And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, On your imaginary forces work.........

I am being looked at.

I’m trying to ignore the eyes attempting to discern any change, not only in the weather, but in my preference for staying snug in the house, and not being blown by a south westerly of particularly vigorous proportions.

 

A hooter is twitching ever so slightly, in the hope that any change of thought on my part might be gauged by the particularly sensitive scenting device attached to the lad, who, as I have said, is peering intently at me.

I clear my throat, and ears are pricked, ready to hear any good news.

This is not forthcoming, and so a chin is returned to the rug and another sigh is given.

Bing is not subtle when it comes to airing his thoughts regarding old poops, and their spoilsport attitude to taking the air and such like and so forth!

I continue to read the same passage from a magazine for the third time, longing to be able to uncross my legs and find something more interesting to read. If I do….I say if I do or even dare, to change my current posture, the boy Bing will be up like a shot, tail wagging and positive that I have relented and like him, cant wait to be out and about.

I ‘M’mmmm’, as if I’ve read something of great significance. I nod and give an apparent sniff of approval, and another sigh reaches me from the lad who changes his position with a huff and most definitely a puff.

I have managed this tense scene rather well, but the lad nearby is far too bright for an old duffer, and in an unguarded moment, I let myself relax and I shift my position on the settee. Like a blur the lad has jumped up beside me, and before I you can say Grand Basset Griffon Vandeen, the said member of that particular family is in full flow!



‘Blimey guv I thought we were never gonna pop out!’

‘But, but, but I haven’t…..’

‘Got a coat? It’s on it’s usual hook guv.’

‘Yes, but, but…..I really….’

‘Don’t know where the lead is old poop. It’s on the hall chair where Tom left it.’

‘I need to…’

‘Stock up with a snack or three? You know where they are old fruit.’

I make one last effort to remain in charge of this situation.

‘Bing, I really don’t think….’

‘South Lowtown Park?, Cor, I should cocoa! ‘It’s far too windy and such.’

‘Well yes….’

‘That’s why you are quite right, we should pop up to the forest? Great idea, I don’t mind if I do guv, I don’t mind if I do!’

Once again, the iron resolve of this particular old poop, has been undermined by, the young chap currently towing me up the pavement. Fortunately, We have a tail wind this morning and the immediate slope up to the forest is made with comparative ease, soon we engaged in the familiar efforts of gaining the top of our favourite little hill.

And here,
the leaves are shivering, responding to a brisk south-westerly.
And here,
high bows on beeches, are flexed by the blow,
And here,
a squirrel is being blown along the branch.
And here,

there’s an inquiring face…….

‘Oi! There’s a chap a-waiting for some nosh.’

And here,
there’s an old poop quite pleased to be out and about….

Oh but for goodness sake……….don’t tell the lad!