All ready for
All ready for pilgrimage!
Coast Path, Devon. I thought I’d got this one the right way up just now; never mind – it was some walk!
Arrival at Exeter Cathedral.
Since then, we’ve had the drama of the dog and the nectarine stone, I’ve spent a fortune at the dentist (only I could manage to break a tooth on a Greenbelt bacon butty), the gippy festival tum is under control,the eye infection is getting that way. You’d not guess from all that griping that I actually had a Good Time, would you, but – don’t faint – I did!
And now? Several new challenges for the autumn – all very exciting in my usual quiet, Miffyesque kind of way. Keep Calm And Carry On.
Ehrm. I’ve been away too long. It doesn’t seem to want to publish links. OK – see my Growing Greenpatches blog for my Greenbelt musings.
Here’s hoping I’m not banned from the wibsite for featuring this little menagerie: Firstly, Miffy Jnr, sporting his very first moustache, in aid of the Movember mens’ health initiative.
Second up – our two resident hairy horrors: Miffcat in one of her (many) snoozing places – the dog’s kingsize bed; her humble servant and subject, Miffdog squeezed into second class accommodation nearby.
I’ll spare you the sight of HH number three – Mr M’s beard. It wouldn’t be fair.
…that wand’r wild and free…
…at times I was taken back years to when the children were small; sitting there trying to mouth ‘For the Beauty of The Earth’ and ‘Morning has Broken’ whilst keeping an inquisitive, wriggly Fido with the attention span of a gnat from misbehaving, fidgeting, and generally ‘showing us up’ was a salutary reminder of what life used to be like every time I went to church. At the point when we were asked to hold and pray for our pets, I was bent down busily trying to remove congealed bits of half-eaten doggie treats from under the pew and untangle the lead from round us both.
Read about what happened when I took Miffdog to church, over on my other blog.
Walking Miffdog just now, it struck me that we’re both singing from the same hymnsheet.
The Ship has a great thread on ‘earworms’ at the moment. My latest is Beethoven’s Creation’s Hymn, ‘To God eternal the heavens utter glory,’ which the choir I sing in used in concert last Saturday. (Umpteen versions to listen to on Youtube; can’t get links to work on here this morning). Sadly, Mr M does not appreciate either my tuneful whistling or the dog’s meliflous tenor barking first thing in the morning. Come to think of it, I don’t exactly fancy our resident Pavarotti warming up either, but that’s beside the point.
So, out to the park we go. If you’re a dog owner, especially owner of a scent hound, you’ll know that walking them is a sloooooooooowwwwwwww process indeed. It’s not unlike being with a toddler. You (or rather the dog) stop to sniff every lamppost, investigate every piece of shrubbery, explore unknown and (to you) unsniffable pongs. Though my sense of smell seems to be particularly acute just now; I love strolling along taking in the scent of flowering shrubs and blossom. I just operates at a higher level than Miffdog; his view of creation is definitely more earthy, basic, and nearer to the ground. (Besides which, if I walked round the neighbourhood with nose to the ground and bottom up in the air, I might just end up being arrested!).
Still, anyoldhow, here we are: him where he is, and Yours Truly where she is, humming away in happy harmony; Creation’s Hymn. I love it.
Rats, Sydney the Swan and PBGVs spotted on the Havenstreet Railway: I was obviously beginning to display signs of a ‘Seabirding’ vocation even then.
We had a happy encounter last night, Miffdog and I. I love the randomness of life! There we were pottering round the block when a car drew up, a total stranger leapt out and said hello. Why? Turns out one of her dogs is the same breed as MD! And lives locally. “So what?” you might ask. Well if you’ve a common or garden Fido, I can see where you’re coming from. MD and TS’s however, are a still comparatively uncommon breed; breeder’s dogs apart, I’ve only ever met one other near us and that was visiting. So you can see why we were so delighted. It’s rather like having a Reliant van – minus the naff factor. (Believe me, I’ve been there, worn the tee-shirt, achieved closure…I think. ;)) We are an elite: a league of eccentrics, the society of comic canines. As evidenced by their names: Ours is named after a drink, TS’s after a certain flying ace.
The two Bees… Buzz, buzz!
Woken at 6.30 a.m. by Miffdog giving out the sort of pathetic whistles and bleeps that either mean “Help, help – I’m about to burst!”, “Help, Help, I’m starving,” or “There is an intruder on our territory; vengeance is mine!” This last is usually one of the local moggies. They always escape and I’m sure our neighbours are highly entertained by the sight of Topcat doing an assault course over our 6 ft plus fencing to the accompaniment of the canine equivalent of the intro to Rossini’s William Tell Overture…not. Hence I didn’t dare let him out onto the lawn. However, when by 9 a.m. we’d heard more Bleeps than an archive episode of Blue Peter’s ‘Bleep and Booster,’ (remember them, anybody?), I gave in, and a hairy fury shot out into the Miffy estate and practically hoovered the lawn with his nose. There was no sign of Topcat but some tell-tale flurries of feathers on the path, so when, ten minutes later I heard a crash and triumphant scufflings from Miffdog, I rushed back outside, but, as I suspected, it was too late; I’m afraid he’d finished off what M le Moggie had started. Ewww! To be honest, it was probably a merciful release. Our neighbourhood pidgeons often seem to have even more lives than the one of Dick Dastardly fame but sometimes their luck runs out. Though come to think of it, Miffdog does bear a fleeting resemblance to Muttley. Anyoldhow, I didn’t fancy my breakfast one bit after that.*
On a more pleasant note, over on his cycle blog Mr Miff has been doing some catching up on our doings, including our late May bank holiday stay in Sherborne for the Tour of Wessex Cyclosportive.. Do pop over to our other blogs and read all about it. We had a great weekend; Mr Miff reaching gold standard in the three day marathon. Meantime, I had an equally good time – if more relaxing time pottering round Sherborne, including visits to the Abbey – celebrating the 1300th anniversary of its founding Saint, Aldhelm – from all accounts the party animal of ancient Wessex, (well, you have to allow me my little exaggeration!) and just generally chilling.
You’ll also be rejoiced to learn that I resisted the lure of the charity shops, and did not come back home with a large, wooden statue of St Francis and a birdbath. Note, ‘and,’ not ‘in!’
p.s. Mr M has steam cleaned the path since. My hero!