The vagaries of the Basset

I’m a bit bored of being an anarchist now.

Let’s catch up:

Number one son is still ill. Some friends came for lunch and he was too poorly to play and too poorly to eat and is currently in bed, looking like a cup of cold porridge. I may have to think about actually taking him to the doctor if this continues.

It is still raining. I have to keep going to drain all my planters. My mint plants are currently submerged and not enjoying being aquatic plants at all.

The children are filming a murder mystery film. I await its conclusion with interest.

Jason is working from home this week. It is lovely to have him back, but he is spending a great deal of time pacing furiously about wearing headphones and a dressing gown and sounding agitated. I feel rather like he’s auditioning for Treasure Hunt as a slightly more hirsute Anneka Rice. It is a little unnerving.

I have a hot date at a motorway services in less than an hour to bring home tortoise related equipment. I am surprisingly nervous. Given how many bloggers I have happily sailed out to meet without so much as a qualm, you would think I would be fine with this. But no. I am worrying about whether I will be murdered by a tortoise fancier outside KFC at Junction 21.

I finished reading The Da Vinci Code. Never, ever again Dan Brown. You are a mockery of a sham.

Tallulah is about to embark on sea monkey keeping. She has borrowed a sugar thermometer and a ruler. I have asked no questions. She tells me she is going to name all her Sea Monkeys. I have no idea how many Sea Monkeys you get in a packet for a tenner, but I have a feeling we may have to tie ribbons on their feelers to tell them apart.

It is the pub quiz tonight. I am hoping we get tortoise related questions this week. I am gaining a variety of interesting, animal related specialities. Next week I will be all about the sea monkeys.

We are half way through Luther, series two. I am in serious like with Idris Elba.

I had a very odd dream where I took my car to the body shop to be fixed (this bit is not strange. For me, this bit is routine at the moment). Instead of a hire car they gave me a moped. I was driving it home, but it kept pulling to the right, making it very difficult to drive. A man dressed as a wizard popped up in a lay-by and flagged me down. When I parked up he explained that the body shop had in fact given me a Basset Hound and merely enchanted it to look like a scooter. He waved his wand and the moped turned into a dog, and I found I had been twisting its ears instead of the handle bars.

Poor dog.

2 responses to “The vagaries of the Basset

  1. Love the dream – you haven’t been at the Diana Wynne-Joneses again, have you?

  2. Not before bedtime!

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