The Big Freeze

It’s the bleak midwinter. I know this, because last night Dadnambulist, on the phone from the Southernmost tip of the Arctic circle, exclaimed through the chattering of his remaining teeth “They call this global f+++ing warming? If they want to save the polar bears they should bring ‘em all here to live in f+++ing Cornwall.”

The body and the ideology may be eroded by the passage of time, but the wit retains an enduring vitality. Perhaps that was cackling rather than chattering that I heard.


2009 was not the year of the Dennis after all. Instead, he remains frozen in dispute like some gigantic mammoth, locked in the permafrost by the evil wizard’s spell (he who must not be named, and who must surely live in a castle devoid of mirrors).

Still, while Lord Mouldyfort spent the holidays with his conscience, there was time to spare for much festive fun and frivolity. The hordes descended on the Applehouse for a Saturnalian Yuletide Winterval and then left fuller of mirth and girth. The turn of the year was spent in the delightful company of friends in Co. Kildare (Billy the Buttlander made it there and back with barely a whimper), where the mini-somnambulists enjoyed a week of walks, swims, games and marathon sessions on Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2, with their local comrades.

Then came the snows. All the Clanambulists love snow, not least the under-exercised hairy one, who takes to drifts with gay abandon. Although to be fair, he’s not so keen when I make him sit and dangle his soft bits in it, to pose for photos. Can’t blame him really.

While we’re waiting for Dennis to thaw, we’re making the most of the beautiful Kentarctica…

 

Phriday Photo XLII

Thanks for messages about the under-exercsied-hariy-one last week...

Muttley is on the mend :-)

To view previous Phriday Photos, click here!

Phriday Photo XL

It's tough out there, and while we wait for Dennis to get going everyone has to pull their weight. And that includes the under-exercised hairy one: he's going out to stud. We've therefore put together a promotional puppy pimping photo package for prospective readers of the horseandhound.co.uk and the like...

To rent: The Dog's b......

To view previous Phriday Photos, click here!

Permanent Vacation

They say a change is as good as a rest. It's not like we're on holiday but working full time on something you really enjoy doesn't really feel like work, and I have found myself occasionally seeking out Aerosmith's great 80's album "Permanent Vacation" on the ipod, and smiling to myself as I air-drum through the intro to "Heart's Done Time."

The dearth of posts this week is partly down to the rapidly-prototyping Dennis, but moreso the fact that it's half-term and the hordes have descended. The mini-somnambulists have been joined by a succession of friends, family and neighbours and the Applehouse has been full to bursting...

we've had a 'Superbowl party' atmosphere in the Applehouse...

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the bar billiards table proved a roaring success and made it through the week largely unscathed...

the permanent marker pen was confiscated on day two...

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the over-exercised hairy one took a nap whenever he got the chance, and wherever he dropped.

Now it's back to school, work and more fun :-)

Muttley Teresa

The underexercised hairy one has a problem with his ear, which is a shame as his ears are his most endearing feature. Like all Vizslas they are large, flappy and bleed profusely from the tiniest nick. Following an operation to attempt to patch him back together last week we have become frequent visitors to the local v-e-t-s. I do feel sorry for the poor little mite, but couldn't help chuckling as the increasingly frustrated animal doctors dressed him up as a nun.

Shortly after the photo below was taken, he managed to wrestle his ears free again and shake his head with his normal vigour. It was like a Quentin Tarantino movie. We carted him off in the blood wagon to be patched up again... for the fourth time that day.

"This is as far as I go. I'm not wearing the habit."

Fill Yer Boots

Yesterday Daddy Papersurfer wrote a post about boot sales, reminding me that against my better instincts, we may be forced to participate in one of these folorn events as an inevitable last resort, some time in the not too distant future.

Just recently, we offered to store a certain relative's belongings in the farm packing shed. We weren't prepared for the HGV that turned up with a truly staggering stockpile of chattelery, agglomerated over at least a quarter century. Some of the artefacts are quite extraordinarily bizarre. In fact, the kind of thing you will only ever find at a cold, muddy boot sale...

The underexercised hairy one views proceedings with bemused apprehension

Big Issues?

The Somnambulists are homeless.

Before anyone calls the RSPCA that doesn't include the mini-somnambulists, who are oop Naarth, or the under-exercised hairy one, who is staying with his best mate...

All worldly possessions are on a brace of big lorries at their first stop-over in Naughty Oberhausen, preparing to break for the border under the cover of darkness, en route to Blighty. Sparkly Aph is already camouflaged underneath a snowdrift on neutral territory, while I am in hiding in the safest place this side of the Maginot Line: Trywalker's bedroom.

The plan is to split up, leaving multiple trails, and then rendezvous just South of Lac Leman on Friday, moving quickly to another secret hideaway in Chamonix. I'll be sending delirious messages to everyone I know, the moment I have crossed enemy lines. We'll lie low (or high) there for a couple of weeks, while the minis and various other 'nambulists come and go with supplies. We may try to throw any surveillance off the scent through an elaborate ploy of repeatedly jumping on random ski-lifts.

Once safely into 2009, we'll zig-zag our way back to the escape tunnel, pausing only to thank our friends in La Resistance by spending our remaining Euros on as much of their wine as we can stuff into the Somnambulist Mothership. Then, Dionysus-willing, we'll pop our heads up on the other side, not far from the farmhouse that is to be the new Somnambulist-residence-come-ATIA-HQ...

Big Issue? Pas de problem, mes amis!

Phriday Photo X

Today, it seems, the future of the financial system is in the hands of the lawmakers. If Congress approve the TARP package, irresponsible banks will be allowed to clean up their houses by dumping large swathes of asset-backed-securities on the US Government's doorstep.

Speaking of huge, steaming piles of toxic crap, while rambling over a mountain last weekend we came across this...

The not-so-under-exercised hairy one uncovers possible evidence of living Apatosaurs on an Alp that time forgot

Previous Phriday Photos

Competition

It's a tough, dog eat dog world out there, and it seems like you have to fight for airspace in every direction you look. During the week it's the battle for the Golden Log with UDH, Trywalker and the rest (with Schadenfreude Boy picking over the carcasses), and then at the weekends it's taking on the cyberworld with Project Dennis.

Coming into the study to quietly write my daily musings seems like a therapeutic relief from the day-in, day-out struggle to be top dog. Until now. I got back from the day job yesterday and the computer had been commandeered!

The under-exercised hairy one has started his own dog blog. I wonder where he got that idea from, the sneaky blighter. Anyway, please don't encourage him, he'll only want a treat. Whatever you do, don't visit this page.

Copycat. Dog.