Farm of Destiny

What I've been thinking about:

1. Sonic the Hedgehog
2. Rudi the Spaniel

The short version of my adult life pre-dog ownership goes like this: 

I want a dog but I live in a flat - I want a dog but I work in an office 9-5 - I want a dog but I like going away last minute - I want a dog but my boyfriend is a farmer so I have to drive to his place if I want to see him - I want a dog but... nothing! - I've got a dog!!!! Look at my dog!!! 

Said dog turned 3 last week. She has no idea, though, mainly because we forgot until Ivie's niece (who owns Rudi's brother) posted a picture of Dougal having a birthday cupcake. That's just under three years of daily chaos and puppy dog eyes (and that's just Ivie). 

I was thinking about the bedlam on this morning's walk and it made me think of a Nintendo game from the 90s. No sooner have I stopped her rolling in dung that I'm watching her like a hawk to make sure she doesn't go in search of rabbits. As soon as those disasters are averted, she jumps in a ditch that is reminiscent of a First World War trench. And all before 8am. 

Unfortunately, I was never really into gaming so I am ill-equipped to deal with this level of brain activity at any time of day. Besides, there doesn't seem to be a trophy for getting your dog home clean (unless you count not having to bathe her in special shampoo before breakfast). 

You'll be unsurprised to hear that I was more of the geeky choose-your-own-adventure type, although I'm not sure anyone under 45 will have any idea what I'm talking about. For the uninitiated, these were books where each page ended with a choice along the lines of, 'If you open the gate, turn to page 17'. If you walk past the gate towards the oak tree, turn to page 23'. Adrenalin-fuelled stuff.

It clearly didn't prepare me for actual gate opening 

Maybe it's time for me to launch a reboot where the choices are things like, 'if your dog disappears and comes back smelling worse than you knew was possible, go home and cry' or, 'if your dog obeys your every command, pinch yourself because it was all a dream'. Not exactly escapist fantasy but they do say write what you know. 

On Balance

What I've been thinking about:

You've got to take the rough with the smooth. 

There are many things that happen in the country that wouldn't even be on your radar in the city, some good, some not so good. 

• We all know that we regularly have to travel a fair distance to join in with something - but when we get there, we'll likely get a warm welcome and bump into one or two people we know (or 17, if you're Ivie). 

• We sometimes don't get to see the high profile exhibitions that go to big city galleries - but we are surrounded by first class artists and makers (don't forget Spring Fling this weekend).

• We don't always get the big blockbuster films the first weekend they come out - but we do sometimes get special premieres before anyone else. 

There's no shortage of good stuff. At the weekend, we pootled along the road in the van and 45 minutes later were set up in Portpatrick ready for wine, sunburn and lie-ins (thanks to Eilidh for minding the dog). A short cliff walk later past the Grand Designs house (that looks like a nuclear bunker) and we were at a beach that would have been hoaching if it wasn't in our secret corner of the world. And it's all pretty much on our doorstep.

Perfect peace

We've been taking the dog swimming on our doorstep recently too (not in the local pool, you understand, that would just be silly). After getting a fright when she was wee, Rudi hasn't been the keenest of swimmers but has been getting a bit more confident lately and throwing herself into the Bruntis. More often than not we have the place to ourselves, which is just as well given how enthusiastically we cheer when Rudi retrieves a stick. 

The Bruntis at Kirroughtree

The whole reason I started thinking about this rough and smooth thing today was that I had to rewash my washing when it was nearly dry because there was a distinctly unfresh aroma in the air (or fresh, depending on what definition of the word you favour). I muttered away to myself that I'd never had to do that in Leith and then I remembered the basement flat I lived in, in Bristol where my clothes were fousty and ready to go in the wash again by the time they'd actually dried. 

It all balanced out though as we finished the day with home-made venison burgers, given to Ivie last week when he was working nearby. I didn't get that in Leith either. Maybe, it's not so rough around here after all.