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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"

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

WARM WELCOME 

And so we cruised up the road through the borders after the wedding, and got to the end of my road just as it was getting dark. And half way up the little lane was a huge bonfire right across the road, with drunken figures dancing round it , throwing bottles in the air.

We weren`t going up there. We retreated to my neighbour`s house, where we were treated to coffee and the full story of their ongoing drainage problems (now attributed by the Council to "global warming"), while we made efforts to contact the police. Even 999 put us on hold, while the local polis station played a soothing recorded message about how busy they were, and how much they cared. At last he managed to get the fire brigade.

They arrived ten minutes later, and drove right past, down the hill. After ten more minutes of running after them waving, we got them into the lane. I thought it best at this point to play the little old lady card to the max, and eventually sent them off up the narrow little road to the fire. I could see that my neighbour was thinking the same as I - "and when they get stuck up there...?" (We remember the last time, but did not mention this to my dogshowing friend, innocent of the finer points of living here.)

The drunks, seeing the flashing blue light, legged it. The firemen spread plenty of water around. Then there was a long, long pause. while I imagined the road blocked forever by an abandoned fire engine....and at last the headlights appeared and they lumbered back and shot off into the night.

We drove on through a huge cloud of steam past piles of smouldering wood, and I was never so glad to get home.

Scenes from country life.
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