It was too warm last night to light the fire, and anyway, we had had a good dinner of roast beef with wow-wow sauce, spuds and green beans. Possibly it was the impact of this meal that gave both Sheila and I a bit of a rough night for starters, but in addition, at around half three, Sally started whining. At first, I thought that she was just trying it on to get some company, but after quite a while, and after it had woken Sheila, we realised that things must not be right with her.
The poor tender little wuss was cold.
There was nothing for it but to let her into our bedroom, and therefore onto our bed. With a happy sigh, she soon settled down and was both whiffling and dreaming away. This meant, of course, that we got the benefit of the twitching limbs and strange noises, but we did eventually manage to doze off again.
We're looking forward to tonight, when she'll be back with Elanor overnight, and just coming to us for the day. As it is, we're getting a lot more exercise than usual.
The high spot of the day was checking out some photos of the Open Day and Owners' Weekend taken by Graham Johnson of Priscilla last month. One in particular has been captioned "Wilson, Keppel and Betty"; I've been haunted all day by an image of the two men concerned, Peter Mason, who's 6' 4", and Des Barnard, who's a good deal shorter, dressed in white sheets and fezzes and shuffling around to the strains of The Old Bazaar In Cairo.
Maybe next year we need to have a party pieces session at the Owners' Weekend…
/wahaha
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