Venture Capitalists

This morning I don't have to be up so early because I'm driving to work again. It's pub day. I consider grabbing L by the ankle with my teeth, just like MD does, to prevent her getting out of bed to go walk the dogs. I suppose, if I tried that, she'd quell my ardour by rattling her bottle of rocks at me. As it happens, in the end, I don't have to.

Before I head off to work, I even managed a game of ‘double’ football with the dogs, both chasing after different balls. That is until Doggo puts a stop to it by taking MD’s ball off him. He's trying so hard to be the Alpha dog. He'd be quite ferocious if he put his heart into it.

It's a tad annoying that after driving in to work I discover that our pub trip is off. My partner in crime on our pub trips has been struggling with a bad back and yesterday afternoon he went for physiotherapy. Well I don’t know what they did to him but he hasn’t come in today. So I opt for good old Sainsbury’s instead, rather than wait to see what vans don’t turn up.

L's stressed, I can tell that even on email. Today she has patients interspersed with meetings with venture capitalists, who all have Noel Edmonds type jumpers on. She's got a downer on venture capitalists and she's not even totally sure what one is, all she knows is that it's something to do with the odious beast (money). She should at least have looked them up on Wikipedia first.

She warns me that if we're out tonight, she's on the wine and tells me she's considering joining a commune, she reckons she'll be well suited to commune life. It’s would have to be a Belgian commune, those Trappists brew their own beer. I might even join her. Some of these Trappists make cheese as well, which would be just perfect, although it would play havoc with L's diet. The collies would love it, running around the commune all day, chasing the cows and the chickens and chewing things.

In the end we're on the Supreme, L goes straight to the gym after work and I meet her outside after I've run the dogs around the pond. We walk down to the pub. The run was all a bit too much for MD and I ended up carrying him at one point. Unfortunately, he's now far too porky to be carried too far; I certainly can't run with such a great lump in my arms.