Sitting in departures at Dalcross – such is the wonder of dongles! So far they haven’t twigged I’m related to THAT Mr Miller and I’ve managed to get through security without the obligatory rubber glove. On tenterhooks waiting for last minute bag search. “Did you pack the bag yourself?” “Er, yes.” “Are you carrying anything for anyone?” “Er, no.” At what point are the powers that be going to introduce the much needed question “Was there any point in your stay that your Mother could have obtained access to your bag and secreted in half a fruit cake, some black-pudding, home made marmalade and a quarter pound of midget gems?” MI5 please note.
The stresses of London have seemed very far away these last few days - AXPK90’s Morayshire health farm has done the trick yet again. Blustery walks on the beach with Monti by day and sound slumbering stuffed with sea air by night.
I’m not sure how sane it is to live your life vicariously through a Springer spaniel but the delight on M’s face as he chased ducks through the shallow waters of a nearby bird sanctuary was food for the soul. His attempt to doggy paddle the River Nairn in full spate was not though and anxious minutes were had until he hauled himself out of the fast current oblivious to concern and carrying the summer water supply to a small town in his coat. Not for long. (Wet dog x shake) + dry human = dry (happy) dog + wet (not happy) human.
AXPK90 was on form as usual and we had a lovely time just hanging out. Her habit of allocating possessions to individuals is becoming obsessive and one daren’t admire anything in the house without an “It’s yours - when I die!” Both she and M could do with a good ear syringing - I’m not sure if it’s a case of owner imitating dog or vice versa. In M’s case it’s definitely selective – not sure about AXPK90...
Reading: The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson
Listening to: Seagulls
* (c) Mi Hermana
