The saga of what to call our Cockapoo puppy continued. Yesterday she had the name Elsie for 7 hours. That changed to Molly for 4 hours. The list of possible names is endless, but finally after a second family meeting in the evening it was decided to call her Millie. That’s it now no more changes.
Please meet Millie.
Back in 1969, as a pimply teenager, I used to run a disco on a Thursday night in the village community centre. I was dating the Extreme Knitter at the time, but because she lived 16 miles away and it was a school night, she wasn’t able to come over, so at 10pm every Thursday night I always played our song for her.
Stevie Wonders “My Cherie Amour”.
We celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary this year and I’m going through my mid life crisis (Yes, I plan to live to 126 years old). I started to realise that there is so much we haven’t done or experienced.
I decide I didn’t want to die without having a tattoo. Anyone that knows me will be shocked, because all my life I have been anti tattoo and I could never understand why people would disfigure themselves.
I took a giant risk and didn’t tell the Extreme knitter that I was having one. With help from my Grandson the deed was done.
Here is the result on my upper arm.
“Are you still together” I hear you ask.
After the initial shock at the unveiling and needing to have sit down, she loved it.
I don’t know what I would have done if she didn’t.
Onward to the next adventure.
I’ve mentioned many times on this blog about the annoying problem of complete strangers (mainly Men) making comments about our Yorkshire Terrier, Ruby.
I admit that we probably look odd, a large man with a very small dog,
It’s usually when I’m stood outside a shop with Ruby on her lead and they walk by making comments like “Is that a rat” or “my dog would eat that for breakfast” It’s irritating that they are dumb enough to think they are the first ones to have ever said that and expect you to find it funny.
I would love to be able to come back with a quick of the cuff reply, but I seem unable to think of anything suitable.
I’m making an appeal to my follower and any random visitors that accidently land on this site.
I want a short sharp retort that would put these Neanderthals swiftly in their place.
Sarcasm and humour are required, but remember that it has to meet the intelligence level of the perpetrator.
If you can help, please put your retort in the comments box.
No Swearing though.
Technology can prove to be a little confusing as the years pass by. I rely on my granddaughter to help and guide me through the pitfalls of the latest phones, tablets and gizmos.
She does it with a few tuts and raising of eyes, never quite understanding how it’s possible for anyone in this day and age to not know how to e mail a photo or Bluetooth a piece of music.
I thought that this photo caption was very apt.
The Extreme Knitter has now added Extreme Felter to her list of nicknames. I treated her to a one day felting workshop for her birthday as she has always wanted to try it.
The course was held at a cottage studio in Hatton, Warwick with six other beginners.
When I collected her she was pleased as punch with her felted figure of Ruby. I was amazed at the likeness and at her first attempt. I’m really proud of her because she seems to be able to turn her hand to anything.
She wants to book another workshop that will hone her detailing skills.
The course is run by Sophie Wheatley from “All things felt and beautiful” 07706279252
e mail : firstname.lastname@example.org
All things felt and beautiful
I was told that not only was the course inspiring and enjoyable, but it was complemented by a magnificent meal and desert. You would have thought I’d have had a doggy bag.
Unfortunately this photo doesn’t do justice to the texture of the figure that can be seen in real life.
I’m getting to point in my life when getting up in the morning takes on a routine of consuming various life enhancing tablets and adding bits of technology before the day could start.
My latest add on is a pair of hearing aids that I’m gradually getting used to.
I was listening to a lady on the radio when we were away in Malvern last weekend extolling the amazing benefits of hearing aids and how she could hear all the different bird songs since she started wearing them.
It is correct that using them opens up a whole vista of sounds that you didn’t realise had faded away from your life.
I had a similar revelation to the lady on the radio, but mine was not hearing the sweet bird song.
I put my hearing aids in today and heard Ruby Fart for the first time. I had known that she has Farted all the five years she has been with us, because she used to sit on my lap look up at me and then move away to another seat leaving me with the telltale stink.
I have never heard her before and just presumed that she did SBDs (silent but deadly).
The wonders of modern technology.
Today was the extreme knitter’s birthday and for a short period of time I have become her toy boy again.
In amongst her presents this year was a set of Cath Kidson racing knitting needles. Sleek, colour coded, lightweight anodised aluminium needles built for the more demanding speed knitter.
These are the equivalent of go faster stripes on the family saloon car.
When the extreme knitter gets into a comfortable knitting rhythm the needles become a flailing blur and the rapid clickity click is no more than white noise.
Life can be tiring living with an adrenaline seeking knitter.