A bad week for Murphy

What a beautiful morning - glorious sunshine, blue sky and a grand frost. Absolutely splendid weather for us, but not for a short-legged, little brown dog - his 'equipment' gets the freezer treatment and he's not too happy.

You might remember me thinking about a crab-apple and sloe pie? Don't go there. It has nothing to recommend it, apart from giving to some noisy neighbours.

It has been a busy week in our household, on Tuesday it was my birthday - 62, wedding anniversary 36 - with the eldest son - 31, so it was cards everywhere. Where do those funny cards originate from? Some are hilarious, others rude, but much better than the plain old happy birthday ones.

The dog and I were coming home as darkness was falling and once again we watched a herd of geese flying home. It wasn't such a shock this time, I must be getting used to the noise.

Talking of which, there is a long arm of woodland that the pheasants use to roost in, they must be the world's most stupid creature. They announce to the world with the grating call that they are going to bed. Then once in a comfortable tree they proceed to call good night to all their neighbours, who answer back, telling the whole world where they are sleeping.

We watched the shoot last week, seemed the woods were full of beaters and guns, not a lot of shooting though. That night there seemed to be just as many birds in the dormitory.

I drove into Sheffield this week and was delighted by the myriad of colour of the trees on the ring road. There must be some exotic trees to be so colourful, I'll have to get my book out to recognise them. You drive by all year and don't notice them. Paint them yellow, gold and red and they tantalize.

Talking about colours, Murphy and I were out on our perambulations when we saw a flock of gold finches feeding on some teasel. What a marvellous sight. The birds have exotic gold and red markings with a black and red head, they are so bright they appear to not belong in our countryside but in some foreign environment. I'm told they are beautiful songsmiths as well - a case of having it all.

Had to go to hospital this week, really just a MoT. I visited the cardiology department - I had plasters all over my chest and wires everywhere, all connected to a machine that looked like a sewing machine to me. However they said I might survive the journey home and to bring samples back and to give some blood. What happens to all the blood samples after testing, black pudding?

Talking about the pheasants, they drive Murphy wild, what with the squirrels tormenting him, pheasant shouting and the frost freezing bits of him, it's not been a good week for him at all.

Talking of which, here is a profound statement for you...

''You're getting old, when whilst tying your shoe laces, you wonder if you can do anything else whilst down there''.

See you

Buggy Man