A hard day to stay sober

If today had happened one month ago I would have been drunk by now (5:30 pm). But I’m not.

The day started fine, bright and sunny. Sparky the dog was a bit out of sorts and did not leap to have his collar put on to go out. When we got to the stable yard Tristan the horse was sitting on the ground unwilling to get up. The Memsahib was worried.

I gave him a little tickle under the chin and he began to move, then slowly got to his feet. I managed to get his filthy overnight rug off so that he could have his raincoat on for the expected weather. Parts of him were plastered with mud, which had to be left to dry out before brushing.

I returned home in time for my first on-line therapy session recommended by the Rehab clinic. That was hard work, and I have some homework before next week’s session.

I booked my Jeep for a service which will cost about £1000 because it is a major mileage point. That was another shock to the system.

At around midday next door’s builder recommenced sawing though the solid concrete wall. I could barely hear myself think, and Sparky did not know where to hide. He went to the back door like he wanted to go out to the garden, but as soon as I opened the door he shot out and hid under the caravan.

It was pouring with rain, so our planned country walk was not feasible. I put Sparky in the car and went for a drive. I used my randomised card-driven route. A red card means take the next right and a black means the next left. Court cards mean the second turning. We drove around the country lanes until coincidentally it stopped raining and we found a footpath with space to park, albeit blocking a locked field gate.

This rather nice farm drew my attention. I want one like this.

So we set off to explore this unknown and inviting footpath. It went past what looks like an equestrian centre with an enormous muck heap,

After about half a mile the path became almost impassable (to humans) so we turned back, but not before Sparky had “tested the water”

We went back to the car, which I had parked too close to the gate for Sparky to leap in, so I lifted a muddy dog into the boot. Returning home the grinding from next door had stopped but hammering had started. The clock on our mantelpiece had moved so that it was teetering on the edge of the shelf. Sparky curled up in the furthest corner of the house. I now had a splitting headache, so I had a cuppa and put my headphones on to block out the noise.

Tomorrow Sparky and I are going to Poole to visit my son and grandson, so we will escape the din. More about that anon, but for this evening I need comfort food and an early night.

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General Whiskers

Wargaming butterfly (mainly solo), unpainted model figure amasser, and Historical Re-enactor of the black powder era.

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