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Fox poo, eating little men, modelling careers and dreaming

Hmm - to post a photo or not to post a photo ... now I've got you worried.

You don't want a picture of fox poo. Really? Fox poo smeared all over Bertie Baggins's front legs, up the right side of his chest and spread thickly behind and sneaking under his right ear. No? The same fox poo that had us running out of the kitchen and eating breakfast with our noses firmly pressed into fists full of sleeve. The same fox poo that proved remarkably resistant to wiping off and only gave up its mission to cling on, when attacked with a car wash brush, its hose attachment reservoir filled with dog shampoo. Sure you don't want to see it? To see a picture of a remarkably happy, dirty, stinking pup. Okay. I didn't take one anyway.

So, what would you like a picture of? How about little brown men? Apart from the purchase of cardamon seeds, instructions re oven use and the washing-up of a few utensils, I cannot claim any significant part in their  manufacture. Eldest and Littlest had a lovely time. And, if the bathroom door-handle is any indicator, an exceedingly sticky time. Mmmm ...


Sticky times got stickier and a lot noisier when Four-Legged-Friend helped himself to an entire family of small ladies and gents. The same FLF who has secured a modelling contract, along with his gold coloured shadow.
Watch this space for the story of their day in front of the camera lens ... with a photographer who apparently dislikes dogs. And the product to be advertised: heated dog beds!!! Dog beds!! For my we-destroy-all-beds-that-are-not-made-of-newspaper dogs. Hmmm ... could be an "interesting" day.

On the subject of interesting days - or, possibly busy, unrealistic, incredibly frustrating and that's-never-going-to-happen days - I've gone and done it again! (Please excuse the poverty of my English grammar) To be precise, I've set myself up for another year of resolution failure.

What are the dreams I dream for 2013?

To publish - something, anything - and continue to write (achievable? Maybe. I hope so.)

To learn some basic, conversational Italian, before our summer holiday (achievable? If I can find the CDs and remember to put them in the car, possibly.)

To raise some money for charity by taking a grade 1 exam ... on Eldest's viola. Have I ever played a stringed instrument? No! Can I read music? Not really! (achievable? ... Are you laughing at me? Go on make me cross! Spur me on with your sniggers. Actually, I know you're all far too kind-hearted for that, so I had better blog my progress ... or perhaps, my lack of progress. I've got the getting-it-out-of-its-case bit licked; holding it under my chin gives me a sore shoulder; the bow grip could do with being a bit less tortured-claw like; but the sound I make is sometimes in tune. And I only started on Wednesday! Eldest will give me a lesson most weekends. And I'm resolved to practice only when the house is empty. That way there's no-one else here ... to hear the dogs howling).




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