Training the new dog.
Nelly the sheepdog is now 11 and has a swollen joint on her back leg – she is starting to slow down. This is a good thing in many ways because a steady dog often does its job better than an excitable one – and Nelly has been very excitable over the years (let's be kind and call it enthusiasm). Now at last I can gather sheep with her in a nice controlled manner instead of a mad rush –just like One Man and his Dog on the telly.
I admit it, I have relapsed into nostalgia. I know how it came to pass. I was fully aware of the dangers and had been trying to avoid situations that might start me off again. Then last night I was talking to a 15 year old girl and she was so bright and funny, full of life and naïve self-confidence, I started remembering what it was like when I walked among such creatures. Anyway now I'm infected, and I might as well lie back and enjoy it's bitter sweet pleasures. So rose- tinted glasses on,
She doesn't remember how long she waited behind the door, or why she opened it when she did, but when she stepped out of her room she saw a youth facing her with a Hornsea Pottery mug in his hand, his mouth was hanging open. He was wearing jeans and a wollen jumper that was sagging out of shape due to the 2 gallons of water it had absorbed, he had blue eyes and dark hair that still managed to curl though wet, a puddle was forming beneath him.
Her mother had told her, her smile
We are all victims and beneficiaries of fate. Life is a tapestry of if onlys and thank goodnesses, a maze of crossroads and possibilities stretching and widening away back from the point we occupy now. When I look over the chances and co-incidences that have brought me to where I am, the best and most shining example of happy fate was meeting and pursuing unto marriage the young girl who became Mrs P. Everything good in my life now, seems to stem from that.
I was part of a