Out and About

Really, this is not a good place for a whippet to live. Hares everywhere. Everywhere! A chap goes for a walk and first he spots one just a few feet away on the track, cleaning its whiskers if you please and ignoring the imminent threat. Well, it would be a threat if Mummy would only leave me alone. No sooner had I been dragged away from that one than another appeared in front of me, right in front of me! I pulled, I really did, but I got shouted at and yanked back, and before I knew it we were home again. If whippets could talk. So I took him back to his favourite place, twice yesterday, and twice today to compensate. The heat really got to him, and he didn't do much running until the cool of the evening when he got his bounce back and made up for the sluggish mornings. Pity I lost the lead this morning. It must have fallen out of my pocket as I took photo after photo, and I thought someone might have found it and left it in the car park for me, but no. Thieving load of buggers there be around Cransford. Anyway, I've recorded our favourite walk, all 40 minutes of it, on one of the hottest days of the year when everything was looking wonderful.

Empty car park as usual

The first path

View to the left

View to the right

This way? Not today

The path continues

Hugo waits to see if I'm coming

And on ...

Through the woods

Up the hill ...

Into a clearing ...

More woods

Enticing path

Hugo miles ahead now

Sniffing for rabbits

Or anything really

We had a very enjoyable lunch and afternoon of bridge at Judy and David's yesterday, Hugo blissfully at home as Judy loves him and lets him have the run of the house and garden. I carefully dispatched his doings on the lawn with a stout stick into a coppice in the bsence of a handy bag. Nobody saw. The morning and evening, and most of today, were spent in the garden, trying to catch up on all the jobs I have to do before I can do the jobs I want to do. I had a slight panic when I thought I'd never be able to get it done by myself. Like the pond which I had to finish, building the path has taken its toll and I was very tired by the time I collapsed in front of the TV at 9.30 after a very later supper, whippet by my side on the sofa and nearly pushing me off. There's a lot of garden to do. But today I have finished all of the power hosing, including the summerhouse area, and I've dug the holes for the dahlias and planted two of the big pink ones. I've taken the tulip bulbs out of the pots to replant in the autumn, and tomorrow will put bright red, brick red geraniums in their place. Really, that's it now. I'll mow and clip edges and weed and plant and tweak and pither, but that's the end of the major structural things. Yippee!

Well, the path still needs a bit of attention. Let me make this clear: I am no Isambard. No engineering or mathematics or even basic calculations went into the making of the thing. I dug and raked and removed an awful lot of roots from the two elders that still occupy the spot but only in the form of bench props. They are still alive though. Their roots are many. It was a much bigger job than I anticipated, and it is not the levellest, the most level path ever. I guessed the depths and heights needed and forged ahead. It's not a good tactic, but alas it has always been mine. Two bricks will have to come up and be settled a bit deeper before somebody trips up on their edges. But I'm pretty chuffed. Once there are lovely things growing around it you'll never notice the faults.

My black friend, my boy, is fast asleep in his bed. He's so beautiful I keep being distracted by him. Friday's potential disaster has been averted thanks to Ruth, who will also have him for several of the Aldeburgh Festival gigs I have to be at. Sammy will take over once her builders have finished work on the house. All will be well, and all will be well. Thanks Julian of Norwich and all my friends. Night John Boy.