Saturday, June 28, 2008

Whoop it up, y'all!


I could ramble about how much I loathe people who, when trying to explain something to you, use the phrase “it’s not rocket science” (also in the same category: people who say “at the end of the day,” “thinking outside the box” and/or start their response to a question with “yeah, no …” and finish with “d’you know what I mean?”. Oh, and people who, when retelling details of a conversation, say “so he/she turned around and said to me …”. Aaargh!!!) (There are many more conversational bugbears that really, really get to me, but I’ll stop going on about them now because I’m in danger of attracting a snooty comment disparaging writers who overuse parenthesis and favour huge, rambly sentences without paying much attention to grammar and punctuation). I could tell you how I made a fantastic dinner last night with pork chops, medium-thick noodles and a homemade marinade that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make again because it was all so random and somehow instinctive (unlike the steak’n’potato salad feast that I’m planning for this evening, which is very, very straightforward but will be absolutely yummy). I could tell you all about the stuff I’m currently discussing at my counselling sessions, but that’s only interesting to people who are paid £21 per hour to listen. And if I get started on my recent thoughts on the dynamics of female friendship, how good both the book and the film version of Ian McEwan’s ‘Atonement’ is, the first session of filming ‘that’ forthcoming TV documentary or how annoyed I get when nobody else in my household cleans the bathroom, we’d never get near the big news that’s currently dominating my life. Which is:

I’M GETTING A DOG!
A real, live, actual Yorkshire Terrier (SEE PHOTO!!!), just over one year old, acutely cute and gorgeously gorgeous, is about to fly into my life by magic (well, accompanied by me, on a return flight from Ibiza, no less) (oh come on, you didn’t expect me to get an unglamorous dog without an international passport, did you?) courtesy of a person who I haven’t actually seen for well over two decades but has never, ever been off my radar. As you can probably already tell, this is a huuuuge story, bubbling with amazing coincidences and (warning: we’re having a hippy moment) miracles. And as soon as I get my head around it myself, I’ll be writing about it all whenever I get the opportunity. But for now, I can’t really concentrate on anything much except a forthcoming reunification session with the wonderful friend in question and plans for a trip to Ibiza in August, when I’ll be returning with Whoopi (for that is her name) beside me (or possibly in the hold – I’m not quite sure how one flies with a dog yet). Imagine the air steward: “chicken or beef? Caesar or Iams?” “Well, Whoopi will have the chicken – I’ll be fine with my own Pedigree Chum”. And then, once home … no more lonely moments – ever! Always, always someone to talk to – and someone who’ll listen! Taking her up to the field up the road every single day, and having a genuine reason to mingle with all the posh dog people who live around here! Smuggling her into Waitrose in a dog bag! Accessorising her outfit with mine! Constantly droning on about how pretty/clever/tired/gorgeous/smart she is! Oh, whoooooopie indeed!!!!


Love me, love my dog? Really, you don’t have much choice …

2 comments:

H said...

Yay! And yay again! We shall have doggy playdates, where Henry The Giant Chocolate Lab will try to eat Whoopi, and oh how we shall laugh.

Of course he would NEVER do that, he just might squash Whoopi. A bit.

Well done you. Dogs are ACE.

Anonymous said...

So I turned around and said, "yeah, no, but thinking outside the box, at the end of the day she's going to be a great dog mummy, d'you know what I mean?".

Delighted for you about the dog, but don't let the hormones (pawmones?) go to your head. Please continue with the ascerbicity, yes?

And £21 AN HOUR? I'd do it for a third of the price!!!!!!!