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Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"

Friday, April 30, 2004

Still marooned here by puppies. I can only rush out for a few hours.

Sig is plagued by loose bowels - not half as plagued as I am by them. I suspect it comes from cleaning up after her two, which go under the working titles of Godzilla and Buckethead (he is as huge as she is ugly). The night before last we had the worst and she presented me with puppies smeared with .......well, I won`t go on. Poor Buckethead got the worst of it, and even sponging (Iam unwilling to wash one so young) left her rather stained. sometimes I wonder what this does to my sanity. The puppies soldier on, having little choice and stare at me with unwinking vacant little eyes, just on the verge of relating to the outside world, and not yet able to stand for long without sitting down rather suddenly. In a week they will be chewing my ankles.

All this in the week the EU goes virtually global, and word has it we will become a Polish speaking nation overnight. Well, I never met a Pole I didn`t like. But I can`t understand Blair`s referendum. It looks like a vote for suicide. I can`t get my head round that man. Venal or rabid pols I can understand - but this one, with his slavish adoration of Bush an ambivalence on the EU? Is there a punitive and dark condition to the Special Relationship I don`t know about? I know Tony Benn always insisted there was a "blood price" attached to it. Or does he just want to see his name writ large in the histories? Let`s see him defend the latest pictures of American torture of Iraqui prisoners.........my goodness, this blog is beginning to read like all the others!

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