Sometimes, on days like yesterday, I meet myself coming back from wherever I've been. I do wonder how I manage to fit so much in but I suppose getting up at 5.30 am every weekday does give me a head start.
So yesterday I managed to do a full morning at Binland, clinching three deals and finishing off with a glorious conversation with a Chinese lady. I will never again say the words 'loo roll' without remembering her fondly. It was then back home for a swift change (taking time to admire the work of my wonderful Lady H who has a knack for restoring sanity in my house), then I piled the dogs in the car, drove to the woods and had a lovely walk with them, and then we all drove off to the Mother's with the plan of a cup of tea with her and Miss R.
And there I was, minding my own business, singing away to a Barry Manilow song (alright, admit it, you like him too) when all of a sudden I was faced with several people in the road trying to round up a black labrador who seemed to have slipped his lead. Shutting the sunroof and windows so that my two couldn't get out and join in the fun, I put the hazard lights on, and got out to help.
There was a young chap in hi-vis who seemed to be in charge, and I asked him what the dog was called.
'He's called Betty', he said.
Thinking to myself that either that was one very confused dog, or the lad's parents hadn't done a proper job on the whole sex education front, I found myself shouting, 'Come on Betty, there's a good boy'.
Something in my voice must have caught his/her attention because it turned and hurtled towards me. Thinking I was doing a very good job at blocking its access behind my car, I adopted the position of a starfish (with the accompanying 'Hah!' (I should say at this point that I just may have watched City Slickers too many times) and the bloody dog ran through my open legs only to be wrestled to the ground by an old man who shot out of the hedge next to me, making me jump. Slipping the lead over Betty's head, I heard him telling him off for being a naughty boy. Listening to this, it all made sense why Betty had done a runner. Perhaps he was on the lookout for a surgeon to make him a real woman...
So thankfully it was a happy ending. Getting back to my car, Percy and Reg were sitting in the driver and passenger seats like a couple of hairy pensioners, and there was some coercion needed to 'persuade' them to get into the back. This took the form of several biscuits launched across the parcel shelf, and had to be done rather hurriedly, as a long queue had started to form behind me.
Tea was welcome at the Mother's, and it was straight home again after that and out to Pilates for the second time this week.
And my day ended with son number two, who is off to Leeds in a few weeks' time to get some more education (other than the 'How Many Bottles Of Frosty Jack Can I Drink Before I Fall Over?' lesson) saying to me, 'Can you find me a space for my car in Leeds?'
After the day I've had? Oh, I'd love to...