Worst. Blogger. Ever.

Yes thats correct in the Adam’s Blogging Awards Im giving myself the title of worst ever blogger.

A good blogger is someone who actually posts. I gave myself the goal of something like 500 words a week. Im not posting it am I. I need to do better, so Im working on some features. You know, something that runs as a feature, something I will keep in mind every day. Remember back in the day I used to post several times a week? Its hilarious to think that I ever had the time to do that. These days I do nothing. I have sat in this lunchtime awaiting an e mail. No e mail showed up. I should have ran, but I didnt want to miss it if it showed up. Hopeless.

I happily put it off as I fell to the floor like a useless lump yesterday when walking the dog.She was so excited by it, or perhaps it was canine concern, but having her scratch my scalp was really like salt in the wounds. My hip is a touch sore as a result, but I need the cardio so I will be running home this evening. Groan.

The weekend was uneventful. I went to see my fellow Out of Officers Friday night for a planning meeting. I ended up getting a bit drunk, which was nice for me, but I fear I was as cringeworthy as someone playing drunk in a Richard Curtis movie. I made a Cherry Bakewell Bundt to take to the occasion which was awesome. My friend Sally said she had used the recipe, a Dolly Bakes one, and once anything completely chocka with almonds is mentioned, im in. And it was fantastic. Bundts look great as the tin does the work for you, and when you are baking mid week, post run, during a period of restricted diet and low calorie intake, you dont want to be faffing around on a cake you are going to feel guilty for eating in any event.

Saturday was a day of lying in, getting up, bit of pottering followed by taking Daphne to the groomers. Upon arrival at the groomers, I saw a dog pegging it up the road.now any dog lover will understand that it’s impossible to ignore a dog loose on the street. Especially a busy intersection in Hillsborough on match day. I couldn’t. I just can’t ignore it. Do I believe in Karma? I don’t know if I do, life is never that reciprocal. But I have a dog, and I think in these situations do unto others and all that. I spoke to another man, who told me the dog had been hit by a car. I went into action. I managed to catch up with the dog who another couple had gotten hold of. No visible owner in sight. A girl pulled up and said she would take her and look after her, with a strategy involving Facebook which I didn’t really understand. I mean, if the dog wasn’t owned by one of her Facebook friends, what next? So I took charge.

I called my friend Rob who runs the local PDSA hospital. He told me my thought process was right. I took her to the PDSA, who ok’d her. She snuggled up to Pete and I all the way to the hospital and in the waiting room sat with her head in my lap the whole time. So cute. The result I was happiest with was the fact she was microchipped. I felt happiest of all that she wasn’t going to be left in the kennels for too long hopefully.

I went off to Costco, in the process I have developed a massive love for bulk buying. Personally, why buy 16 loo rolls for £6 when you can get 40 for £10? I felt quite emotional the whole time about the poor girl. As we left, the groomers called me to say Daphne was ready. We picked her , and as I walked back to the car, a man ran up to me to ask me if I had seen a blue Staffy. I told him yes, and where she was. He asked me to go and tell her owner. I actually began to worry. You may wonder why, but it’s a fear I had that perhaps they would think I had interfered, possibly incurred a vet bill, somehow stuck my neck in. He was not at all angry. He was amazed at what I had done, grateful, concerned about his dog and relieved we had met so he could thank me. I never found out the dogs name sadly, but I hope very much she was in her own bed Saturday night.

Sunday we made introductions between Daphne and my friend Paul’s dog Charlie. The reason being that Pete and I plan to go to Manchester for a night out and need a sitter. Relief spread over us that they got on. A lot of peacock parading for a bit, followed by play, followed by individual lazing or playing with toys, followed by Charlie reminding Daphne they were hers by taking them off her. Poor Daphne. We are cleared for night out! Whoop whoop!,

I did try to curry favour with a lemon drizzle. Totes worked.

I’m looking forward to going out. I have new shoes to wear. And a new shirt. Had nowhere to wear them before. Bring it on. Friends will be there too, will be nice to feel youngish again. I mean, not young. I’m old. But rather a bit younger than I feel when my weekends are cleaning, dog duties, groceries and baking and preserving. A touch younger that that would be nice.

But I love my domestic bliss days. I mean, just look at my little family of 3. How gorgeous are these 2. I let the side down, I really do. They are lovely.

I’m so lucky.

Right, I’m off to bed. Downside of 35 is looking like crap at all times. Damage limitation is all I can achieve. Must reduce dark bags under these eyes. Friday night is dog can sleep upstairs night too. I love it.

Wish me luck as I head to Manchester and party with young ‘uns. I’m charging my phone to Shazam the songs I’ve never heard which the youths sing along to.

I’ll come back to you all with tales in due course. Tho I hope it more than “it’s not as cheap as Dempseys”. Although I’m sure it won’t be.

Blog later everyone. X

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