October 1st 2015
Today I am wearing my funky bow.
I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. All I was doing was mooching around, sniffing the skirting board when I got a ‘ssssshhhhhhh’ from everyone. Not exactly sure I was making that much noise but I tried to sniff more quietly. Difficult if you don’t like the feeling of light headedness and blurred vision. ‘Ssshhhhhhh’ or you’ll be in your basket’. Then I realised what was making them collectively sound like the culmination of a long and arduous day at a pressure cooker convention. They were suffering from Bake-Off Fever.
I realised it happens at the same time every week. I get a rushed dinner, allowed to keep the day bow tie on ( this time funky-bow as we had been out to a local flea market – don’t even think about it!) and well into the evening. They all flopped into chairs, or I should say ‘my’ chairs as when they are out and I am in dog-alone things change around here, and stared.
But then, as the programme started, they all started shouting and laughing at the telly. Apparently one of the experts, and not the one from Liverpool with the attitude, looks just like your very own bow tie maker. Mary Berry, unofficial National Treasure along with Judi Dench, Alan Bennett and Monty Don’s dog Nigel on Gardeners’ World, is the Bake Off person and….well, you can read about Bernadette your bow tie maker here on the website. I can kind of see the resemblance but is it worthy of screeching at the telly every time she comes on the the screen? Obviously it is.
So my sniffing was too loud but their whooping was fine was it? I tried the wet nose on the hand trick to no avail. Please, if you are going to tickle my ears then do it with feeling. I went around them all and even the little one, who usually has plenty of time for quality attention, was engrossed. What can a dog do? Well, obviously with that lot all watching the intricate filling of a cream horn simply meant that the kitchen was unattended. Nice.
Curse the stone floors that make my claws sound like a Orlov the meerkat hammering out a best seller on an old fashioned typewriter, but only a quieter ‘sssshhh’ came from the telly area. Ahhh, the kitchen. I could still hear in the distance ‘but what strength of flour did you use?’ emanating from the other room, followed by the family replies of ‘yeah, how strong mister, how strong??’ They sounded entrenched. I padded towards the noisy, buzzing fridge. ‘The combination of flavours do nothing for me’, followed by my lot saying ‘ nor me’. Good grief, you’re watching telly folks, you can’t taste it with them. But who cares, they were glued to their seats.
I’m not for one minute saying that leftovers of last nights bolognese, an out of date tub of hummus, a shrivelled sweetcorn, half an avocado and some ( apparently) non-edible stuff the old one was going to use to sort out slugs in the garden but ‘must be kept refrigerated before use’ would necessarily win any Bake Off prizes, but it was tasting OK until the curse of the stone floor struck and in came the Fridge Raiders Police.
‘In your basket’ indeed. I’ll speak when the fuss has calmed down.
Your bow tied dog blogger.
Johnny Meringue.
