Staple diet...................

 

 

 

The joy of having young Bing about the house comes in many forms. Frankly, one either loves hounds or not. I, of course fit snugly into the former, and am accused of being an ‘easy touch’ when it comes to the lad and his manoeuvring of unsuspecting old poops, like me.

I refute this charge utterly. I may appear to be somewhat slack at times, when it comes to taking command of the young lad. I am though, of the belief that my gentle approach, while not appearing to be firm is definitely of the school of ‘slowly, slowly catchy monkey’ or in this case, ‘Bingo.’

‘Ah-ha!’ I hear you shout. ‘Here speaks one who has had the wool well and truly pulled over his eyes.

Nonsense! I refuse to be likened to some sort of ‘blind Pew’ when spending time with Bing! I like to think that when it comes to our ‘relaxed’ relationship, it is in fact I, who has a firm grip on the reins of propriety.



‘Busy guv?’

The boy has just wandered into the study, and having inspected the waste bin and decided there is nothing of note to ‘nosh’ within, is now looking enquiringly at me.

‘Um…..busy?……well….um….not as such.’

‘And so forth?’

‘Well……….’

He moves closer and rests his chin on my knee.



‘What are all those guv?’

I look back at the desk and there are 8 yes Eight boxes of staples, all of varying sizes! I’m trying to match ‘em up to the various staplers sitting next to them. Mini type’s and middle sized and then larger ones. Two boxes appear to be for machinery long lost.

‘Bing I think it’s time for some of these to go.’

‘Really?’

‘Well they rarely get used.’

‘You don’t read all those books do you?’

‘Ah yes well of course they are for reference and such.’

‘Really?’

This is the second time really has been used and I’m starting to flounder.

‘Well yes, you see you never know when you might need to check something.’

‘I see. I suppose the same could be said about those things.’

He nods towards my collection of stapler’s.

‘Um, well…er I suppose…….’

‘Pop ‘em back in one of your many drawers guv,’

Of course the lad is quite right. Lets face it, whenever I seem to give something the heave-ho, I can generally guarantee I’ll need it within the following month….or so.

Back they go, and I feel happier for it.

‘I think a celebratory stroll is in order old poop.’

Once again, I have been delightfully manoeuvred into a bright and breezy trundle, by a hound.

Me? An easy touch?



‘It’s luvverly out here guv.’

‘Quite.’

‘I thought we’d never get out here.’

‘M’mmmm.’



Hooter up and tail wagging, the lad tows me up the pavement. We reach the edge of our dear old forest and, the real stroll commences.