"for the happy, the sad, I don't want to be, another page in your diary"

Friday 21 December 2018

Bring On The Druids

MD comes up on my Facebook as a cute puppy, ten years ago. Although not exactly ten years ago because the photo was taken on a beach in Norfolk just before he erased most of his cuteness by chasing a little girl across the beach.

Back to the present day and tension mounts on Dog TV with the Lad chewing on a bottle of shower gel. Hands up who forgot to follow the house rules and remove all bathroom items from the Lad’s reach? Clue - it wasn’t me. I add shower gel to this week's shopping list.

Monday is the Dog Club’s Christmas Meal but I’ve had to take a rain check on that because Derby are playing Nottingham Forest. Yes, on a Monday night. Thanks for that Sky TV. Everyone is well pissed off about it as this local derby is normally a full day of merriment for many. I hope all the viewers enjoyed the 0-0 draw.

Tuesday’s final dog class of the year is on. The dodgy lighting seems to have been fixed or at least have dried out. No scrub that, it’s raining again.

While all the attention centres on what the Lad is up on Dog TV, I’ve yet to see MD get out of bed. I did see him have a good bark at something but he didn’t get out of bed to do it. Then suddenly we notice that they've swapped beds but no one saw it actually happen.

I submit our entries for next year’s Great North Run and notice a new question on the entry form ‘I wish to be included in the non-binary gender category for this event Y/N’. I am tempted to say yes, in case there’s chance of winning the category. I wonder if there’s a trophy.

Wednesday is our final pizza of the year or rather it isn’t because The Yard is closed for a private party. So we go in the nearby The Merlin instead. I’ve not been in there before and now I know why.

I’m out in Derby later for a few pints in the Brunswick while L is at her Mum’s, so she kindly picks me up afterwards.

Thursdays is our final squash game of the year and L’s final tennis. 

My squash opponent informs me that tomorrow is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, and something they oddly always celebrate as if they were druids or something. This is the day when traditionally cattle were slaughtered so the animals did not need to be fed through the winter and when the beer that had been made during the summer had finally fermented and was ready to drink.

I tell him that we will join in the celebration. Perhaps not with a slaughtering but I might open a beer. First though I pop to the gym for a quickie. 

(Friday 21st December)

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