Walking The Dog

Snoring. Snoring - go on; say 'snoring.' And again. And again. Play with the word; roll it around your mouth - sno-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-rrrr-ring. Try it again. I defy you to do this without a tiny twitch appearing at the corner of your mouth. A tiny twitch plus a slight wrinkling of the skin at the outer angles of your eyes. Why is snoring funny? Why, for example, did I find it impossible to discuss snoring yesterday without smiling; in a professional situation where smiling was probably inappropriate? Snoring is funny. In the same way that everything about toilets is funny to a seven year old boy. It makes us smile; childishly. It's something only other people do; isn't it? It's funny! Unless you live with someone who snores. Or you are the snor-ee ... snor-er ... ? ... one who snores ... and live life in a permanent fog of day-time exhaustion. Snoring is not restricted to humans. Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins snore: they sprawl in front of the...

Anyone who knows me, or has read my blog posts before and has a feel for who I am, will look at that title and shake their head in disbelief, for I am no follower of fashion - unless it's the fashion of the gardener or dog-walker: slightly dishevelled, crumpled round the edges, wearing fraying jeans, shirts with no discernible remnant of shape, wellies and a little mud (on a good day ... a lot of mud, on every other day). But look carefully. For what I wrote was not 'follower of' fashion but 'respect for' fashion. I respect fashion. Not - as will be obvious to everyone - in the sense of acquisition and adornment of myself. For a start, I am short and un-fashionably rounded at the edges; soft and squishy and good for cuddling, I have been told. But in the artistic sense. I appreciate the artistic beauty of (most) fashion. And the industry and craft that prop up the big fashion houses. I am not referring to the near slavery that underpins and undermines the chea...