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Rainy day...

Bloomin' 'eck, it's parky...
Armed with my warm coat, scarf, bobble hat and gloves, I set out to brave the elephants (not a typo. I always say this) with the woofers yesterday afternoon.  They gave me that look which says something along the lines of 'you have got to be kidding', but undeterred, I dragged them out of the front door into the brisk wind.
It was a really average walk.  I'd brought different leads so had no treats on me, so by the first gate, my name was mud, and the two dogs were looking rather mutinous.  The heavens played its usual trick, opening just as I reached the half way point, and as the rain lashed down Reg did what he always does when faced with the wet stuff, and huddled under a gorse bush.  Unfortunately, this is not an option for a lady of generous proportions and I miserably carried on walking, feeling my legs getting wetter and wetter through my leggings, and hoping that my elastic was robust enough to keep my dignity intact.
Finally …
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Stuck on you...

In a couple of weeks time, I am off for a few days away in Prague with Miss R and the husband.  Based on historical trips away with these two in the run up to Christmas, there will be a list made of places of interest which will get longer and longer the closer we get to taking off.  However, once there, you are less likely to find us strolling over Charles Bridge, as much of the time will be spent in a bar drinking cheap beer and complaining about the cold.
This was what happened on one of our trips to Poland a couple of years ago.  Stupidly, I thought my expensive waterproof dog walking coat would be more than adequate, but having walked around for three days with my own personal coat hooks (!) I decided that a warmer coat would be needed for the next pre-Christmas trip.  
Well you know what happened?  Over the following eighteen months, I forgot all about needing a warm coat instead relying on thermal vests and a an extra woolly. It wasn't till a few months ago that I remembered …

Forever Autumn...

After a stunning walk along the river yesterday morning with the two dogs and Long John Silver (yes, he's still limping) the husband and I stopped at a new cafe for an edible reward after the four mile meander.  Sitting outside with our coffees and spectacular sandwiches (www.cartshed.co.uk if you're interested), we decided that this was to be one of our new favourite places for a walking pit stop. Mind you, I'm not too sure that my jeans would be too happy about me being a regular visitor, as the flapjack was by far the best I have ever had (and I'm not backward at coming forward at every flapjack opportunity).  
So it was two sleepy woofers and two knackered owners who did the short drive home.  I hadn't said anything to the husband, but the sofa had been calling for me for at least an hour by that time, so when he suggested that it would be a good day to sort the garden out, I nearly thumped him.  But of course, he was right.  It was beautiful yesterday, and who …

Another one bites the dust...

Bohemian Rhapsody was every I hoped it would be.  Big teeth, a larger than life moustache, a lot, and I mean a lot, of black leather, and some cracking music.  Oh, and a few tears (I don't think I have ruined it for anyone have I?)
The husband had sulked for most of the journey to the cinema, as I had made the fatal error of booking the cinema which wasn't the one which sold rum and raisin ice cream smoothies.  Placating him with a hot dog and some nachos, we settled down in our (pre-booked) seats and waited for the Freddie-Fest to start.
As the trailers came to an end, all hell broke out in the row in front of us.  The couple who had simply plonked themselves down 'wherever' had already been moved on twice by people who had booked the seats they were in, but the third attempt simply pushed them over the edge.  When faced with a very quiet couple who asked them very pleasantly if they would mind vacating their seats, a full blown argument started, with the squatters stat…

Mudslide...

Watching old 'Tresemme' at her press conference yesterday afternoon (get me being topical) I decided that she wasn't the only one having to make monumental decisions yesterday.
As you all know by now (if you don't, where have you been for the last three years?) I have two dogs who drag me around various parts of the countryside in pursuit of the perfect woofer walk.  Sometimes, these walks can start from my front door, but on many occasions a drive in my car is needed if we fancy going further afield.  This means having the two dogs on the back seat of my car, as funnily enough, my Mini has no boot.
Now the weather over the last few weeks has been the stuff of Noah, and subsequently the inside of my car had taken on the appearance of a grubby skip.  There was so much mud on the back seat that it looked like I'd had a particularly high tide and the floor mats had long given up any resemblance to luxury, instead looking like the floor of the hippos' enclosure at Lo…

Smells like teen spirit...

The Tasmanian Devil (aka the whirlwind which is son number two) and Goldilocks left again yesterday afternoon, eager to get back to the cheap beer and food of the North.  This trip was unlike any other mid university visit from the other three children, in that there was no washing.  A miracle of mammoth proportions for which I am ever grateful.  The two of them had been to Oxford for the day and had bought me a small present to say thank you for putting them up so beautifully.
It was a lovely gift, a patchouli reed diffuser, and it smelt gorgeous.  Placing it reverently above the fireplace, I felt very grateful to have such a thoughtful son (although it was Goldilock's idea I would imagine) and I sniffed it appreciatively.
And then a thought hit me...
Does my house smell?  I mean, you have to ask yourself whether I've gone nose blind to the aromas of wet dog and building site husband.  It's a bit like buying deodorant for a colleague who is knocking them dead (literally) at …

Top of the world...

Son number two took Goldilocks to London yesterday.  I realised yesterday that I hadn't really explained why she's been give this name.  It's not that she loves porridge, or even hairy bear faces (mind you, I'd understand if that was the casehaving seen the state of son number two's face on Sunday - I reckon he has a family of starlings living in his facial furniture). No, I have named her Goldilocks because she has beautiful blonde hair (not that I'm jealous...says she as she plucks out another crop of grey imposters) so the name is fitting.
Goldilocks was very keen to go on the open top bus tour around London.  Son number two was a little reticent (not cool apparently) and I impressed on him how important it was to put your girlfriend first.  Actually, this lesson can be applied to wives and mums too I think.
Now I know my son really well, and I know that he could sell ice to a polar bear. Likewise, if he doesn't want to do something, he's rather good a…