annanotbob's diary

annanotbob's Diaryland Diary

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You say it's very nice and then you run

Well, it all went downhill after the birthday - overwhelmed, I was. If I'd managed to write here this morning, I'd have said I was feeling much calmer again, but since then I have regained two fish in a tank, now with a noisy pump, and committed to having that dog overnight Monday and Tuesday. So I'm back to agitated, but at a more manageable level.

The fish are Renny's bloody things that I ~~viciously culled~~ looked after during his first year at Uni, as there were no surfaces for the tank in his room. There were about six when I got landed with them, four normal sized shubunkins and a couple of tiny little fuckers. Of the two that survived their last holiday with me, the shubunkin is now fucking massive, though the other remains about an inch long. Ren lives on campus and it's the end of term, so he has to vacate his room by 10 am tomorrow, as does everyone. He is being housed over the summer, but in a different room, which he can't have the key for till noon. That's bad enough with all your books and shit, without a tank of fish, and he'll have to move again in October, so they'll probably stay here till then. Poor sods.

That's possibly not the best intro to the item on how I'm getting a dog on Monday, but I don't think it's as easy to let a dog die by accident, so it'll probably be all right. He's apparently a Lakeland terrier crossed with something smaller, one year old, called Nippy. I'm not having a dog called Nippy. We might call him Helen - that gave me and Sara the giggles when we thought of it before, though I'm more taken with Leanne. Man, I have loved some bad girls called Leanne in my years of teaching... Anyway - I realise I know fuck all about dogs really. I always used to live with dogs, all through my childhood, right up till I left Sammie's dad, but that was 28 years ago.

I know there is something a bit sad about having a dog for a companion, but it's better than not having a companion at all. Fond as I am of Bob the bastard - how could I not be?:

she's not often a lot of fun and hardly ever wants to come down the park and chase squirrels. She'll be pissed off, but she'll get used to it. She still doesn't like Millie much - they snap and snarl at each other - but they share the sofa or the bed now, so long as I'm there too.

The kids are off to Glasto on Tuesday, thank god. I am so looking forward to it - the house to myself for up to a week. I'm bailing out this year.

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