As some of you may be aware life has been a challenge this year. My posts on here have been sporadic… to say the least. And yet -folk still drop by. They don’t always ‘Like’, but, hey they visit. Come to think of it they probably make a hasty retreat and vow to never call again. After all… there is a plethora of other rubbish to read out there. And then there is some really GOOD STUFF!
Anyhow… I just want to wish you all a very happy Christmas and say a huge thanks for following me, reading me and running away very quickly – when you realise what this blog has to offer.
I plan to reappear on here next year. Sooner, rather than later. You have been warned!
Wishing all of my victims a peaceful and contented Christmas. Yeah, right… like that is going to happen. Just survive, just survive!
See you on the other side.
Dorne x
P. S. If there are any spelling mistakes in this post, it doesn’t read very well, or you’re bored silly by it – that’ll be the fault of my cataracts.
I want to like, wash my bottom on the sofa in the lounge and then I may have another little snooze. Before you’re sick ,mummy has a big fluffy throw on there and a waterproof cover: and so my bottom will not make the sofa smell. Which is a shame, because I love all things smelly and fluffy. Cool!
She can’t do anything about my farts smells though. They are like something else. They’re awesome! Sometimes I have to run away from them. I mean where do they come from? Well, alright I know where they come from… but, I mean what have I been eating? Like! They’re so GROSS!
I’ve been living in this place like since January and it’s like okay.
I will be five in May of next year. Yeah, because I was like four in May of this year… get it?
I like to be cuddled and I love to get myself comfy on the sofa and screw the covers up. Sometimes I drag the covers off the sofa and dump them at the bottom of the stairs like. That’s awesome.
If dad leaves his empty coffee cup on the coffee table I like to get in there and have a slurp of it. Yummy. Yeah, that’s awesome – me… a teenage greyhound on caffeine. You’ve got to see it to believe it. Heard from downstairs, me in the bedroom sounds like an earthquake… cool – like!
Why is the coffee table called a coffee table like? Like does it need to have coffee all over it? I can help with that!
This thing called Christmas is coming like and mummy has put things called decorations up in the house… the whole house. Daddy says it’s too cluttered and mummy tells him it’s Christmas and to shut up – like. Later on I find daddy looking at the decorations and smiling. When mummy ( who is also known as she who is usually obeyed) asks daddy to put the lights up outside, at the front of the cottage ( because we have to emphasize we live in a cottage – like) he can’t get out there fast enough – like! This has nothing to do with mummy – she is trying to get her chocolate – filled bottom through the loft hatch, to find more Christmas decorations. Daddy may never get back in again. The decorations may fill the house – like.
Anyhow – like. I’ve discovered something called crackers. Mummy had carefully selected some to go with the rest of the rubbish she has on display – like. I got hold of one the other afternoon and showed it to daddy. He told she who is usually obeyed and she took the cracker away and then she moved the other crackers.
She’s forgetting that if I stand on my hind legs – like, I’m nearly six-foot tall… hah, hah! I could get the crackers – like.
Right, I’m bored now – like. I need to sleep a bit more, but I might come back again sometime – like.
If you’ve read this… cool! If not… I’m not really that bothered – like.
Big sloppy kisses and a right awful pong from The Daisy Dog x
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.
I love taking part in this annual challenge and what a great way to raise funds for a worthy charity. Thanks Hugh for your generosity and for hosting this fun event.
There are some great entries here.
Dorne x
A massive thank you from Angela, Toby and I. Once again, you guys came up trumps and I am delighted to inform you that I have donated £250 to the Dogs Trust.
Angela may have now been packed away for another eleven months and the house may be looking very bare with all the Christmas decorations having come down, but the blogging community continue to shine a light and make these dark Winter months bright and beautiful.
Without further ado, here’s the list of everyone that participated in Hugh’s Photography Challenge for week 8. I’m sending a virtual hug to everyone of you for helping us raise money over the Christmas festivities. Please take a bow. You have all given a homeless dog a meal and may even have found a few of those dogs a new home. Thank you all so much.
I want to like, wash my bottom on the sofa in the lounge and then I may have another little snooze. Before you’re sick ,mummy has a big fluffy throw on there and a waterproof cover: and so my bottom will not make the sofa smell. Which is a shame, because I love all things smelly and fluffy. Cool!
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