Unstitched!

Well the good news is that the stitches are now out,

the protective pj's are off at last and we can get back to

proper walks and running like the wind again.

No comments please about the big baldy patch or jokes about comb overs.

The Madwoman has already done that.

Although we've heard that roast turkey, taken in sufficient

quantity, is a well-known hair restorer.

You can send us as much of that as you like.

 

 

Brrrrr

Unseasonably cold.

Angel is quite glad to have her pj's on, even if the real reason is to keep her from unpicking her stitches rather than keeping her warm.

And even then she's lying snuggled up to the radiator, toasting her toes on it.

Stitched up again

We have skin like rice paper according to The Madwoman: we think she's referring to the fact that it tears easily.
Angel snagged herself on something last week and had to go to the vet for stitches. So we missed seeing the unicorn at the Open Air Museum during its enchanted evening last
weekend, and had to stay at home instead. And apart from going into the garden for a wee - on a lead - we can't even go for a walk anywhere ...



 Bored ... So boooorrrrrred ...

Really BORED!

Summer collars

As it's the Madwoman's birthday today we've got all dressed up

in our new summer collars which have just arrived!

The Madwoman ordered them from AK Creations

We think we look rather gorgeous in them if we say so ourselves ...

Now all we need is some summer weather.

Chiltern Extreme Whippets

Up at Chiltern Open Air Museum yesterday to see the heavy horses ...

We assume the term 'heavy horses' is just a polite way of calling them fat.

Seems like a tough way of burning off calories, having to drag humans along behind you.

Or maybe they couldn't afford a motorboat and waterskis.

Or just can't swim.

 

Mind you, we know all about having to tow humans along ...

we took the Madwoman along the course for the Chiltern Extreme Warrior event which

had been held there the day before.

Are you sure it's right and not straight on?

Obviously a Woozle trap:

everyone knows that if you want to catch a Heffalump

you have to dig a pit for it to fall into.

A pond had been made.

Not having brought our wellies with us,

we went round the edge instead.

Yes, we think we can find our way from here!

Chiltern Extreme Whippets, that's us!

And now, we think that refreshments are in order ...

In search of lost toys

The Madwoman changed all the toys in our toy box round again.

 

It's always the same.

The toy you want is ALWAYS at the very bottom of the box,

and you have to take everything out to find it.

<sigh>

We are amused

We had a busy Bank Holiday weekend, but on the Sunday we made time to visit one of our regular haunts, the Chiltern Open Air Museum.

They lay on lots of things to entertain us during the summer, and this weekend provided some wannabe jousters.

Our eyes were drawn to this ...

 We wondered if St. George was maybe trying to get in touch with his inner dragon?

Or perhaps acting as bait to try and draw it out of it's lair?

 

As we watched him striding briskly up and down, in the end we decided that these were silly ideas, and that obviously he was actually an early medieval hang glider. 

 

The Madwoman, ever a picker-of-nits, kept pointing out to us all the anachronisms, such as this medieval horse kitted up in very modern English saddlery ... but we went one better and pointed out to her ...

 

 A horse wearing pyjamas!

Toy story

Toy hospital has become a bit crowded recently,

so the Madwoman finally decided to get the needle, thread and scissors

out and get on with a bit of well overdue surgery

All the patients survived and were returned to the toy box

with a clean bill of health.

 A few had to be returned to the Madwoman for further surgery after Archie,

always keen to be of assistance, 

took it upon himself to check out the strength of the stitching.

May Day

Today is May Day!
And so naturally the Madwoman roused us from our snuggly warm beds at 5 am to go see some Morris Men dancing in the dawn at a nearby pub.
It's jolly cold at 5 am, even if it is May Day. We waited shivering in our coats while the Madwoman tried to find the ice scraper as all the car windows were frozen solid.
We hoped she might give up and we could all go back to bed, but unfortunately she spotted it hiding under a seat. 

At one point they all started whacking away at each other with some sticks, but they weren't a very good aim, and not one of them got a telling blow through.


And no, we have no idea which one was Morris, and some of them weren't even men.
We are baffled by it all, but not so much so that it has stopped us going back to bed. Again.