I am being melodramatic, it's not like I'm never coming back. It is, after all, the location of the familial homestead. But it was such a lush weekend; even the dog was so excited to see me he made funny noises when he greeted me (although he isn't what you'd call entirely sane; he makes a habit of staring at the invisible man that seems to reside in secret in our house, and if he isn't around he stares at me instead). Me, Fayski and Aunty J went to see Frank, Lady, Fairy and Flea in Our Day Out which was wicked, and pub afterwards with everyone was even better. Interestingly, my mother and sister conspired with M and decided we should get married... I think (hope) this was an alcohol-fuelled decision, but you never know - M keeps calling me Wifey. There just seems to be something about being able to sit in a snuggly pub with the river outside the window, a pint in your hand and a group of lovely lovely people to chattle to that makes me thoroughly content. I'm not an alcoholic or anything, but I could literally live in a pub. (Not run one. Live in one.) Then today I had a lovely luncheon with another old school friend (who came to the pub but not the play, the rotter), where I discovered some startling things ab
out various mutual friends' relationships and spent too much money in HMV before retreating to the Lady's house for tea and gossiping. Good gossiping. I miss the Lady for gossiping when I'm in London, but then I come home there's just so damn much to chat about that it almost makes it worth the pain of separation.Didn't get to walk the dog though actually (I was too busy watching Hairspray with Flea and scouting phone chargers yesterday) which is sort of a shame, but as I look over at young Montgomery now, drooling and snoring in a runty sort of way on his bed in the corner, I realise he probably doesn't give a shit as long as someone took him out to harass some pheasants and a couple of cows. I think he's just pleased I let him come and have a snuggle on the sofa, something he's only allowed to do secretly when mum is out. Here is a picture of said dog with his new fashion accessory. He seemed to quite like it; at least, he completely ignored it, which made it funnier (and no it is not tied round his neck, just to his collar, before anyone gets all mardy about it). He's still asleep. With his head on the hard wood armrest of his chair, which doesn't look very comfortable. He literally spends his entire life being severely, painfully excited or... asleep. He's not paticularly bright either. Once when he was a puppy and we were walking along the highstreet someone accidentally bashed him over the head with their shopping and he didn't even appear to notice. My neighbour's 10-week old springer puppy is more self-aware than he is.
I should at this point (before I head bedwards, and before I write any more posts) explain that it's not that everyone I know has either a ridiculous name or merely a letter masquerading as a name. Basically I thought I'd better not name people directly in case they wouldn;t like it, and then I started having far too much fun deciding which nickname to use for people... some are more obvious than others. My sister actually has an incredibly ridiculous name (to English eyes) involving too many consonants, therefore everyone will know it's definately her I'm talking about. Anywhoooo... cheerio.
No comments:
Post a Comment