No Horses Head In My Bed Yet

We have a leisurely start to the day for saying it's a dog show day. Which gives us enough time for one course from last night's menu of lust, lunacy, and murder.

We leave at 10am. The show is near Lincoln and we drop L and Daughter off there. They're going shopping. A girl thing.

The show goes well. A much better all round performance from Doggo. We record three clear rounds out of three. All too slow to get a rosette but rosettes are only given out to the top 10 and as they are all grade 5 only events, so it's not surprising we don't get one. We've only graced the top 10 in grade 5 on 4 occasions this season. It's tough at the top, as they say.

We put in a creditable performance at Clever Dogs, which is combined Agility and Flyball. It’s probably the Clever Dogs that stuffs our rosette chances because we do this before our last two agility runs. We have several practice sessions on the Flyball part, four I think. Then we do the whole course, quite quickly in 25 seconds, but then they tell us that was just a practice as well and now we have three timed runs to do. Doggo, who is already looking creased, does the first one, again in 25 seconds, before deciding that enough is enough and goes off to hide behind my parents.

I manage to talk him into one last attempt and he does me proud. 23 seconds. So we decide not to take up our option of a third run, well Doggo decides. Anyhow it’s the best time out of three that counts and I couldn't see us improving on that. Hopefully it might get us into next August's final but we'll see.

My father has now moved onto Harry Potter book two. The infection is spreading.

The Sunday papers are full of Anelka's lucky deflected equaliser and not Derby's far superior goal but that's the media for you.

Back home I cook up mince and pasta for tea and enjoy a tinny of Wadsworth 4X. It's actually rather nice. Oh dear, does this mean I'm becoming one of the Government's notorious binge drinkers? I dilute it with two glasses of red wine.

Daughter (hello there, I need as many readers as I can get) discovers my blog, on a tip off from L. Surprisingly she takes it rather well. At least I don't think I'll be coming home to a horses head in my bed. Daughter won't understand that statement; we've not taken her to see the Godfather yet. The downside, I think it's a downside, is that she now thinks I'm a sex maniac. Although L reassures her by saying that all men are. Funny thing is we keep seeing all these plays and films where the women are the ones doing all misbehaving and bed hopping. Hmmm. Also Daughter herself is reading that diary by the self-confessed sex obsessed mad woman. Hmmm.