I must say it’s very decent of Himself to lend me his glasses so I can scribe another bulletin from the frontline of domestic life, which is just as well as He seems to be more interested in canoodling than writing these days.
Love! I ask you.
He’s spending a lot more time in London. I go with him of course to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble. I’ve even been on a thing called the London Underground (so-called because it goes under the ground – how wildly imaginative you humans are). I didn’t like it much: lots of people with big feet, not looking where they were going; it’s a wonder they didn’t tread on my tail.
There are lots of houses in London and a distinct lack of fields. Mostly I walk Himself on the pavement but we went to a park yesterday so I was able to let him off the lead for a while. I swam in the duck pond and then stood guard outside the café as he had a flat white.
I’ve no idea what a flat white is (except that it isn’t flat and it isn’t white) but it must be very precious because he muttered something about costing more than a week’s worth of dog biscuits as he handed over a fistful of coins to the man behind the counter in return for a miniscule container of warm brown liquid. The man spoke quietly but I heard words such as artisanal, organic, single estate, tasting notes, hand-roasted, and hipster.
Apparently we’ve acquired a new life style.