After all the rain, it’s sub-aqua equipment my Mistress should have been borrowing rather than balls to throw at coconuts. The day has finally arrived and she is off to set up the stalls ready in the hope of a bright sunny afternoon. The weather was so bad round by us yesterday that half the routes out of the village were impassable with the flooding. I was starting to wonder if it was actually possible for the water to cut us off completely but no one seems to remember that ever happening.
When she isn’t thinking about coconuts, she is carefully packaging up her novel to send to possible agents. It wouldn’t be so bad if they all wanted the same thing, but they don’t. Some want three chapters, some want two and some want the first thirty pages. You should have seen her trying to make sure she put the right things in the right envelopes. She still has to take them all to the Post Office to be weighed before she can post any of them.
There are times when my country of birth seems even more crazy than this country. An underpant museum has opened, in which the artist displays underwear from famous people, where they are willing to hand them over and depicts what other famous people might look like in their underwear. I’m wondering whether this is the ultimate form of democracy, reducing everyone to the same level or whether it undermines the democratic process to think of our leaders in this basic way. A small appeal that I think I can honestly make on behalf of most of the British population, dogs and humans alike, please don’t show us what you think Gordon Brown would look like in his undies, I don’t think we could take it.