Guess what? I’ve found a four-legged creature that Shelby doesn’t chase!
Fair enough, she had a little sniff round it – but no barking and savagery.
Other than that highlight, I’ve finally got round to fencing in the back-garden, so the place is Shelby proof now. It’s nice for her to be able to run around a bit without a lead on.
The Pikey/Gucci vs Shelby battle is calming down too now. Pikey can wander into the room (and does) when Shelby is in there, and there’s no hassle. Gucci kind-of does, but isn’t quite so keen as Pikey.
Pikey clearly considers Shelby a pleb, but we could have a happy family this time next month.
…. or the goings on of a weekend in Henley.
After remembering Holly’s birthday on Friday, I was taking Shelby for her morning walk on Saturday – route saved through Nokia Sports Tracker on the N95 – when I came across a chav‘s bag that had been dumped in the bushes. Ever the decent citizen – and because it felt pretty heavy – I had a look to see what was inside in case it was the proceeds of a burglary or some such. Along with the usual drug taking and house breaking parephenalia (I kid thee not) that you would find in a bag dumped by some Hoody Half-wit, I was over the moon to discover an eight-inch kinfe and a can of lighter gas for sniffing. The brainless dork had also managed to leave his phone and a letter with his name and address on it in there – so that’s all with Henley police now.
Other than that we had a lovely potter around South Oxfordshire yesterday. The intention was to visit Holly’s grave, pop into the Crazy Bear for a drink, grab a bite to eat and then take Shelby for a wander along the Thames;
Holly bit – sorted. Crazy Bear – sorted. Here, though, the cunning plan of a bite to eat started to fall a bit flat. It’s sunny, we’ve got a roast tonight so just wanted a sarnie. That’s not too much to ask is it? Well, the Crazy Bear was only doing “Sunday dinner in the marquee” – not an option with Jenny, Shelby and me looking like I’d just emerged from the Australian bush. So, quick trip down memory lane and let’s try Home Sweet Home in Roke. They always used to have a huge menu. Nope! Lah-di-dah menu and clearly changed hands.
Next stop the Six Bells in Warborough (sorry about their web-site, it’s crap) – and the same again. Sunday lunch or nothing.
Next Dorchester-on-Thames (where we intended to do our walk anyway) – first pub (can’t remember it’s name) kitchen closed because they’re too busy, second (The George) lah-di-dah again. Finally, I spotted the last pub/hotlel in the village and tried them. Result! The White Hart was a hell of a find. Lovely menu, lovely food, lovely prices and a “garden” to sit in. Thoroughly recommended.
Sadly, after all our driving around looking for somewhere to eat, we didn’t have time for the walk – but we’ll get that sorted soon.
Other news. The washing machine has died! Stone dead. After a mere five thousand, seven hundred washes (ahem) it’s gone to meet it’s maker. Looks like Jules is getting an early Christmas present!
You’re probably wondering what the three Ws is all about. I knew this chap once and had the pleasure of going out for a drink with him and a couple of mates to Reading one night. I think he was a postman, but harboured Walter Mitty fantasies of being in the Special Forces. As we walked to the train station, he uttered the immortal words “Never set off on a night out without the three Ws”
Impressed by this wisdom and not having a clue what he was talking about we asked.
Reaching into the back of his trousers, he pulled out the largest knife I’ve ever seen in my life ….
“Wallet. Watch. Weapon”
I’ve not been drinking with him since.
Look, I’ve done some gardening!
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