Man alive. It has NOT been an uneventful week. I hardly know where to begin. In the first place, here I am dressed as Sherwood Forest from page 9 of the local newspaper.
In the background, you might be able to see my Little Green Corsa. And, believe me, I was every bit as fed up as I look.
I have had the company of my partner today, as she was not at all well. Yesterday, we did the Cancer Research "Race for Life" with Dolores. I was festooned with a pink scarf and received a medal for completing the race at the finishing line. I drew much praise and admiration from the viewing public, but the efforts proved a little too much for my partner. We love our extra-long walks, but at our own pace and with appropriate rest-stops, and I am sorry to say a migraine ensued in the poor girl, which lingers on even now. She made a valiant attempt to get up and dressed for work, but was ultimately defeated and returned to bed - with trusty Jasper snuggling down selflessly at her side.
Apparently, I have been a particularly naughty boy just recently. Heaven alone knows exactly what I am supposed to have done but my partner says that the world must be told of my apparent crime, that I may think twice before repeating the offence. However, this must be a tale for another time - my partner says that making any reference to my heinous actions (for she will not trust me to relate the tale myself and demands to be allowed access to my blog to commit it to posterity. I have not yet managed to see a way out of this.) may bring about a return of her migraine. Instead, I offer to you:
JASPER'S HOLIDAY DIARY - DAY TWO
My partner and I awoke to a glorious morning in Abercastle. The sun shone and the gentle waves lapping at the beach serenaded us as we broke our fast with a pot of tea on the sun-kissed patio. While I tried to work out a way of scaling the cliffs that descended to our garden (rock-climbing is a particular hobby of mine), my partner sipped her tea and read her holiday book - a biography of Marie Antoinette (a loving woman, innocent of what she was accused of saying and doing. What happened to her was a travesty, but don't even get me started on that subject...).
After I had reluctantly conceded my inability to climb the cliffs without the aid of a crampon, my partner and I quickly and efficiently unpacked our Little Green Corsa and stacked away our goodies (my partner did the work: I supervised). We then pottered the few yards to the little beach and I took a most refreshing dip in the crystal-clear Atlantic waters. At this point, two golden retrievers ambled down the hill to introduce themselves - the first of my holiday friends. Their names were Mali (a chap) and Cadi (an elderly, yet elegant, lady). They lived in a big pink house on the opposite cliff and were allowed to wander at will around the hamlet. They made a tour of all the houses every morning and were most affable.
Cadi (on the beach)
Mali (on his rounds, at my front door)
Their compatriot was a little brown chap of indeterminate origin (but with a truly majestic tail) named Bobby, unfortunately I don't have a picture of him. The three were really quite comical. All very sociable, and at 10.00am sharp every day they would trot off to the end of the hamlet to await the bus. The driver always had a biscuit for them. At 10.30am they moved on a little further to greet the arrival of the postman, who was also armed with a supply of biscuits. How I envy their lifestyle. I also enjoyed meeting a lovely young lady, a whippet named Rowley, who was holidaying with her partners from Henley-on-Thames. She was very sparky and fun to play with on the beach.
Just after lunch-time we were joined in our cottage by my partner's parents, along with her brother, sister-in-law and little Ewan. I was most relieved to see that they had performed their journeys without incident. Following an afternoon of football in the garden and a little bit of sandcastle-construction on the beach with Ewan, my partner and I took a simply delightful walk over the cliffs in the evening. I share with you now some pictures from this. Witness heaven on earth:
Good night.
In the background, you might be able to see my Little Green Corsa. And, believe me, I was every bit as fed up as I look.
I have had the company of my partner today, as she was not at all well. Yesterday, we did the Cancer Research "Race for Life" with Dolores. I was festooned with a pink scarf and received a medal for completing the race at the finishing line. I drew much praise and admiration from the viewing public, but the efforts proved a little too much for my partner. We love our extra-long walks, but at our own pace and with appropriate rest-stops, and I am sorry to say a migraine ensued in the poor girl, which lingers on even now. She made a valiant attempt to get up and dressed for work, but was ultimately defeated and returned to bed - with trusty Jasper snuggling down selflessly at her side.
Apparently, I have been a particularly naughty boy just recently. Heaven alone knows exactly what I am supposed to have done but my partner says that the world must be told of my apparent crime, that I may think twice before repeating the offence. However, this must be a tale for another time - my partner says that making any reference to my heinous actions (for she will not trust me to relate the tale myself and demands to be allowed access to my blog to commit it to posterity. I have not yet managed to see a way out of this.) may bring about a return of her migraine. Instead, I offer to you:
JASPER'S HOLIDAY DIARY - DAY TWO
My partner and I awoke to a glorious morning in Abercastle. The sun shone and the gentle waves lapping at the beach serenaded us as we broke our fast with a pot of tea on the sun-kissed patio. While I tried to work out a way of scaling the cliffs that descended to our garden (rock-climbing is a particular hobby of mine), my partner sipped her tea and read her holiday book - a biography of Marie Antoinette (a loving woman, innocent of what she was accused of saying and doing. What happened to her was a travesty, but don't even get me started on that subject...).
After I had reluctantly conceded my inability to climb the cliffs without the aid of a crampon, my partner and I quickly and efficiently unpacked our Little Green Corsa and stacked away our goodies (my partner did the work: I supervised). We then pottered the few yards to the little beach and I took a most refreshing dip in the crystal-clear Atlantic waters. At this point, two golden retrievers ambled down the hill to introduce themselves - the first of my holiday friends. Their names were Mali (a chap) and Cadi (an elderly, yet elegant, lady). They lived in a big pink house on the opposite cliff and were allowed to wander at will around the hamlet. They made a tour of all the houses every morning and were most affable.
Cadi (on the beach)
Mali (on his rounds, at my front door)Their compatriot was a little brown chap of indeterminate origin (but with a truly majestic tail) named Bobby, unfortunately I don't have a picture of him. The three were really quite comical. All very sociable, and at 10.00am sharp every day they would trot off to the end of the hamlet to await the bus. The driver always had a biscuit for them. At 10.30am they moved on a little further to greet the arrival of the postman, who was also armed with a supply of biscuits. How I envy their lifestyle. I also enjoyed meeting a lovely young lady, a whippet named Rowley, who was holidaying with her partners from Henley-on-Thames. She was very sparky and fun to play with on the beach.
Just after lunch-time we were joined in our cottage by my partner's parents, along with her brother, sister-in-law and little Ewan. I was most relieved to see that they had performed their journeys without incident. Following an afternoon of football in the garden and a little bit of sandcastle-construction on the beach with Ewan, my partner and I took a simply delightful walk over the cliffs in the evening. I share with you now some pictures from this. Witness heaven on earth:
Good night.
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