It's a very hot day.
Charles II said the English Summer comprises "Three fine days and a Thunderstorm" but that was 350 years ago and this week we are still waiting for the storm to break. Much like Lord Levy and John Prescott when rumours of their gay affair start leaking out.
The only highlight was when Mr P tried to adjust the kitchen ceiling fan with a screwdriver and the mounting slipped out and biffed him on the head. "Classic case of the fan hitting the shit" observed Oz laconically and, I thought, rather cruelly.
Anyway we are taken to Knettishall Heath for a welcome dip in the river once more.
Which is great until a mad woman turns up with 5 (five!) sheepdogs, all identical, milling around her like the Countess Gertrude in Gormenghast. Only I think they were cats in her case, and she had a Bullfinch nesting in her hair. The collie woman just has a magpie.
Each sheepdog has a coloured ball and when mad woman starts chucking them in the river the sheepdogs sneak and snake across the water to retrieve them like pointy-nosed cruise missiles.
Then one ball lands near me and I swim over and get it. Pointy nose A starts stalking me like I'm Christopher Ecclestone at a Dr Who convention. "Keep your shirt on, mate. It's only a ball", I quip through clenched teeth. Just to wind him up I swim to the edge and walk up and down with his precious ball, doing sudden directiion changes which sheepdog A (now in tandem with B & C) have to follow.
Charles II said the English Summer comprises "Three fine days and a Thunderstorm" but that was 350 years ago and this week we are still waiting for the storm to break. Much like Lord Levy and John Prescott when rumours of their gay affair start leaking out.
The only highlight was when Mr P tried to adjust the kitchen ceiling fan with a screwdriver and the mounting slipped out and biffed him on the head. "Classic case of the fan hitting the shit" observed Oz laconically and, I thought, rather cruelly.
Anyway we are taken to Knettishall Heath for a welcome dip in the river once more.
Which is great until a mad woman turns up with 5 (five!) sheepdogs, all identical, milling around her like the Countess Gertrude in Gormenghast. Only I think they were cats in her case, and she had a Bullfinch nesting in her hair. The collie woman just has a magpie.
Mad Woman (Magpie just out of shot)
Each sheepdog has a coloured ball and when mad woman starts chucking them in the river the sheepdogs sneak and snake across the water to retrieve them like pointy-nosed cruise missiles.
Then one ball lands near me and I swim over and get it. Pointy nose A starts stalking me like I'm Christopher Ecclestone at a Dr Who convention. "Keep your shirt on, mate. It's only a ball", I quip through clenched teeth. Just to wind him up I swim to the edge and walk up and down with his precious ball, doing sudden directiion changes which sheepdog A (now in tandem with B & C) have to follow.
"Keep your Shirt on, Collie!"
We turn into a sort of barn dance, with me leading the 3 collies up and down the water's edge, their pointy noses describing arcs and turns in perfect formation.
Our larks come to an abrupt end when Countess Gertrude becomes all stroppy and tries to retrieve the ball, then Oz gets involved. The 3 words "Oz gets involved" will strike terror into the hearts of any land based mammal (possibly excluding the mole), yet evince comic derision from any water creature who will be perfectly safe from the aquaphobic tibetan.
Mr P now steps in, gives the countess and her magpie one of his withering looks (that will teach her! not!), and puts me and attila the terrier on leads. We walk away as slowly as possible, dignity intact.
"We could've had 'em", says Oz.
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