What to do..
Grab a beer.
Help with the decorations.
Remove any irritating and questionably 'seasonal' neckwear.
Go for a walk somewhere nice*.
Saturday, 11 December 2010
In a panic over Christmas? Bertie advises...
What to do..
Grab a beer.
Help with the decorations.
Remove any irritating and questionably 'seasonal' neckwear.
Go for a walk somewhere nice*.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
My park / Duthie Park
We've been debating, Gail and I, the title of my previous post, in which I declared that 'my park' had been invaded by Eskimos.
Leaving aside the matter of where the Eskimos disappeared to (we never found any), what Gail is objecting to is that I claimed the park as my very own.
Well let me set record straight, and tell you a little more about Duthie Park, to give the correct name, as it is such an important feature of my daily life.
Elizabeth Duthie, of the family that owned the Duthie Shipyards, gifted the 44 acres to the Aberdeen Council in 1881.
When did you last hear of a modern day philanthropist donating land for public benefit and the enjoyment of city dwellers? (Gailsays rants "these days we just have the Donald Trumps, buying up beautiful stretches of our coast, which were previously open and free for all to enjoy, but which in future will be accessible only to rich golfers).
Oh Gail, you do need to move on....Back to Duthie Park.
Well on dark winter mornings, it does feel like the place belongs just to us dogs and our faithful owners, out for the regular pre-work walk. You do also at this time of day see the occasional juicy-calved jogger, who I am not supposed to chase, and a few hardy fluorescent cyclists taking a short cut to the office.
On a sunny summer weekends it's a whole different picture: kids whooshing back and forth on the swings and vainly trying to descend the non-slip surface of the slide (a council 'health and safety' feature....), families noisily queuing up for ice-creams at the café, games of cricket (the players mostly brown-skinned south Asians dressed in some approximation to the traditional white outfit), picnickers surprisingly careless of their sandwiches given the number of unleashed dogs on the look-out, students lazily tossing around a frisbee, model boat enthusiasts making good use the large shallow pond, coach parties of old ladies visiting the Winter Gardens (I'm not allowed in the greenhouses, more's the pity. I did once sneak in. It's lovely and warm in the tropical house).
The park has a big grassy area with a bandstand in the middle, plus some beautifully tended formal flower beds, monuments, trees for peeing on, footpaths, ponds and fountains. Dogs are allowed everywhere except the Winter Gardens and do not have to be on a lead, although we are supposed to be 'under control'.
It's only a quarter of a mile walk from my house, so the morning circuit down to and round the park and back again is about a mile long and takes 20-30 minutes, depending on how many pals I meet en route and whether we call in at the paper shop on the way home.
Aren't I lucky to have such a nice place so close? Even if it's not, strictly speaking, 'mine'.
Leaving aside the matter of where the Eskimos disappeared to (we never found any), what Gail is objecting to is that I claimed the park as my very own.
Well let me set record straight, and tell you a little more about Duthie Park, to give the correct name, as it is such an important feature of my daily life.
Elizabeth Duthie, of the family that owned the Duthie Shipyards, gifted the 44 acres to the Aberdeen Council in 1881.
When did you last hear of a modern day philanthropist donating land for public benefit and the enjoyment of city dwellers? (Gail
Oh Gail, you do need to move on....Back to Duthie Park.
Well on dark winter mornings, it does feel like the place belongs just to us dogs and our faithful owners, out for the regular pre-work walk. You do also at this time of day see the occasional juicy-calved jogger, who I am not supposed to chase, and a few hardy fluorescent cyclists taking a short cut to the office.
On a sunny summer weekends it's a whole different picture: kids whooshing back and forth on the swings and vainly trying to descend the non-slip surface of the slide (a council 'health and safety' feature....), families noisily queuing up for ice-creams at the café, games of cricket (the players mostly brown-skinned south Asians dressed in some approximation to the traditional white outfit), picnickers surprisingly careless of their sandwiches given the number of unleashed dogs on the look-out, students lazily tossing around a frisbee, model boat enthusiasts making good use the large shallow pond, coach parties of old ladies visiting the Winter Gardens (I'm not allowed in the greenhouses, more's the pity. I did once sneak in. It's lovely and warm in the tropical house).
The park has a big grassy area with a bandstand in the middle, plus some beautifully tended formal flower beds, monuments, trees for peeing on, footpaths, ponds and fountains. Dogs are allowed everywhere except the Winter Gardens and do not have to be on a lead, although we are supposed to be 'under control'.
It's only a quarter of a mile walk from my house, so the morning circuit down to and round the park and back again is about a mile long and takes 20-30 minutes, depending on how many pals I meet en route and whether we call in at the paper shop on the way home.
Aren't I lucky to have such a nice place so close? Even if it's not, strictly speaking, 'mine'.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
My park has been invaded by Eskimos!
The evidence...
I have noticed that all this snow makes humans very snap-happy, which explains yet more mostly white photos below. (If bored of pictures of snowy me, then I suggest you move on to visit some southern hemisphere dogs, say Toby in South Africa, or Downunder Daisy).
Oh and finally, please could someone send Gail tips on how to look more stylish in cold weather? Please? I mean there's me, always so handsome, it's embarrassing to be seen out with her sometimes.....
Thursday, 2 December 2010
A new mug. About time.
Yes of course Bertie, what's on your mind, I'm listening.
Well it's just that I've noticed you have a new coffee mug, and I want to tell you how much I like it.
Oh Bertie, you mean this one I guess, the one with 'wirehaired fox terrier' written on, and a picture of a fine handsome WFT face?
Yes that's the one.
I get the sense there's more you want to say Bertie?
Yes Gail, there is. You see Gail, I've been living in this house all these months, and everywhere I look it's been Westie this and Westie that. Mugs, wall hangings, stuffed toys, ornaments, cards, fridge magnets, you name it.... Can't you see, it's been a little hard, surrounded by all these Hamish look-a-likes, not to worry just a wee bit that you think I'm second best?
Oh Bertie. Bertie Bertie Bertie. Oh I am so sorry. I had no idea you felt like that. I admit that when Hamish was here, I loved him more than words can say. But now you've come along, and I've found a new and huge and special place in my heart for loving you just as much. As for all those Westie knick-knacks, it's very simple. It seems every other shop in Scotland sells something with a Westie picture on it; they're sort of the national dog. The only reason we don't have a house full of fox terrier stuff is that it's much harder to come by.
So where did you get the new mug from then?
Well Bertie, we're very lucky that Marie-Thérèse lives with us and is so clever at finding nice things on the internet. She gave me the mug as a birthday present last week.
Oh I might have guessed. She is so thoughtful. Where is she? I want to give her another cuddle right now. Just after I've had a sip of your coffee that is.....
PS Gail wants me to point out that I wasn't actually drinking her coffee, it was the 'dog beer' that my friend George sent me a while back. It was totally dee-lish!
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