Off goes the alarm. Yuk, I pull the covers over my head & bury myself in the downy softness of my duvet.
A soft thud is accompanied by a short series of delicate twitches, followed by a frenzied scrabbling. My toes feel a waft of cold air & a wet sloppy tongue licks them. Yep. you’ve guessed it. My faithful friend desperately wants to partake of her early morning ablutions & I need to get up.
Kettle on – need tea before I go-, while I attend to my own rituals. Gypsy, my faithful hounds name, patiently waits outside the bathroom door. When I emerge she follows me to the kitchen in the hopes of a morsel of food. She is unlucky. Always hopeful, she is well aware that breakfast is served on our return & it has a proviso. She needs to be obedient & not turn a deaf ear to my recalls.
Down the stairs, woolly hat, coat and boots on – me that is not the dog- I paws for thought I have put her harness on, but what about her lead? is there anyone about? are the dogs from the Manor out? Hmm, better be on the safe side, I click on here lead & we are off.
I am lucky enough to live in the beautiful grounds of Great Chalfield Manor, however like all good things in life, it has its draw backs where Gypsy is concerned. While I love her to bits, she does have her moments. Gypsy is a 21 month old, bouncy black Labrador full of spirit & mischief, with a penchant for deafness when the mood takes her. She can hear the rattle of a biscuit packet at a 100 paces, but the cry “Gypsy come”, -unless food related-, has her bounding about like a kangaroo & very vociferous she is too.
Now. my landlord, a cheerful chap & his good lady wife are very tolerant pair, where Gypsy is concerned. Should my hound spot their dogs, Orla & Ming, she’s off. Ming, being the distinguished old lady she is, responds with a sharp snap, of which Gypsy totally ignores & Orla being a young lady, tends to be a bit more physical. “this is my patch” Orla barks, Gypsy’s response being “I want to play, chase me pleaseeee”. So. off I go trying to capture my errant mutt who is completely oblivious to my calls. Around the gardens we go, through the lake, into the Manor – yes, expletives are used by me – finally to be caught by my landlord who lured her into the boot room with a dog treat, allowing me to firmly attach her to the lead. It gives people watching a giggle, but leaves me feeling worn out & determined to do more training. Dog training that is, not marathon training for me.
In the short video clip above, you can follow us over the fields at Great Chalfield & have a preview of the delights we came home to recipes for which can be found at the Recipes page of this site.
We will be back with more rambles in a couple of weeks.
In the meantime: