Welsh logic

I found an email in my inbox this evening from one of the organisations that sometimes send me clients for counselling. The gist of the email was that the sender had been 'tasked' with finding out who among their affiliate counsellors could speak welsh fluently enough to counsel in welsh. OK so far but the next bit requested me not to reply to the email if I was not a welsh speaker, 'in order to reduce the number of emails coming back'.
I don't think I have ever before been asked a question  and then told not to answer it unless the answer was yes.
Also, I think that maybe the lady's inbox will not be as overflowing as she expects it to be.

Trying, but not hard enough

You know, the last few weeks have been tough for me. I can't lie on the back of the chair looking through the window any more, in case I catch sight of a cat and start getting excited, I can't creep onto the bed halfway through the night any more and I have to wait at the door and let Jenny or Keith go through first, before me. AND I have to walk on my lead without pulling and be nice and polite to any passing dogs.
Today, I was let out into the garden to do - well, what well brought up dogs do first thing in the morning when they are let out - and, although the garden is now like a quagmire after all the rain for weeks and weeks, I had a bit of a stroll around, just to check that there were no squirrels or cats around.
Now, could I help it if there was a strong suspicion of the presence of next door's cat on the other side of the fence? What is a dog supposed to do? Even I can't see through wood, so to my mind, it's reasonable to dig a hole under the fence.
But this time, I didn't get the chance. Before I knew where I was, I could hear Jenny yelling at me (and believe me, it was not very ladylike!) and I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck and fast-forwarded into the house. I don't think she was very happy with me.
We dogs are very intuitive...
And that Amanda's coming again tomorrow for another lesson. (Sigh!)

Bell's whisky

There is an interesting advert on TV at the moment for Bell's whisky involving teaching a dog to play the bagpipes.
"See that, Paddy?" I said to the small brown canine lying on his cushion near the television. "How about you having a go at that?"
No reaction.
"After all," I continued, "You are half Border Terrier, so your ancestors are from the area near Scotland.. It should be in your genes, boy!"
Still no reaction. He's not even looking at the advert!
Seems we still have a long way to go with this training lark...

Driving

Why, oh why is it that whenever a car is trying to force its way up your exhaust pipe, the chances are overwhelmingly that it's a BMW? What happens to ordinary human beings when they seat themselves behind the wheel of a BMW? Is a BMW driver a normal, happy little soul who is transformed into a rampaging bundle of road rage and fury by virtue of turning the key in the ignition or is it just that rampaging bundles of road rage and fury are the only people who drive BMWs as their car of choice? Does a BMW play a subliminal message to the driver?
"The road really does belong to you. No-one, but no-one has a right to be in front of you, my friend."
I met my usual quota of BMW road hogs on Friday when I drove down to Bristol. However, lest you should suspect that I am in danger of becoming slightly biased against BMW drivers, this weekend's 'Pig of the Road' award goes to a female driver of a dark blue Renault Clio in the environs of Bristol.
Yes, you dear.
Congratulations on:
a)  pulling out of a side road right in front of me
b) rummaging in your handbag whilst chatting to your passenger at the lights
c) deciding to drive through the red light as you hadn't noticed it turn green in time due to b)
d) weaving a clever pattern up the road as you zipped cleverly from one lane to the other and then back again.
Hope I don't meet up with you again!

Templates!

I did it again.
 I obviously have a low boredom threshold but every so often I decide I would like the old blog to look different and I start trawling through the internet looking for new templates. This time I remembered to back up the original first, saved my links etc and then spent hours like a kid in a sweet shop browsing through hundreds of templates, before choosing and downloading a few promising ones.
Unfortunately, none of them worked as I wanted them to and some wouldn't even upload so this afternoon has been frittered away trying, failing, panicking and finally, putting the old template back and reloading my links.
Keith will be delighted to have missed this. He has all too vivid memories of the agonies I used to put myself through when Blogger was less amenable to being messed about with than it is now.
Ah well, that's enough for today. Maybe I'll have another go another time.
Maybe I'll even manage to do it successfully!
(Maybe pigs will fly.)

Digital telly part deux

BT engineer arrived.
Old box out.
New box in.
105 channels found immediately.
Sorted!

Digital telly

December 2nd has come and gone.
So what? I hear you ask.
Well, that was the date for digital switchover for the Granada region. Now we are not actually in the Granada region but for some reason known only to the 'experts' that is where our strongest digital signal comes from. When we had Sky, we could access BBC Wales, but since switching to BT Vision (cheaper package, does all we need), our 'local' BBC news comes from Granada or, again for some mysterious reason, more recently from Midland.
Anyway, on 2nd December, we had to reset our Vision box but, unfortunately, for some reason, we found ourselves with only a handful of channels, NOT including ITV1 and with poor reception to boot. Keith covered his ears and braced himself for my ululations at the prospect of being deprived of Emmerdale and Corrie, but I bravely picked up the phone and dialled the number for Digital Switchover Problems shown on the BT Vision website.
This number gives you access to the Digital helpline - a rather loose and inaccurate description, in my experience; nothing at all like the friendly little alien in their commercials. I have spoken to them twice now and have been abruptly told to
a) have  the aerial checked (We did, there's nothing wrong with it.)
b) refer to the manufacturers of the BT Vision box. (What??)
Any little old ladies requiring help with retuning their televisions will be sadly disappointed if they ring the Digital helpline, I can assure you.
So, on then to BT themselves. A Scottish lady took me through various procedures, all of which we and the aerial engineer had already tried, but hey, it was in her script so she had to follow it, all to no avail. I kept telling her that an engineer had checked the aerial and had tried himself to reset the box, but still she kept on.
So now, a BT engineer will call tomorrow afternoon, probably to replace our box with one that works properly but Scottish lady still found it necessary to end the conversation with the following ominous threat:
"If he finds that your aerial is at fault, you will be charged £115 pounds call-out!"
Did she listen to anything I said?