on yesterday's continuation of clearing up...I suspect I am not long for submitting to this lurgy - Hedge says it is inevitable I will get it when everyone else is better and has forgotten how rotten it feels, but i have suspiciously sore bones today. Nothing to do with the tea time debacle that happened in the dark last night and is probably the first incident that relates to the title of my blog. It was one of those deals that started in the pub post shoot one day when one hairy chap said to another whiskery gentleman...."I'm looking for a dog....she's ready.."Now in Gamie parlance this does not mean that he has mis-placed his own, or wished to buy another, and has talked his wife round. Oh no, this simply means that his female dog is ready to accept a mate and he's on the hunt for some semen. It get's tackled in the pub because it means he's taken a fancy to your dog...or he has been recommended your dog as a suitable sire, or he's simply desperate and can't find a dog anywhere and recon's that your flea bitten moth eared hound will have to suffice. I don't know why men cant just say "can I use your dog as a stud". Oh No, it's always got to go round the long road. Anyway this was a recommendation so the new keeper (2.5 years in the job) of a neighbouring estate was on the phone with an air of urgency about him. It was a vaguely frustrating conversation carried out in man style with both men doing their ut-most to accommodate the other with the minimum of words and complete disregard to external circumstances. ie they were both very busy men, but shoe horning in a bit of canine sex was urgent, so at least one wife (me) would have to be around to help out. And so it happened - in the pouring rain, with a hard frost on top of the sheet ice that is our yard, in the nearing darkness that the pimp turned up with his bitch......All due credit to our lovely Baxter, he really couldn't be arsed! But needless to say after a few half hearted pathetic attempts of flirtation and with his new girlfriend positively gagging for it, they took off into the darkness, and left me to make polite conversation with a complete stranger..............it turns out that at least some big hairy intimidating looking men have a softer side as he admitted the reason he couldn't come the next day was because he was accompanying his 4yr old daughter to the panto. I managed to stop myself from roaring with laughter and calling him a big soft poofter, I didn't feel we knew each other well enough yet.......and my dog was still to "do the business". The comic possibilities are actually endless, i had been about to feed the pony and managed to lose a bucket of nuts and a haynet in the gloom. it was like a cut scene from dancing on ice as we skated round the yard, retiring to the shed where he clearly felt more at home amongst the snares and the quad bikes I found the time whilst making myself busy, in order to avoid eye contact with Baxter (it puts him off) to retrieve 2 sets of swimming kit, 3 socks and a jacket I forgot we owned - still no sign of Fin's brand new downie winter jacket -worn for a week and certainly out in the abyss somewhere - just no where I can lay my eyes on. My belief in the Universe is clearly not working properly - as your supposed to be able to visualise something and if you do it right, with enough intention - then it will come to you. This apparently works with things like making your fortune, and finding true love as well as the more mundane car keys and mobile phones, however it doesn't work with Gap anoraks worn for one week only. Useless.
Anyway, the long and the short of it that despite the hairy keeper saying his dog was definitely ready she is clearly not ready enough for my boy and is now lying at my feet gently farting, between singing sonnets to any of the house dogs who will listen, she has brought out the lesbian tendencies in our cairn who is busy humping her head at any opportunity - and looking out the window its now SNOWING!!!- how romantic.
And finally, to prove just HOW ill Hedge is he said at tea time last night whilst regaling us with the adventures of the day that his guests had been kind enough to take him to the farm shop for lunch. He had Lovely Pheasant broth, followed by 3 rounds of sandwiches, but -he said "do you know how poorly I am?" -"I was feeling that poorly I couldn't even manage a pudding or a beer" Terrible thing man flu - really shocking.
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