Roger and Peter Ustinov

 

Pull up your knickers and tighten the bra straps 

Another fairly bland post is on its way.

Roger went missing this morning.

He was politely waiting to jump into Bluebell to go on his morning walk and poof ! he was gone.

He has only mastered jumping into the footwell of the car by the way, and can’t quite compute the slightly bigger jump straight on the driver’s seat. But I had turned my back for a gnat’s crotch of a second and he had vanished.

The lane was empty . He’d gone off like a rocket, so I checked up into the village towards the main road  first…nothing then down the lane to Trendy Carol’s ….not a sign. 

I was beginning to worry.

The main road is lethal for a dog of Roger’s IQ and so I drove around the main village calling his name.

Not a sausage.

So I drove down the lane again , parked outside the sheep gated field and called him.

Still nothing.

I was beginning to get worried.

Lambing time is no place for a dim dog to be roaming lost in fields.

I called him again.

And suddenly he was there in the lane with a black plastic plant pot in his mouth, 

Looking nonchalant and relaxed

Another treasure stolen from a ditch or a garden .

He brought the plant pot home with him, showing it off to the others with a toss of his head.

They weren’t interested.

So that was the mini drama for the morning.

Please no more today. I’m on nights now until Tuesday morning.

I made some coffee in my mokka coffee pot and have sat down to watch Parkinson on YouTube .

Now I loved Michael Parkinson in the 1970s

As a teen I was privy to the crem de la crem of the talk show , where icons such as David Niven, Peter Ustinov , Peter Cook , Kenneth Williams and Billy Connolly were given time and space to shine.

And shine they indeed did. 

Strange that the only woman of note I remembered being interviewed by Parkinson was Catherine Bramwell-Booth The Captain of the Salvation Army and she shone by virtue of a natural warmth and power

I treated myself to a low calorie brunch of eggs and potato cakes made from dried potato and herbs.

Bloody lovely….

And am presently watching Kenneth Williams in all of his full camp fury

The camellia has eventually flowered by the back door. I’ve had it five years now and it’s the first blooms 

It’s a good sign 

A good one

The neighbours behind me are beginning to get noisy as they do when the sun is shining

I’ve put Waloyo Yamoni by Christopher Tin on full blast to drown out  chihuahua  Charlie’s yapping