Free epamphlet for labrador lovers (and terrapins)

I have a free download this Grand National weekend for my latest bitesize memoir, about walking dogs in the East End of London.

This story includes my close encounter with terrapins in the ‘hood.

Click on the cover to download.

I’ll be back…

In the meantime I am leaving the blog being minded by these two lads. I like to call them the Mitchell Bruvvers.

Nobody make any sudden moves, alright?

Tramp

Jerry

One for the Labrador Massive

Not sure if they come round here much anymore, but if they do, they know who they are…

Chilling like villains

The worlds two shiniest Mitchell Brother dogs – on a chaise longue no less.

I wouldnt mind some of that myself right about now (the chaise longue, not Phil & Grant).

Another dog

I am holding onto today’s thoughts about the news that about 9% of children (the majority being boys) start secondary school with the reading age of an 7 year old. Don’t worry, I’ll let go of that particular volley in due course…

The reason for this is uncharacteristic circumspection is that there is a blog queue.

First up, and following on from the escaped Brazilian dog at the airport, this is a picture produced by the 6 year old for her esteemed and rather fun aunt, a recent visitor. We understand the masterpiece now decorates the walls of world domination at the epicentre of the universe that is Wray Barton.

This is Jerry

Jerry is the Senior Partner in the Wray Barton Wrecking Crew Labrador Division.

He has bragging and tennis ball rights which he exercises without  fear or favour.

He is so black and so labrador that he defies a quick snap in a rented kitchen – he demands a studio portrait.

Sorry mate.

He is actually awake, but is refusing to co-operate

This is Tramp

He is a black dog.  He is also a kneecapper if you are standing in his way in a doorway.  He is also a prodigious licker of plates and icing off cakes.  If you show him a sack of dog food he will jump into it up to his hairy elbows.  If you leave him with a sack of food he will eat himself to the very point of death.  If you don’t leave him with a sack of food I strongly suspect he will plot how to get hold of one anyway.

Anyway, as I said, this is Tramp: look into his eyes.

(Tomorrow, meet Jerry.  Jerry is a black dog…)

A Lady and Tramp

Sport, that thing I usually find most diverting and uplifting in life (well one of the things) just seems deeply disappointing to me at the moment. Is it just me? Am I viewing everything through the prism labelled “back to school”? It seems I cannot go a day without hearing some new depressing corruption or malign behaviour in so many sports. This is the evidence that suggests I am not entirely made of Eeyorish tendencies in this respect:-

# Harlequins has turned into a club for mutants
# Chelsea are still Chelsea but they have been exposed
# Millwall have reverted to their mad, bad ways
# Renault stands accused of ordering Nelson Piquet Jr to crash in Singapore to benefit the boy prince Alonso
# Caster Semenya’s gender trial has been conducted in the most cruel Roman way
# Arsenal are already driving me to distraction
# Man City are accused of tapping up too (whatever that is (I know, but it’s an odd term)).
# We have to endure another season of Sir Alex’s posturing
# As above except it’s Rafa’s bleating about the above
# Less than 24 hours after Usain Bolt’s historic 200m victory the pundits were saying he would make the  sport ”boring”
# We have diving, butting, stamping, shirt-pulling, elbows and teeth and great quantities of Colombia’s national crop going up hooters
# In fact, the only thing I can see that one might be uplifted by, is Andy Murray’s rampant tennis progress, but even as a half Scot, I cannot get at all excited by his dismal countenance (and after I drafted this he got beat in the US Open)

Oh and what I would look forward to, The Arc, I can’t because we don’t know what the great Sea the Stars is doing that day and if he runs I will be too anxious about him suffering a defeat to enjoy a thing. I am so hoping he will be washing his mane on October the 4th, but I know A GREAT cannot shirk the big question for the sake of vanity.

So I have looked outside the box for a sporting hero to admire and I have found one – our youngest daughter’s lovely Godmother who went in for an exciting event last weekend. Known as CaniX, http://www.cani-cross.co.uk/qanda.htm this is cross-country running for woman or man and beast. Last Saturday she powered round Exeter racecourse tied to the lab formerly known as Tramp. I don’t know what they are calling him after this amazing feat but I proffer “Super Tramp”.

As they were at Exeter racecourse my race report reads (this garnered entirely from an eye-witness account and stills):-

 ”Punters never had a moment’s doubt as the Lady skipped clear at the furlong pole (notwithstanding the Tramp who we suspect of not putting it all in at times…) and passed the post in glorious isolation to the roar of the crowd.” Ok, I made the last bit up, but they do it for me

Noble contenders in a dirty world!