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In which Cesar Milan 2 tries to encourage me to let my greyhound off the lead… kind of!

“Are you going to let her off then?” said Cesar 2.

We – Cesar Milan 2, his two dogs, my dog – The Daisy Dog and I were idling our Saturday morning away in the field. A field that Cesar 2( my nickname for this fellow dog owner who had been on numerous dog training courses and who admired Cesar Milan and his techniques) classed as being safe and secure enough to let my relatively young greyhound off the lead for the VERY first time!

He smiled his most persuasive smile. This guy clearly knew his stuff and his dogs were proof of that.

However, he didn’t know my dog… I did.

“No, not here and not now.” I told him.

His disappointment was visible. I think he genuinely wanted to help, but, I needed to do things in my time and my own way.

Fast forward to last week.

On a warm, sunny morning the Daisy Dog and I headed twenty minutes down the lane, to a field where I was fairly sure we wouldn’t be disturbed. I was right, there wasn’t a soul in sight. I put a harness on The Daisy Dog… and  she refused to walk in it. I put her collar back on and she walked fine… even though the new training lead was still attached to the harness.

I fed some of the lead out of a new bag that I have purchased to house the monster of a lead( which extends to about three miles!). In the new bag were water bottles for the dog and I, doggy poo bags, about three pounds of sausages and turkey, for training purposes, a picnic – for when I got peckish and  a sleeping bag – for when I got tired. I was a brownie, (Sixer of the Gnomes, to be exact) as a child and my motto still is be prepared! It’s just  these days the preparation has to be housed in a bigger, bag and I sometimes struggle to carry my preparedness. It flops around all over the place and sticks out way too much, and sometimes I trip up over it!

Anyhow, I tied off the lead, to stop it pulling out uncontrollably… and me tripping up over that as well. The Daisy Dog didn’t really seem to realise that she had the freedom to run a bit further from me. In fact she shadowed me all around the field, in much the same way she always does. It could have been something to do with the huge shadow that I was casting. Why bake in the hot sun when you have a huge shadow of preparedness to cool down in?  So, no recall training was done on that outing.

Towards the end of the walk, hot and sticky trudge in the field, in an over zealous attempt to give her some more lead, I got the lead in the bag very tangled up. I also needed the toilet and I’d forgotten to pack one. ( Brown Owl would be so distraught!)

So, I put her back on to her shorter lead and we headed home. Over a cuppa I untangled my messy lead, whilst the Daisy Dog snored loudly on her part of the sofa. Yes, she has her own section of the sofa. No, she isn’t spoilt at all!

I haven’t seen Cesar 2 recently.

Credit: gifsoup.com

I feel sure if I do, he’ll have some advice for me. I wonder if he can give some pointers on how to stop my three miles of training lead getting tangled up in my bag?

The training of the Daisy Dog continues… watch this rather erratic space!

How about you?

Do any of you use training leads for your pooches?

Any bits of advice?

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

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WordPress Photo Challenge: It IS Easy Being Green!

This week WordPress asked us to post on the subject of It IS Easy Being Green!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/it-is-easy-being-green/

For me… that IS easy as green is one of my favourite colours.

I drive a green car, have a green front door to our cottage, have green/blue eyes, have  some green walls and I wear a lot of this wonderful, relaxing colour.

Simples!

Spring in springing in my part of Yorkshireland. Although it changes frequently. So, yesterday we spring had arrived and heat. Sunday lunch was taken outside and a bit too much wine was drunk.

Today, a washed – out grey sea of clouds is hanging persistently above our heads. The coats are back on and the garden parasol is not required to shield us from the sun. In fact the sun is nowhere to be seen.

Hey ho… such is life!

But, the trees and landscape are waking up. Fresh green buds are unfolding and that virginal green will soon be everywhere. A green of hope and expectation. Gradually, it will turn to darker shades of green as the summer sets in and then in the fall the greens, oranges and yellows will combine for one glorious, last show. But, that’s for another blog post.

Click on the above link to check out the other takes on this great subject.

Time I wasn’t here. I wish I could be here more, but times are a bit more challenging these days and I’m not very good at juggling! But, I’m practising and practising. And I never give in!

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

 

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Atop: WordPress photo challenge.

So, on this wild and extremely windy Saturday afternoon, the Daisy dog and I stood atop the cliff gardens and watched the violent waves bash the shoreline below. We clambered up an exposed and rather slippery path to take in the view and make our way back to the car… and a sleeping husband. He didn’t want to brave the weather, in his wheelchair… having watched a wooden bench be tossed on to its front – just as the Daisy dog and I got out of the car.

My picture shows the castle headland, with the harbour and busy south bay of Scarborough, in north Yorkshire.

This is my offering for this week’s WordPress Photo Challenge, which asks us to give our interpretation of Atop.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/atop/

As usual, if you want to check out the other entries click on the link and enjoy!

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

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On the wild side: treecreepers.

On a recent  dog walk the Daisy dog daisy-soft-2and I wandered by our local river, the Derwent.

The moist air made the strands of my hair peeping out from my hat damp and the sky was a wash of different shades of grey. The Daisy dog read her morning, doggy newspaper and I was mesmerised by the dark brown water slowly flowing south.

It was only when it started to hop up, from the base of the weeping willow tree trunk, that I spotted it.

A first for me… a treecreeper!

Photo credit: bidddievan.tumblr.com
Photo credit: bidddievan.tumblr.com

This small bird, about 12 centimetres in length was perfectly camouflaged against the rough, brown trunk of the tree and viewed from the side… albeit briefly – it had a  pure, white breast.

I wish I could say that I managed to get a photograph of it, but I didn’t. I had a greyhound on a lead to contend with… remember. How many times do you line up your shot and just as you are about to get a half-decent image – the pooch moves and there goes your chance? Then the animal/bird moves and you’re left with nothing but memories … and a dog that is clearly bored and wants to get on with the walk.

Take it from me – it was great to watch and I will never forget that memory.

It carefully creeped up and  around the tree, picking off insects with its slightly curved beak. Its tail acted as a support.

But, I can’t come on here and sing the praises of this rather clever bird and not let you see for yourself. So, if you want to see what some folk call a tree mouse – because of the way it cleverly scales tree trunks – have a look at this clip. Just click on the links.

Here Bill Oddie ( a great British Institution) and Kate Humble watch and discuss the huddling and cuddling treecreepers.

As for me – I’ve got a permanent stiff neck now, as I walk around looking up trees hoping for another sighting of a treecreeper… my new favourite bird.

Enjoy.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Eurasian_Treecreeper#p0085b7r

As part of my new – look Write Dorne I’m going to include some wildlife posts and pages on here in future. So, if  you’re interested in reading about some of the great wildlife I’ve been lucky enough to see in my part of Yorkshireland, call back sometime.

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

 

 

 

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Do you remember Dixon of Dock Green in the sixties? A Saturday trip down memory lane.

childhood

There’s something special about Saturdays. I was born on a Saturday night, just as Jack Warner as Sergeant Dixon in Dixon of Dock Green said “Evening all!” I’m led to believe that this was about 9.20 pm. My paternal grandma watching it downstairs, turned up the sound on the television as I screamed upstairs,throughout the episode. When it had finished she investigated the source of the noise pollution. She loved me really… and me her.

For those of you that aren’t familiar with 1960’s television shows in the UK, here’s a clip of the opening titles.

 

You’ve got to admit that’s pretty gripping stuff. Cor blimey! This show went on for many years. Sergeant Dixon brought me into the world and accompanied me throughout most of my childhood.

As a very naughty six-year-old that crawled the length of the children’s hospital ward underneath the beds, to hide from the nurses; used the beds as trampolines and swung from the toilet chains, I had my tonsils removed. I also pretended to be falling asleep and then made my bid for freedom, as the poor surgical staff tried to anaesthetise me. Round and round the room I raced, like a caged animal trying to escape. Someone opened a door and I saw my escape… only to be captured by a mad scramble of frustrated, but relieved hands.

“I’m going to sleep now.” I told them and waited for that awful black mask to be removed from my face.

I woke up on the ward, minus my tonsils and feeling cross with myself for letting them get the better of me.

For being such a good girl? I got a Lady Penelope doll. I was Thunderbirds crazy. My Lady Penelope wasn’t chauffeured around by Parker in a pink Rolls Royce, no…  she drove herself in a blue, plastic jeep. She drove like a mad woman and did things for herself. She didn’t wear the shop bought costumes. I made my own creations for her and I think mum might have chipped in as well with a few items. She was a hippy with headbands, maxi dresses and was nothing like her television personality. She talked with a Yorkshire accent and didn’t brush her hair very much. She climbed trees, played in mud and sand and just lived like a child.

Here’s the Thunderbird’s version of her Ladyship in action.

Later on, as a teenager, Saturday meant pay-day for my paper round and a free Mars bar. I’d buy a can of coke and slurp, and munch my way around my paper round. Then I’d head off to Music College for the morning. I played clarinet. I still have it and occasionally I try the odd Clarinet concerto… as one does. My mouth is not used to the reeds these days and I get blisters. Also, it sounds like a cat on heat! The poor thing can’t get any relief.

These days Saturdays are still special to me. It’s almost as if I can feel them. The traffic that meanders its way through the village and past our cottage sounds different and feels different. I can almost feel that Saturday shopping anticipation/ going to the match/ to visit friends. No work – for some. At this time of the year Christmas shopping is picking up and the excitement levels of guys being dragged off to shopping centres is at an all time high.

Early on a Saturday morning I  roam the sleeping village streets with the Daisy dog and imagine the snoring folk behind the closed blinds and curtains. Eventually, they will rise, without the aid of an alarm and sleepily wander into their Saturday.

The only part of Saturday I can’t abide is the evening television. It’s all stupid game shows, dancing, prancing and mindless garbage for morons. Yeah, I love it. I persuade hubby to binge watch zombies, controlling presidents/politicians and aliens. A bit like Brexit and the Amercian Presidential Election really!

So, that’s a muddled up post about Saturdays/ childhood memories and a bit of other stuff thrown into the mix.

And to think that this all started off with some fog and frost this morning. It got me out of bed… to photograph it and it got me thinking about Saturday.

There may be some of you who would have preferred the fog and frost… SORRY! But, memory lane got in there first.

So, did any of you have a Lady Penelope doll? Watch Thunderbirds? Play clarinet? Do you remember Dixon of Dock Green? Have your tonsils removed in childhood? Climb trees?

I’m off to walk the Daisy dog now and climb a few trees! Oh, and I forgot to mention the roller skating. Maybe next time.

Thanks for reading.

Dorne x

 

 

 

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Morning coffee: in my part of the woods.

Yorkshire is a huge county and has many sides to its character. I truly love where I live and this morning I’ve found this film, made by the North York Moors National Park, to showcase my part of the woods.

We  actually live within this national park and so our little cottage has to conform with the rules and regulations…not a problem. We think it’s a privilege to live where we do.

I hope you enjoy and thanks for dropping by.

Until the next time.

Dorne x