He's mad! He's mad! (Feb 24th 2007)
He puts on stupid hats.
He says really daft things. (In funny voices.)
He wears seriously silly trousers.
He drinks beer, but wees out twice as much as he's drunk.
He's diabetic but is addicted to chocolate.
He's a loony.
When we go walking if there's something to climb on, over, under or round, yep - he does it.
He'll jump across chasms, swim in lakes, climb up sheer rock faces. He's had a heart attack, but has that stopped him?
No!
How old is he? Well ... I ain't gonna say, but it's not young! (OK, he's not quite a wrinkly, yet!)
When we went to Loweswater he spent ages on a rope swing that went out over the lake.
A rope swing! We were so embarrassed.
Luckily, Loweswater is dead quiet and not many people stroll along it during a wet morning in February. Bl**dy good job.
I was wondering what was up, when we went past the usual car park for Crummock and the Kirkstile. He was off on a voyage of discovery. (Well, not really as he has been here since 1991, so he does know it pretty well, I'd guess.)
He was taking us on a voyage of discovery.
A circumnavigation of the faorementioned LW.
It's the piddling one of the three in the Lorton valley, and half of the round route is on the road, which is rotten, but I'm wandering off.
Io and I had not been here before and the new smells were brill. Lots of 'em. At first mainly scared sheepy type smells. But they're always blooming scared. Stupid creatures. Followed by damp stuff type smells. You know, damp leaves, trees grass - that sort of thing. Even the path had a damp dusty smell to it.
Then poohy type smells (sheep again). Then the water itself, it always smells nicer than the big flat stuff at the coast, and it tastes better, too!
He did the usual routine of getting us to sit on benches and snapped away. We're getting dab hands at that, you know. OK, this is a bridge, not a bench, but I'm sure there was a huge fish in there, somewhere.
Then, by the bothy, in the middle of the wood he found the swings.
Well, there was no getting him off them.
He was like a big kid. (He is a big kid!) I mean, look at him here!
We musta been there ages and ages.
Anyway, it turned out not to have been such a bad thing after all. As we got moving again it started to drizzle. Then it rained. Then it poured. Finally buckets of it. Luckily we hadn't even got out of the lake side wood!
Well, having lived like a local for so long he did what all the locals would do. He turned round and we went back to the car! If he'd not been on them swings for so long, we'd have been miles around the lake and probably looked like drowned rats when we got back to the car park.
His madness sometimes has method in it. (To miss quote Hamlet.) (I am an educated type of dog, you know.)
He says really daft things. (In funny voices.)
He wears seriously silly trousers.
He drinks beer, but wees out twice as much as he's drunk.
He's diabetic but is addicted to chocolate.
He's a loony.
When we go walking if there's something to climb on, over, under or round, yep - he does it.
He'll jump across chasms, swim in lakes, climb up sheer rock faces. He's had a heart attack, but has that stopped him?
No!
How old is he? Well ... I ain't gonna say, but it's not young! (OK, he's not quite a wrinkly, yet!)
When we went to Loweswater he spent ages on a rope swing that went out over the lake.
A rope swing! We were so embarrassed.
Luckily, Loweswater is dead quiet and not many people stroll along it during a wet morning in February. Bl**dy good job.
I was wondering what was up, when we went past the usual car park for Crummock and the Kirkstile. He was off on a voyage of discovery. (Well, not really as he has been here since 1991, so he does know it pretty well, I'd guess.)
He was taking us on a voyage of discovery.
A circumnavigation of the faorementioned LW.
It's the piddling one of the three in the Lorton valley, and half of the round route is on the road, which is rotten, but I'm wandering off.
Io and I had not been here before and the new smells were brill. Lots of 'em. At first mainly scared sheepy type smells. But they're always blooming scared. Stupid creatures. Followed by damp stuff type smells. You know, damp leaves, trees grass - that sort of thing. Even the path had a damp dusty smell to it.
Then poohy type smells (sheep again). Then the water itself, it always smells nicer than the big flat stuff at the coast, and it tastes better, too!
He did the usual routine of getting us to sit on benches and snapped away. We're getting dab hands at that, you know. OK, this is a bridge, not a bench, but I'm sure there was a huge fish in there, somewhere.
Then, by the bothy, in the middle of the wood he found the swings.
Well, there was no getting him off them.
He was like a big kid. (He is a big kid!) I mean, look at him here!
We musta been there ages and ages.
Anyway, it turned out not to have been such a bad thing after all. As we got moving again it started to drizzle. Then it rained. Then it poured. Finally buckets of it. Luckily we hadn't even got out of the lake side wood!
Well, having lived like a local for so long he did what all the locals would do. He turned round and we went back to the car! If he'd not been on them swings for so long, we'd have been miles around the lake and probably looked like drowned rats when we got back to the car park.
This is one of the sensible swings. The other was just a rope and a bit of branch. It didn't come out!
As it was we were able to turn up at the Kirkstile, looking fashionably dishevelled, in time for soup and a sandwich and a pint of Kirkstile Gold.
Io and I steamed ourselves in front of the fire.His madness sometimes has method in it. (To miss quote Hamlet.) (I am an educated type of dog, you know.)
posted by Maia [and Io] | 11:49 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home