Bear and 14 year old daughter (Don't call me Tots) have spent a couple of days with oldest son camping at, er... Ingomells? Where, of course, it being bank August holiday, it chucked it down at least one day.
I was pleased because it was beginning to feel like I was living with Les Dawson. I needed a bit of me time. And ye small gods knows she's earned it.
So I was left under the infrequent care of Eldest Daughter. Who is unfortunately a pretty good mix of her mother and I. Looks like Bear, but... er.... Lets just say there's a little too much of my bluntness in there. She even made ME blush, and that's hard to do :)
Otherwise, it's me, two cats. One elderly female who just wants to sleep and eat, and Smudge the young male wipper-snapper, who is a mad midget who's out all night, and wants to be let in at 04:30.
And Sigma the Dog. Oh, Dear. Dogs are not supposed to talk. Are they?
This bugger does. Let him into back garden. He's got an escape route. I'm hearing, and I mean this so sincerely folks, "I WANT MY MUM!". Daughter phones up "Um, dad, Sarah just phoned up, and she says she just walked past your place and all she could hear was "I WANT MY MUM!". He's sat outside the front gate.
So I fetch him in. Put Stuart Little on. He likes Stuart Little. Ten Minutes later, Guess what?
I WANT MY... Y'know the rest. I think he wants his mum. And Stewart Little is ok. For the first couple of times. I'm too old to be a Granddad to Grand children AND a dog.... Whatever Rod Stewart might think