Friday, July 1, 2011

Boris

Woke up early this morning. About 5.30am (4.30 in the UK). Just getting light. Staggered downstairs and made a cuppa. Dogs bleary-eyed at the top of the stairs wondering why I'd got out of bed way before getting-up time. With curiosity getting the better of them, they slowly descended the stairs while the kettle was boiling. Stood by their bowls. Gave 'em fresh water and a few dog bics. Then they stood by the door. Let 'em out for a morning breather. Lovely fresh air before sunrise. Had a quiet wander round in my dressing gown then we all went back indoors. Dogs went back to bed, but I didn't. Once I'm up, I'm up. Switched on the laptop with the intention of replying to various chums' emails. Bean (bean? - er, 'beeeen') meaning to reply for ages. But, once again, didn't quite get around to it. Attention diverted by BBC news and sports websites. Then transferred some donkeys out of my Daily Telegraph fantasy cricket team (currently languishing in 5825th position) and replaced them with some proper players; an exercise that involved much studying of statistics and form. Such things keep an old man amused. Then decided to do a list of all the things I have to do. There are loads of 'em. Trouble is, I keep forgetting what they are. Hence the need for a list. Dug out a Biro and an old envelope and was just about to scrawl 'check dogs vet dates etc' when I suddenly realised I wasn't alone. A visitor had dropped in. Boris I call him. And he's a rather splendid chap. 'Course, if he's a her, she's Doris not Boris...