On Christmas Number Three

Well, once again it's Christmas and once again I wonder why there are 7 years between each Christmas Day. Still, I'm looking forward to the servants falling asleep after their dinner so that I may select a few morsels for myself. Meanwhile, let me wish everybody out there a very very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

On Sleep

To sleep perchance to dream...so here am I tucked up all nice and snug in my caravan. But remember, a terrier sleeps with one ear cocked and one eye open...so don't mess with me!

On Bonfire Night

I just cannot get my head round the weather in this country. Here we are on November 5th and rather than put on my hat and scarf to keep the chill out, I get the chance to catch a few rays on the rockery.  Don't worry about me when the fireworks go off later tonight. I give them a couple of barks and then maybe I'll have a snooze while the humans enjoy the cacophony. I'm told that my spiritual sister Brillo the Airedale, did not care for fireworks and spent the evening in a state of great distress. The way I look at it is that I'm Welsh - Guy Fawkes a Yorkshireman pretending to be Spanish and trying to blow up a Scottish king on an English throne is nothing to get in a fuss about. Bring on the air bombs baby! 

On Minstrels

If music be the food of love play on!...I certainly love food and I must admit that I like a nice tune now and again. There are many ways to listen to the work of one's minstrel. I find the through the spine method gives greater resonance. 

                                                                                                                                        

I am capable of the classic Nipper in His Master's Voice pose but I'd rather not give my minstrel ideas above his station. Best just to snuggle down and let the music flow!

On Terrierism

I don't know what it's like for my friends in other countries, but here in the United Kingdom Terrierism is rife.  We must even keep our servant on a lead when entering a bank. Do I see signs barring labradors? No! Signs forbidding collies? No! It's an outrage! 

On Escape 2

It's been a long time since I last wrote.  My secretaries have idled away the last two weeks watching the Olympics despite the computer having at last been repaired. However, I digress.

Having camped for the last couple of years and been flooded off the Keswick campsite in both Year 1 and Year 2, some of you will know that my female servant persuaded my manservant that a caravan would better suit my needs. Caravan Expedition 1: Day 1 Hail and Snow. Day 2 Hail and Freezing Winds. Day 3 Clear Skies and Sunshine. Day 4 Hail followed by Freezing Winds, Rain, Rain and Rain. Day 5 Retreat Home!

Caravan Expedition 2:  Arrive in Yorkshire in glorious sunshine. Things are looking up, do a bit of this, do a bit of that, eat al fresco, catch a few rays.
Day 2 Glorious sunshine. A bit more of this, a bit more of that. Canoe up the river. Canoe down the river. Female servant has idea to try out the awning. Some hours later and with the aid of some experienced caravanners the awning is up. Realise that the awning is actually an attempt to imprison me but my would be captors did not reckon with a Welsh Terrier's ability to unzip even the zippiest of zips!  Manservant grumbles because he now needs to walk through awning from caravan to go and sit in the sun.
Day 3 Rain. Drive to this place and that. It's a race meeting and ladies are making their way to the racecourse in their best summer dresses, hats and shoes- it's going to get messy!  Not allowed in Ripon Cathedral so me and manservant wander about in the rain while female servant wanders about inside very impressive (apparently) cathedral. Market traders are packing up due to the incessant rain but manage to buy a new ball on a rope from the pet stall to replace the one my female servant lobbed inaccurately into the brambles earlier on.
Day 4 Visit Mother Shipton's Cave in Knaresborough. Look at the water dripping on to objects which it petrifies in a couple of months.  Meanwhile water continues to drip on me from the heavens. Get back to camp site where the river level is rising and the caravan is now in a small lake. Advised to take down awning as there might only be an hour's notice of flood.  Manservant grumbles that we shouldn't have put it up in the first place. Check river again and the moorings are now under water. Advise servants to back up and flee. Flee we did and a good job too because yes, the site flooded! In fact, it would seem that much of Northern England flooded over the next couple of weeks. Horrendous drive over the Pennines with only about 15 yards visiblity.
Now that was the real escape!

On Catching A Few Rays In The United Kingdom

First I must apologise to my friends for my apparent silence. Blame my manservant for this for it is he that has failed to get the computer hard drive repaired. Thus it may be that the next series of blogs appear disjointed. My readers in the United Kingdom will understand why I am forced to try catching a few rays of the sun indoors. It may be that I am Welsh and that Wales=Rain but come on!  This is beyond a joke!  We are now nearly a third of the way through an English summer and where I might ask you is the sun?  Not in my bloody back yard I will tell you!  My first caravan holiday at Easter - driven off the site by snow and hail! My second, as we headed towards the Longest Day - driven off by rain and flood!  My third, in Somerset, started drizzly, was drizzly in the middle and, on the 200 mile journey home, concluded in torrential rain and flooding.  And still there is no respite!