Thursday 19th February 2009

If only mud were a saleable commodity, this village would be the richest place on earth. Instead, those of us who walk round here sport brown spotted legs for most of the time. How does mud splatter so effectively when you walk? Admittedly it is a particularly wet sort of mud with a very fine consistency, but how do I manage to splash it over my whole body and all up my Mistress’s legs? I’m beginning to think she’s justified in having a shower room inside the back door of the new house, although to be truly effective she would have to get in it each day fully clothed.

We are onto the decisions of what sort of floor coverings we want for the new house. My Master wants carpet, because it’s warm under his feet. My Mistress wants hard flooring, because it is easier to keep clean. I want underfloor heating so that I can curl up anywhere. It’s funny how we all approach it from equally valid but opposing arguments. A certain amount of compromise is taking place, at least between my owners but I am being denied the underfloor heating. I’m going to have to put in a bid for an electric blanket instead.

My Mistress and I sat down and had a bit of a heart to heart over a cup of coffee yesterday. We are both feeling frustrated with our writing and want to make some progress. I was all for giving up, but she persuaded me to carry on. She tried to remind me of all the famous writers who have had loads of setbacks before achieving great success. I asked how many of them were dogs, but she said I shouldn’t look at it like that.