These boots were made for walking...
Words from a Bird. Day 103
Yesterday was the first day that I had to take the two dogs out for their early walk before I headed off to work. This normally falls into the remit of the husband's responsibilities. As he works outdoors, he is usually suitable attired for whatever the weather has to throw at him, so it makes sense for him to walk them rather than me. I don't mind doing the afternoon one, as I can change from my work clothes into dog-appropriate clobber.
But yesterday, as the rain, which was 'almost-cold-enough-to-be-snow' hurled itself at the windows, he sprung a lovely surprise on me (steady ladies, it was a Monday for goodness sake).
'I have to leave early today. Can you walk the boys this morning?'
Well I had just washed my hair, and was already dressed in my office gear, so you can imagine that on a scale of 1 to 10 on the Pi**ed Off Scale, I was definitely in double figures.
'No problem. I expect the second flood (think Noah and his Ark) will subside soon. I'll give it ten minutes so I don't have to make the dogs wear lifejackets (they're both very short)'.
Ten minutes turned into twenty, and with no letting up of the wet stuff, I threw on my waterproof coat and wellies, and headed out with the dogs. I had already decided to leave the umbrella at home, as the combination of two leads, a gale force eight and torrential rain had potential disaster (|and a possible relocation if the wind was strong enough) written all over it.
I had also decided not to wear a hat. As a naturally curly girl, I knew that squashing my still wet hair under a bobble hat would not do me any favours. If you can imagine Beaker from the Muppets, you'd not be far off.
So the long and short of it, is that the wind kept blowing my hood off, so my wet hair got even wetter. I then slipped off the wooden stile, scuffing my smart, black trousers on the way down. The final straw was Reg and Percy coming at me in a Pincer Movement at the top of a particularly slippery slope. I really didn't stand a chance...Two dirty knees, and mud rammed under my fingernails.
The only good thing was that by the time I headed for home, the rain had stopped, so the dreaded hood could stay down while the wind dried my hair like a hairdryer stuck on the Turbo button.
Which is why, half an hour later, I looked like a mad sheep crossed with Chi-Chi the panda who had just finished an army assault course.
It's not the best of looks...
Yesterday was the first day that I had to take the two dogs out for their early walk before I headed off to work. This normally falls into the remit of the husband's responsibilities. As he works outdoors, he is usually suitable attired for whatever the weather has to throw at him, so it makes sense for him to walk them rather than me. I don't mind doing the afternoon one, as I can change from my work clothes into dog-appropriate clobber.
But yesterday, as the rain, which was 'almost-cold-enough-to-be-snow' hurled itself at the windows, he sprung a lovely surprise on me (steady ladies, it was a Monday for goodness sake).
'I have to leave early today. Can you walk the boys this morning?'
Well I had just washed my hair, and was already dressed in my office gear, so you can imagine that on a scale of 1 to 10 on the Pi**ed Off Scale, I was definitely in double figures.
'No problem. I expect the second flood (think Noah and his Ark) will subside soon. I'll give it ten minutes so I don't have to make the dogs wear lifejackets (they're both very short)'.
Ten minutes turned into twenty, and with no letting up of the wet stuff, I threw on my waterproof coat and wellies, and headed out with the dogs. I had already decided to leave the umbrella at home, as the combination of two leads, a gale force eight and torrential rain had potential disaster (|and a possible relocation if the wind was strong enough) written all over it.
I had also decided not to wear a hat. As a naturally curly girl, I knew that squashing my still wet hair under a bobble hat would not do me any favours. If you can imagine Beaker from the Muppets, you'd not be far off.
So the long and short of it, is that the wind kept blowing my hood off, so my wet hair got even wetter. I then slipped off the wooden stile, scuffing my smart, black trousers on the way down. The final straw was Reg and Percy coming at me in a Pincer Movement at the top of a particularly slippery slope. I really didn't stand a chance...Two dirty knees, and mud rammed under my fingernails.
The only good thing was that by the time I headed for home, the rain had stopped, so the dreaded hood could stay down while the wind dried my hair like a hairdryer stuck on the Turbo button.
Which is why, half an hour later, I looked like a mad sheep crossed with Chi-Chi the panda who had just finished an army assault course.
It's not the best of looks...
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