great
Chicken has opened a GoFundMe account to help someone who is short of clothing. She has suggested that everyone who is willing to contribute should send some suspenders to a person called Doris. I suggested other clothing might also be appreciated, but she said it was only suspenders that were required. It warms my heart to see her being so kind to the less fortunate.
Helping with the digging
On the home front, great progress has been made in my garden. I had to put in a written complaint due to the inactivity of The Fairy which seems to have done the trick. She recently installed a luxury toilet for myself, which has unfortunately been hijacked by EVEN MORE WILDLIFE. It is almost as if she expected the wildlife to visit, as demonstrated by her building a stone escape structure for the hedgehogs. Does she really expect me to share my toilet facilities? She also made a serious error with regards groundcover, which I had to protest against, through the medium of wee. There is no place in my bathroom for gravel. Not with my sensitive feet. It makes no sense.
They came …
Over the last few months I have struggled to keep on top of the invading wildlife. Some incidents have been more serious than others, though none more outrageous than the Brainless Bird Incident of June 2019.
For whatever reason, there is a hole in a brick on the outside wall and a starling built a nest in the cavity. It threw out a large amount of insulation and set up shop. When the birdlets hatched, we could hear them through the living room wall.
One evening, The Fairy said she could hear a bird in the downstairs toilet facility. She persisted with this notion and a few hours later, determined to smash open the toilet ceiling with a hammer. Luckily, the only tool on hand was a screwdriver so she decided to open the ceiling fan instead because that was where the noise was the loudest.
To my surprise, she reached in and extracted two very noisy birds. The Fairy put them in a box and rang the emergency vet who didn’t mind at all that he had been called in the middle of the night. The mother bird hadn’t been seen since dinner time and the birdlets didn’t have any wing feathers. The Fairy thought that if she pushed them back into the hole in the wall they would just make their way to the toilet again. She decided to take care of them overnight. About an hour later, she found another one looking out of the fan! The following day the birds went off to the wonderful Rase Vets.
Which leaves us with this question: What kind of brainless animal purposely tries to break into a toilet?
I rang The Station with regards to having them arrested for Breaking and Entering and Criminal Damage. PC Dave said that unfortunately there’s no law against being stupid.
Naturally, he was referring to the birdlets and not to myself.
The first night of living our new nocturnal lifestyle has ended in carnage.
We began the evening with high hopes and a spate of congratulatory statements about our excellent plan. Not long into the experiment however, the heavens conspired against us and a wealth of thunder, lightning and heavy rain descended.
After one unnecessarily loud clap of thunder, I made my way carefully though purposefully towards my office where I had left some important paperwork which needed attending to. On the way there, I caught the wire of the fan and dragged it three foot along the carpet. In an effort to get out of the way, I tripped on the vacuum cleaner (why is it even there; it’s never used) and banged into a set of step ladders which came down with enough noise to drown out the thunder.
At this point I decided to abandon my foray into nocturnal living and went into the hallway for some peace and quiet and perchance to sleep.
When I awoke this morning I found that we have a new Prime Minister in the shape and form of Boris Johnson.
It is entirely possible that I have concussion.