I admit there are other stories of my Broadland adventure. Well, when a dog’s got to go, then a dog’s got to go and if you take ages mooring the boat and the first thing I come to is the mooring post with the rope tied to it, then I am going to pee on the rope! Of course I didn’t know at that point that I was going to make the acquaintance of two Westies who were going to consider it their duty, as my new friends, to pee on the rope after me. My Mistress quietly had the sense to leave the others to do the untying of the boat when we moved. She simply suggested that they wash their hands when they came in.
If they are going to make me confess to all my little escapades, then I’m just going to have to spill the beans on theirs. James and Andy seemed to think it was a good idea to go fishing. I opted out of this one. My Mistress refused to have the tins of maggots inside the boat and easily convinced the boys by explaining what they hatch into after a few days. What actually happened was that the boys did quite well, whilst under the supervision of a boy from another boat, but when they got their own rods, it just meant my Mistress and my Master spending all evening unknotting their lines.
My Mistress’s funny moment was when we were going round a ‘wetland’ nature trail. There were boards to walk on, except she missed and ended up ankle deep in mud. It was probably fortunate that she was wearing basketball boots when it happened, as at least the mud just coated the outside of them, rather then squelching down inside. They were yellow with little ladybird pictures on them, but frankly, I don’t think they’ll ever be yellow again, more sort of muddy brown mustard colour. I think the ladybirds drowned.