The dogs disgraced themselves yesterday afternoon.
I took them to the Library Gardens for a last-minute emptying before work. I make them walk to heel as we cross the road and the car park, and then when I think they have managed good behaviour for as long as they can bear, usually about a minute and a half, I tell them that they can go. That is their cue to hurtle off into the park at top speed, barking their heads off and barging into one another.
Last night there was a couple sitting on the lawn having a picnic.
They had two fluffy little dogs with them.
Roger and Rosie are terribly nosy, and belted directly across the lawn to investigate.
Rather to my surprise, instead of saying Hello Doggies, which is the usual greeting with which tourists patronise strange dogs, these two screamed, leaped to their feet and caught their dogs up in their arms.
Their own dogs were not pleased about this and fought desperately, struggling to leap down either to fight or to sniff the thuggish newcomers.
Roger and Rosie were more intrigued than ever. The couple squealed, and tried to bat them away. Roger and Rosie tried to leap up at the now terribly over-excited balls of fluff, who were trying equally hard to leap down, whilst the couple squeaked and said things like Go Away You Nasty Rough Common Creatures.
At that point Rosie discovered their picnic and forgot about the fluffy dogs.
I should not have laughed. Really I shouldn’t.
Obviously I did, though.
I was still laughing when I got home.
I told Roger and Rosie that they were very wicked indeed, but they did not seem at all repentant.
It has been splendid to rediscover my morning fell walks. There is something magnificent about being solitary except for the dogs, and having nothing to distract me from the birdsong and the heavy scent of the hawthorn blossom, and the speedwells and forget-me-nots alongside the path. We still have sunshine, by some globally warmed miracle, and I have been strolling around the fells in shorts and flip-flops. This is perfectly fine as long as you make sure to stay out of toe-crushing distance when you are passing the cows, who are not noticeable for their dainty footsteps.
It has made me feel very contented. I am not even excessively troubled by the extreme dryness of the fells, the little becks dried to a mere dribble, or nothing at all. The mud patches are hard and cracked, and the cows are standing shoulder-deep in the tarn. I am not worried about it because this is the Lake District, and of one thing I am entirely certain.
We will have more than enough rain sooner or later, and very probably sooner. If there are any raindrops out there anywhere at all, they will make their way here in the end.
In the meantime I am enjoying every sun-kissed minute.
In any case it is a good job we still have the sunshine because the front door is still lying in the front garden. Mark and the painting man have promised that they will finish painting it tomorrow, or by the day after at the very latest, and so I am being patient, or at any rate, as patient as I ever am, which might not exactly qualify me for sainthood.
I would quite like to have the door back on, because we are having visitors next week, and it would be nice if I didn’t have to insist that they came round the back in order that they didn’t notice the front of the house. Number Two Daughter and Mrs. Number Two Daughter are over from Canada, and they are coming to spend a few days with us. Of course it doesn’t matter about Number Two Daughter, who will just roll her eyes and sigh, but Mrs. Number Two Daughter is of a well-brought-up nature and might think that the house is only short of a couple of rusty shopping trolleys and an old Skoda resting on some bricks to complete the domestic picture.
The back yard looks a bit like that anyway.
Hence I am encouraging haste with the door-painting activities. I am very much looking forward to seeing them. We do not see them very often at all, and it is going to be very lovely.
I have spent today giving their room an extra hoover and polish to make up for the front door.
They will be here on Tuesday.
