There are certain rules about what can be discussed over the family dinner table; dogs are a definite no-no as are the latest Covid statistics. Both are usually very boring especially for those who don’t hang around with the woofers. But we do love a debate so more often than not, my Mum will be the first to pose a question about one of life’s great mysteries. And so it was that we got on a conversation about how much of our personality do we inherit from our parents. Despite my belief that we are all born into our own individuality, having watched the puppies enter the world and grow, I can still see a lot of Tony in Callum. According to the man-child, we see what we want to see of ourselves or another in that person because we want the traits of the one we loved, continued. Thankfully the family ‘worry gene’ has eluded him so it’ll just be his Mum twisting her hanky as she waves goodbye and bon voyage tomorrow. The child becomes a man but a mum is always a mum.
The bar table is back. Yes, Callum took my pathetic effort at carpentry and redesigned it so it actually looks like a bar table and doesn’t wobble. With all this glorious sunshine January is bestowing on us, there’s nothing better to sit at with a post-run coffee over looking the budding garden. Actually I’m a little worried about the ‘budding’ bit as it’s far too early for any plantling to think about such things (that gene again) but darling Denis assures me all will be fine come the Spring. On this thought, he and I are going shopping tomorrow so we can start landscaping the pool area. Finally. There’s only so much one can do indoors before mind-numbing boredom sets in although I did make a quick trip to the Troc (second hand emporium) to get a desk stand but came out with a charming little cabinet instead. My newly-purchased meuble is now tucked beautifully against a corner wall and since it faces East, a Buddha sits serenely on top. Perhaps his calm aura might flow into the woofers and stop them ambushing anyone who dare walk past the gate.
Speaking of woofers, they have been a little agitated over the last few nights – something is creeping around below the garden staircase. A couple of evenings ago, I was having my usual chat with Tony and Pop up there in the stars before locking up when I heard ‘it’. ‘It’ was trying to open the little gate. I grabbed my torch and pointed it at the intruder but whatever ‘it’ was, was gone. Luckily none of the woofers had been alerted to my mild hysteria at being broken into, that is until sometime during the wee hours and all wee hours since, becoming the time to suddenly jump out of bed and bark. But ‘it’ isn’t anywhere to be seen and frankly, I’m getting a little cranky over all this nocturnal activity. Perhaps the hedgehogs have got as confused about the weather as the plants have? Mind you, ‘it’ must have been a flippin’ strong hedgehog to push that gate.
I know what tonight’s dinner debate is going to be…..
“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other” ( Charles Dickens)
Widow plus woofs 