Wednesday, 20 March 2013

Mr. William feels that it's a 'dog's life'!

Dear optimistic and doggedly determined reader, 

Are you waiting with a lolling tongue and a wet nose for spring to have sprung? My pooch and I are enthusiastically wagging our tails awaiting that joyous moment with bated, hot breath and big round eyes. They say dogs and their owners take on each other's traits over time. Well, he does sniff around every visitor's undercarriage with great vigour, but there's no way I'm going to lick my own 'crown jewels' any time soon, even if it were physically possible. Some things are a bridge too far. He smells of 'Kennel no.5', whereas I prefer 'Midnight in Bognor'. 

Mind you, my canine friend and I make a great team. Yep, he kips all day, except when he barks wildly at every passing tinker, while I do everything else. He seems to like the arrangement, because he's never uttered a word of complaint. I, however, wish he would reply to my correspondence, rather than just eat it and sometimes answer the 'dog and bone' (phone), instead of chewing the cord. Yes, it surely is a dog's life.

Anyway, there are times when I wish someone would toss me a bone. Just a tiny, chewed up, shrivelled one would do. No derogatory comments please! You see, I am one of life's keen tryers. My son-in-law says I'm trying, very trying. Will he ever grow up? Ironically, the cheeky so and so says I have reverted to being a naughty schoolboy. Tosh! Sadly he has confiscated my catapult and marbles, just because I put some tacks on his chair. It's not fair! At least the twerp has a pain in the butt now, as well as being one.

Anyhow, can I tell you about some of my exploits recently? For an ol' codger, I do get around, not in the Tiger Woods sense. I flit like a butterfly in my mind, but unlike Mohammed Ali, I don't sting like a bee, although I'm more tortoise than hare on my pins. By the way, have you heard of the butterfly effect, where a small action like the beating of a butterfly's wings in one place can start a massive chain of events throughout the world? Well, I have cause to know this, 'cos my butterfly mind sometimes allows me to forego inhibitions and say and do some rash things. What about the time I told a very large chap to 'take the weight off', when I offered him a seat? Whoops! If looks could kill, yours truly would be chatting to you posthumously from cyber heaven!

Any rate, everything's rush, rush. I have to get my proverbial skates on. Everyone wants a piece of me and there's slim pickin's left. I'd like to give them a piece of my mind, but as above, not much left. I' m skating on thin ice anyway at my grand age of 88. As I said to my medic, Doc. Mia Heads-Dunne, there are 3 people in my relationship- I, myself and my memory. Thing is they only have a passing acquaintance. The doc asked me when this started. I was wreathed in confusion and asked when what started. Wait till you're an octogenarian gal or geezer!

Talking of having too many miles on my dial, I got the old' 'prostrate' (sic?- gladly not- too obscure?) checked last month. When I saw the specialist, a doctor Ima Gunnar-Finishyoff (Russian, I think?) again today, she quipped that she couldn't find her stethoscope after my examination last time. I squirmed on my seat, literally, until she let me in on the joke. Peeps are always doing that to me. I love a good joke like the next bloke, but I don't want to be the ' butt' of the jape, either figuratively or otherwise!

Another 'hairy' moment was the bargain 'full wax' at the local spa. I went in hirsute and came out without my 'hair suit' Chilly round the Trossachs! In any case, I jest. Did you hear about my dodgy hearing? Ad today in press about an aid that doesn't go in the ear and is fully concealed. Where does it go, then? No, dear reader, I already talk outta there, so that wouldn't work!
Was I telling you before about my early rising? (It's in your own minds!) Yep, I have to get up really early in case an emergency arises, like a trouser crisis. Yesterday I tried on 5 pairs before I got one to fasten over my continental shelf. Looks like I'll have to brace myself for braces again and go all 'Wall Street' or else there'll be another devastating crash of trouser round ankles!

My daughter must have noticed my overly proud tum, as she squashed my midriff into the dinner table last Sunday. She's clearly kick-starting my diet by dropping a hint and stirring the pot, in this case, my pot! Although I did think bread and water was a little extreme. I exaggerate, slightly! Mind you, I know it's hard to help people change. At the moment, I have a dilemma with my walking stick. It has a mind of its own. It's like a boomerang, wooden and when you cast it aside, it always comes back and nuts you over the back of the noggin. I don't know whether to welcome it back or chide it. Yes, it's the old carrot and 'stick' debate?

Anyway, my daughter wants to help with my shopping prob. She suggests I write a list and stick to it. I explained my tried and tested method. (I must be the 'test dummy'!) I go in without a list and meander down the aisles, where all the ladies I fancy regularly appear. It makes for an exciting trip, but I come home with duplicates of what's already in the larder, ergo my expanding waistline! Did you hear that sugar is in everything now? That's the latest food 'scare'. My 'beef' is with people who get on their high 'horse' about everything. Boom, boom! Please yourselves! Any road, if you panicked about every 'scare' you wouldn't get up in the morning or you would turn to drink. Guess which one I've done? Hit the bottle? Wouldn't consider it! Might spill it. I jest. Caveat imbiber? Or should that be 'Caveat tardy Bieber'?

What's happening on the home front, Mr. Peeps, you ask? Well, I'm still washing my dishes before I put them into the dishwasher? Is it just me? Also, I got a coffee machine for 'instant' coffee that's not instant. I'm full of 'beans' now? The express espresso lifts the depresso, but my cappuccinos are crapachinos. I must wake up and smell the coffee there!

I like modern gizmos, but I miss my youth. For instance, today's music is mostly bally banjos and gyrating bodies and that's at the pensioners' tea dance. Yes, I used to cut a fine figure on the dance floor, admittedly mostly by standing on ladies' bunions, whilst swaying gently to swing bands. Now, I get too dizzy for all that and have to stay static, which is what most of the music sounds like these days!

Any hoo, I've got to run, or shuffle in my case. You see, as a young dude I went out with 2 twins separately on the same night, but inevitably they told each other and their boyfriends next day. Well, it was like a Benny Hill sketch when they all ambushed me. They chased me for 2 miles until I dived into a passing taxi. They shouted that that was not 'fare'. Ha! The good old' days when I could run. Now there are two of my 'ladies' at the door and I forget what story I've told each of them. Yikes! What will I do? They look menacing. Ah well, that's me in the 'dog house' again!

Yours doggedly yet lapping happily at the bowl of life,

The blogging GogFather (Your friendly, local grumpy ol' geezer)