|Walking through the fields|
I haven’t seen PvB since he lived across the road in Burgoyne Street. My mistresses Maddy and Issy have grown taller. Sadly I am afraid to report that PvB has grown (but not taller). Nothing better to do than to take him (and Sean) for a walk. We English have almost all the open spaces owned by Lords and seriously wealthy people. To prevent an uprising by Schnauzers and bearded types, scout leaders, etc, the Parliament has seen fit to create public footpaths and by-ways so that the great canines of the United Kingdom of Great Britain can walk their two-legged friends.
|Bounding through the forest|
We British call this rambling. This is exactly what PvB and Sean (“Gill”) got up to – comparing scouting systems, education systems, what to do about the Euro, whining about the bureaucracy of multinational corporations, all I could do was race off across the fields and forests. We finished off at the Oak in Yattendon, a town owned by Lord and Lady Iliffe whose ancestors were granted ownership of the estate by Henry VIII (PvB and Gill surmised that this was for knocking over a few Roman Catholic recalcitrants). I enjoyed some traditional English potato crisps and a bowl of water while Gill and PvB shared what they disclosed to their fairer halves as “an ale” (one ale times four pints between them) of the West Berkshire Breweries “Good Old Boys” (and they are not even from Texas). We then tootled off through the Frilsham Forests to walk off the ales (and prepare the boys for the Fat Duck) – they will be right at home even though they have no feathers, they sure do waddle after an ale.
|Where's my ale?!|
Mum (Allison) and Jackie came home with the biggest collection of shopping bags this house has seen for some time. They had pretty big smiles too.
|Oh well, this'll have to do|
|Boy, those guys can talk!|
|Fat Duck taster|