For no apparent reason, we neither of us slept particularly well last night, and, of course, we had to be up and about at a reasonable time this morning, since it's Tuesday, and we're dog sitting. We pottered about until Sally arrived, checking email and the like, then in due course I took her for a run in the field.
Her kong type frisbee isn't coping with the monster's teeth very well, I'm afraid; it's still usable, but has a couple of rips near the rim already. It's the enthusiastic way she kills it on the way back with it, I guess.
Sally ran about with great verve, and even more so after her friends Katie and Ruby turned up, but I tried not to let her overdo it, as she'd had a long session on Cannock Chase on Sunday afternoon. The consequence is that dozing has rather been the order of the day since, Sally on her bed and we two in our spiffy reclining chairs, and that in turn leaves me with not a lot to write about.
Oh, except for the arrival and departure of a private helicopter, which landed on the peninsula where the pub is going to be built one day. I speculated that this is the latest service by one of the boat hire firms; arrive by plane at East Midlands airport, and get choppered to the marina.
/wahaha
I've caught up with the newspaper, Navvies and NABO News, the last two having been in the bundle of post delivered with the dog, and after lunch we took Sal for a gentle stroll round the marina.
I'm also half way through making stock from the chicken carcass from the weekend, which I plan to turn into mushroom soup shortly.
It's the last time we shall be dog sitting for a while; by next Tuesday we'll be on our way, at or near Handsacre, so I doubt that Elanor will want to drive out there just to leave the dog with us.
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