Gosh I've been having a fun time this weekend with Neil and Yvonne in their woodland retreat at Kiltarlity (near Inverness), while Gail has been with her book club pals enjoying the cerebral delights of the Edinburgh Book Festival.
I did receive a late evening message, but couldn't make much sense of it. (You know how these book group ladies are after a few glasses of wine....)
It seems they'd seen talks by, variously, yanisvaroufakisgregwisetomdevineshamichakrabatidonaldmurrayedithhallrorybremner or some such person or people.
Apparently it was not a dry weekend in any sense of the word.
I'm sorry to report that last weekend my botanical assistant was too busy yak-yakking away with her blogging buddies to pay careful attention to the wildflowers we came across on our excursions in the Argyll area.
As a result, this week I have no close up flower photos for Rosy and the Gang's Flower Friday, and I am unsure whether the mauve-coloured blooms pictured above are field scabious or devil's-bit scabious. I think, judging by the damp meadow habitat, that the latter is more likely. Either way, surely 'scabious' is not a nice name for such pretty little plant?
I do know that the yellow flowers on the left of the picture are ragwort, and this 'weed' seems to have done particularly well in the unusually warm weather we've had here in Scotland this summer.
I would like to be able to promise that I'll do better next week, but with Gail imminently swanning off to the Edinburgh Festival for a few days and me being dispatched to neighbours Neil and Yvonne, I don't want to build unrealistic expectations, flower-wise.
I hope you are OK in 'camp'. You know, it's a real shame you can't be in Scotland with the Lady and Man, who are here with Gail and me, staying in YAM-Aunty's very lovely flat in Dunoon, where I have been given the run of the place (including both of YAM-Aunty's large and most comfortable sofas). I mean there would have been plenty of room on the sofas for you too. I'm not making you feel bad, am I?
You won't be at all jealous if I tell you how the Man and I had a most satisfying game of tug of war last night, will you? He really didn't seem to mind how much I growled and came close to nipping his fingers off. Does he play like that with you? Then at lunchtime today, I am totally sure he would have shared his packet of crisps with me too, had spoilsport Gail not told him not to.
Oh and we all had such a fun time exploring Auchindrain Township in the morning, and learning how life was lived in rural Scotland in times past. I have to say that the very basic furniture in the old cottages did not look a patch on YAM-Aunty's sofas. Did I mention the comfy sofas here? Oh, I did already, apparently! The Lady and Man told us how in Canada you guys would not have been allowed to roam around a museum like this. Well that's really too bad! Although of course I don't mean to make you feel envious, especially since you are cooped up in prison at the moment. (What? You didn't need reminding?)
Well I think I've written enough for now. I do believe that the Lady and Man, who are such nice humans, are missing you very much, despite hiding it well.
Look, just because your human is friends with someone, it doesn't necessarily follow that you have to get on with that someone's dog, does it?
I'll be frank with you. I like my set-up, living in a nice house, just Gail and me.
When Gail said, "Oh Bertie, won't it be fun, we're having wee Rosie the Westie to stay for a couple of days, you'll like that won't you?" I wasn't given any choice in the matter.
Because I'm a polite chappie, I refrained from any overt actions displaying my displeasure at having to share my living space. There wan't any snarling, baring of teeth or outright aggression.
I hope my body language conveyed my feelings.
(Gail says: "Don't worry Bertie, it did!")
Well you too might object if your customary quiet evening, relaxing on the sofa with your nose on your human's lap, was disturbed by a very insistent little Westie snout poking across from the other side of the sofa and constantly demanding attention.
I think I successfully made my point by playing with my Westie stuffie and trying my best to ignore Rosie altogether.
And if Rosie was at all perturbed at the sight of her stuffed toy counterpart missing part of its face, well that's no skin off my nose...
Hi, I'm Bertie, a wire-haired fox terrier pup. I live with Gail in Aberdeen, Scotland. An old Westie called Hamish used to live here but he died on 18th February 2010 (exactly the same day I was born). People tell me that he used to have a blog and that I have big pawprints to fill. That's a bit too much responsibility for a very young puppy - and anyway, I intend to make my own mark!
(Gail says that Hamish could certainly have taught me a thing or two about marking stuff....)