Categories: bishops, dogs, holidays, saints
Tags: Wessex Cyclosportive, Dick Dastardly, Muttley, pidgeons, St Aldhelm, Sherborne Abbey
Date: 04 June 2009 14:18:12
Woken at 6.30 a.m. by Miffdog giving out the sort of pathetic whistles and bleeps that either mean "Help, help - I'm about to burst!", "Help, Help, I'm starving," or "There is an intruder on our territory; vengeance is mine!" This last is usually one of the local moggies. They always escape and I'm sure our neighbours are highly entertained by the sight of Topcat doing an assault course over our 6 ft plus fencing to the accompaniment of the canine equivalent of the intro to Rossini's William Tell Overture...not. Hence I didn't dare let him out onto the lawn. However, when by 9 a.m. we'd heard more Bleeps than an archive episode of Blue Peter's 'Bleep and Booster,' (remember them, anybody?), I gave in, and a hairy fury shot out into the Miffy estate and practically hoovered the lawn with his nose. There was no sign of Topcat but some tell-tale flurries of feathers on the path, so when, ten minutes later I heard a crash and triumphant scufflings from Miffdog, I rushed back outside, but, as I suspected, it was too late; I'm afraid he'd finished off what M le Moggie had started. Ewww! To be honest, it was probably a merciful release. Our neighbourhood pidgeons often seem to have even more lives than the one of Dick Dastardly fame but sometimes their luck runs out. Though come to think of it, Miffdog does bear a fleeting resemblance to Muttley. Anyoldhow, I didn't fancy my breakfast one bit after that.*
On a more pleasant note, over on his cycle blog Mr Miff has been doing some catching up on our doings, including our late May bank holiday stay in Sherborne for the Tour of Wessex Cyclosportive.. Do pop over to our other blogs and read all about it. We had a great weekend; Mr Miff reaching gold standard in the three day marathon. Meantime, I had an equally good time - if more relaxing time pottering round Sherborne, including visits to the Abbey - celebrating the 1300th anniversary of its founding Saint, Aldhelm - from all accounts the party animal of ancient Wessex, (well, you have to allow me my little exaggeration!) and just generally chilling.
You'll also be rejoiced to learn that I resisted the lure of the charity shops, and did not come back home with a large, wooden statue of St Francis and a birdbath. Note, 'and,' not 'in!'
p.s. Mr M has steam cleaned the path since. My hero!