Signs of Spring

This is how things were looking on our walk this morning.

Well, actually this one was taken last week.

 

Cat's teeth!

Borrowed from Elder Daughter (and not beyond the bounds of possibility!)

So disappointing!

Oh the wickedness of it! The callous disregard for Keith's delirious expectations of a day watching Formula One on Sky!

The awful truth of the matter is that, in spite of Keith's ticking off the minutes since stupid o'clock this morning, in eager anticipation of an early visit from Santa Claus the Sky man, as yet, no human being has  approached our doorstep, except for the two deliveries of lovely Mother's Day flowers, sent by Elder and Younger Daughter, which only served to compound his agony. The 'window' for installation was between 8am and 2pm and regrettably, the unfortunate employee of Sky has, as yet, failed to appear. He has 25 minutes before Keith instantaneously combusts.

Does he appreciate, I wonder, the scene of distraught hand-wringing and groaning in the living room chez Jennyta?

Does he understand that he is taking his life in his hands with ever-increasingly disastrous consequences when he does eventually appear?

Has the realisation of all this caused him to head for the hills, never to be seen again?

Formula One

Keith has not been happy these past few weeks, no, not because of anything I've done, but because SOMEONE decided that, for the next few years, Formula 1 coverage should be almost entirely on a special, dedicated channel under the auspices of Sky. Now, I can live with that. In fact, unknown to Keith, I was dancing for joy at the thought of not having to be subjected to endless, boring hours of kids in cars going round and round as fast as they can. For me, the pleasure of watching that sort of drivel entertainment, is not just limited, but totally, absolutely, definitely non-existent. Still, each to their own. Keith maintains a studied indifference, nay contempt for Emmerdale and Coronation Street (and these days, he could be right) but he still surreptitiously watches them if they're on.
Anyway, at the beginning of the week, his pain was almost palpable, as was his moaning, so I heroically suggested that maybe it was time to return to being Sky customers. I did also point out to him that I am actually not in favour of contributing any further to Rupert Murdoch's coffers, so my suggestion was purely because I couldn't stand any more moaning altruistic but, before I could draw breath, he was on the phone, had sorted out the package and arranged installation at the first available millisecond, which is some time tomorrow morning. So now, the moaning is all about how he is missing the practice sessions, which is, in effect, extra hours of boy racers hurtling round and round, so I'm not sympathetic at all on that score.
Tomorrow, I think Paddy and Jake might be getting some extremely long walks!

Walkies

I generally take Paddy and Jake for their walks separately. This has two benefits:

1. It means that I am not being torn in two by Paddy racing ahead and Jake 'hoovering' every inch of the ground in ever decreasing circles.
2. I get twice the exercise, which has got to have some benefits some time - hopefully.

Paddy has been a challenge to walk ever since we got him. It starts before I open the front door, with me requiring him to sit and him reluctantly complying with a heartfelt groan. (Have you ever heard a dog groan? Nor me, till we got him!) I open the door and then we have the tussle over how long it's going to take for him to sit and wait for me to go out first and then allow him to follow. 

The next potential problem happens if we see a squirrel, rabbit or cat, which sets his mood for the walk and means that it's a struggle all the way. When he is in a pulling mood, there is constant stopping, waiting for him to focus again before continuing the walk and then repeating the process a little further on until he eventually gets the message - "We're not going to get very far unless I get my act together and start walking properly."

If we meet another dog, I've found that it usually helps if I pull him to the side and wait until the other one has passed. Otherwise, the chances are that he'll think it's playtime, which doesn't always go down well with the other dog's owner. 

Jake, on the other hand, is a breeze. Ignores cats and all other forms of life met along the way. He's far more interested in all the fascinating smells, which does tend to slow us down rather as he insists on hoovering up every single one. His delight in all these olfactory stimuli is palpable. If I meet any other dog owner with him in tow, I need take no evasive action, I can pass the time of day or stop and chat if the occasion demands it, secure in the knowledge that Jake will wait patiently, nose to the ground, until all the nearby smells are tucked away in his little brain. 

Back home, however, the drill is the same for both - out for the count!

Steam cleaning

You can tell from the title that this post is going to riveting in its interestingness, can't you? Yesterday, the postman brought me this.

It's a steam cleaner and I bought it so that it would magically restore every bit of the house to its original pristine condition, having been cunningly seduced into the belief that no home is complete without one.

So far, I've used it on the hard floors - good,

and the grubby bits on the arms of the sofa and on the pouffe - not much difference, but I am hoping that with a squirt of 'One thousand and one' that result will be improved. 

"It doesn't really clean," said someone I was talking to about it the other day, "but it freshens things up."

Why would you want it if it doesn't clean? I asked myself, but I had already ordered it by then.

Anyway, we will see. I suspect the greatest challenge will be for me to be motivated enough to actually use it! 

Well, cleaning is not the most fascinating way of passing one's time, is it?

On a more interesting note (for me, anyway), I have been sent my first certificate for my Welsh course. My first ten weeks have earned me 2 credits at level one. It's a start. I'll be the new weather girl on S4C before you know it.

In trouble

Thursday morning is when Jenny goes to her welsh class. We got a quick march round the block and by just after eight o'clock, she had gone to her class and Keith had driven off in his van.

We were left alone...

But soon, she'll be coming back and she won't be pleased. Only yesterday I heard her saying how good it was that Jake had stopped having 'little accidents', which shows that he has finally settled down here. Well, maybe he has, but this morning we seem to have had a hiccup and there is a puddle and a mess in the dining room.

The other thing is that, although we KNOW we're not supposed to do it, when the humans are out, we like to lie on the back of the armchair in the window and watch the world go by - only this morning, we were watching the orange cat from across the road go by and I got a bit excited, as any self-respecting terrier would, of course. So the throw is now on the floor instead of on the chair and the cushion is looking a right mess.

Looks like we're going to be in trouble again...