But then I did. Initiated by Boolie deciding that he really needed to Go OUT, and not keep poncing about on the campus like me and Lester had been doing all day. Well, we had been working. Lester to pay for Boo's food, and me to try and become an ever-so-famous-writer by selling at least one book. And what slow going that is and how I am learning that being a writer requires of one hours and hours and hours and yet more hours of earnest endeavour which can, quite frankly, drive one up the pole.
Anyway, on with today. It has been hot, so early lunch because being in the kitchen caravan is like being in a sauna if one is trying to cook. Heat from the sun + heat from the oven (if on, which most days it is) + top of stove cooking = one hot and drippy moi. Yesterday, it was hotter. I left it until late evening to wash up. It was still swelteringly hot. So I divested myself of my top and other articles except my pinny, and hoped that Bruno, bless him, wouldn't come swinging along to see how we were getting along. Fortunately he didn't. But I relied on Boo's ears to let me know if he, or anyone else, was about.
Trouble is that Boo's getting lazy. He used to bark at everything, which was a nuisance sometimes, but a blessing at other times especially if one was doing things which one didn't want anyone else to see. But he is getting inattentive to his job of late, and we are finding that we are the ones to investigate new arrivals before he does. I think I will have to have a talk with him about what his job actually entails, especially as it looks as if I am going to be only wearing a pinny in the kitchen caravan more often. We are, as it happens, still only in late spring, and the temperature in the bedroom caravan was at 30 degrees C.
So, 7pm here. Bools was of the opinion that messing about with potting compost was too damn boring. So he psyched me out. He does this by lying down with his head on his front paws and stares and stares at me, knowing that I will get the message eventually.
Off we go down the lane. Now I don't know why he has to do this, but he always does at least one or two deposits right outside Christiane's house. No matter how I try to get him to do his doggy dollops elsewhere, always he manages to find some contribution to dump around her property. I have become deft at doing a quick sideways flick with my booted foot to reposition the deposits. I am sure that Bools thinks it fun.
The grass has grown. So has the oil seed rape on our fields which means that we haven't been able to walk round our fields for weeks. We miss that. It makes us feel disengaged from the full extent of Labartere. Today I thought I would plough a way through. After all, I haven't had an adventure today, so here goes. Instead of returning the way I had come, I carried on over Christiane's field, into a little strip of woodland, then round the edge of our oil seed rape field.
The grass was as tall as my head. It was fun for a couple of yards. Bools thought so too. He does kangaroo hops in long grass. But he also spooks himself. The thing is, I rely on his desire to look after and protect me from anything which might come and eat me. It would seem that this only applies to when I am having a lie down in bed, when he can do watch-dog in comfort, or sitting at my computer when he can do a full-on sleep as can be heard by his snoring, him being obviously off-duty. But when it matters, as when I am having an adventure in tall grass which could be housing all manner of creatures both great and small, and here I am reminded of that humungous snake that I disturbed in the middle of winter when I was messing about out front, he seems to be looking toward me for protection. So it ended up with both of us spooking each other.
We made a safe return.
I had an adventure today. I have the mozzie bites to prove it and my nose is full of grass seed and oil seed rape dust, which means that the bedroom caravan will swim sweetly with the scent of Vick Vapour Rub which I will have to use in quantity if I am to keep my airways open so I can breath.
Bools meanwhile, is having a nap. After all, he was the leader on the adventure as such thinks he deserves the reward of a kip.
Things I have learnt today: That its best to wait until Farmer Foch cuts the oil seed rape and hopefully also cuts the verges so me and Bools can make a safe passage round our land and also ensure I do not become peppered overall with mozzie bites. That an early dinner was a good idea because I could wash up when it wasn't so hot and therefore avoid any embarassment to Bruno and other visitors by wearing only my pinny because it is too hot to do otherwise. That even when one doesn't think one is going to have an adventure, an adventure will pop up and find one. That Vick is a blessing.
Anyway, on with today. It has been hot, so early lunch because being in the kitchen caravan is like being in a sauna if one is trying to cook. Heat from the sun + heat from the oven (if on, which most days it is) + top of stove cooking = one hot and drippy moi. Yesterday, it was hotter. I left it until late evening to wash up. It was still swelteringly hot. So I divested myself of my top and other articles except my pinny, and hoped that Bruno, bless him, wouldn't come swinging along to see how we were getting along. Fortunately he didn't. But I relied on Boo's ears to let me know if he, or anyone else, was about.
Trouble is that Boo's getting lazy. He used to bark at everything, which was a nuisance sometimes, but a blessing at other times especially if one was doing things which one didn't want anyone else to see. But he is getting inattentive to his job of late, and we are finding that we are the ones to investigate new arrivals before he does. I think I will have to have a talk with him about what his job actually entails, especially as it looks as if I am going to be only wearing a pinny in the kitchen caravan more often. We are, as it happens, still only in late spring, and the temperature in the bedroom caravan was at 30 degrees C.
So, 7pm here. Bools was of the opinion that messing about with potting compost was too damn boring. So he psyched me out. He does this by lying down with his head on his front paws and stares and stares at me, knowing that I will get the message eventually.
Off we go down the lane. Now I don't know why he has to do this, but he always does at least one or two deposits right outside Christiane's house. No matter how I try to get him to do his doggy dollops elsewhere, always he manages to find some contribution to dump around her property. I have become deft at doing a quick sideways flick with my booted foot to reposition the deposits. I am sure that Bools thinks it fun.
The grass has grown. So has the oil seed rape on our fields which means that we haven't been able to walk round our fields for weeks. We miss that. It makes us feel disengaged from the full extent of Labartere. Today I thought I would plough a way through. After all, I haven't had an adventure today, so here goes. Instead of returning the way I had come, I carried on over Christiane's field, into a little strip of woodland, then round the edge of our oil seed rape field.
The grass was as tall as my head. It was fun for a couple of yards. Bools thought so too. He does kangaroo hops in long grass. But he also spooks himself. The thing is, I rely on his desire to look after and protect me from anything which might come and eat me. It would seem that this only applies to when I am having a lie down in bed, when he can do watch-dog in comfort, or sitting at my computer when he can do a full-on sleep as can be heard by his snoring, him being obviously off-duty. But when it matters, as when I am having an adventure in tall grass which could be housing all manner of creatures both great and small, and here I am reminded of that humungous snake that I disturbed in the middle of winter when I was messing about out front, he seems to be looking toward me for protection. So it ended up with both of us spooking each other.
We made a safe return.
I had an adventure today. I have the mozzie bites to prove it and my nose is full of grass seed and oil seed rape dust, which means that the bedroom caravan will swim sweetly with the scent of Vick Vapour Rub which I will have to use in quantity if I am to keep my airways open so I can breath.
Bools meanwhile, is having a nap. After all, he was the leader on the adventure as such thinks he deserves the reward of a kip.
Things I have learnt today: That its best to wait until Farmer Foch cuts the oil seed rape and hopefully also cuts the verges so me and Bools can make a safe passage round our land and also ensure I do not become peppered overall with mozzie bites. That an early dinner was a good idea because I could wash up when it wasn't so hot and therefore avoid any embarassment to Bruno and other visitors by wearing only my pinny because it is too hot to do otherwise. That even when one doesn't think one is going to have an adventure, an adventure will pop up and find one. That Vick is a blessing.
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