Day: July 9, 2018

Training End…

Tonight I would usually take Mazikeen out to training classes, I decided I did not want to go, although guilt slipped in for a moment.  Lately, in the class, I think Mazikeen is bored too as the last few weeks she has starts playing up and ignores instructions.  She is great during the day and I feel the evening class is too late for her finishing at 9:30 pm, her attention is zapped and so is mine after a day of number crunching.  M and I talked about the training as Mazikeen is not learning anything extra at the moment, we just seem to repeat the same things over and over each week.  Some of the other dogs don’t catch on and struggle, but Mazikeen is hyper-intelligent and usually only a few repeats of something and she has it.

She is 10 months now and definitely is Daddies little girl.  Oh, I am Daddy and M is Dad.  She follows me about and likes to sit in my lap, so thank the lord she is small, as when Harper decides she wants to do the same I am crushed under 22kg of fidgety dog.  If I have a treat in my hand I can get her to do anything I want, even today whilst out in the forest off lead she never strayed too far, and when I called her, knowing I may have treats she came back.  This does not work for Harper who has her own agenda whilst out, so never gets off the lead unless we are in one of the small fields by the house.

We finally came to the conclusion that the training classes were not working for us and any training we do will be done from home the way we have successfully trained all our other dogs.  This was never going to be a permanent thing, and I did like the idea of doing agility, but Mazikeen has a busy and fulfilling life without adding competitions and constant training to her schedule.  For an English Springer, she is only small, and I think all the work will take its toll on her.  Even though she was first born she was the smallest of the litter and all her brothers and sisters are massive in comparison, so I have to take that into consideration.  The vet told us the other month that her ovaries are not fully developed and that will be down to her being small, hence not having her first season yet.

I think we have made the right decision for her and any training will be a lot more fun now rather than sitting about waiting for her turn in class.

Klytus, I’m bored…

It’s not just Emperor Ming, I am too.  I have no idea why and what is going on in my head, but I just have that “cannot be arsed” feeling and nothing, nothing seems to take it away.  I think it’s boredom setting in and it’s dragging me down a little.  I can not settle into doing anything and as soon as I start something BANG! Bored again.

The heat is not helping either, and I think it is driving my boredom to the next level, hence not being able to settle.  I am part way through about 15 books and can’t get myself to finish any of them.  I picked up a hat I was knitting and put it down again.  Thought to look at some of the courses I want to do and instantly closed the screen with a sigh.  M suggested a few films to watch and I was very “whatever”.

This morning I did not want to get out of bed, not for any other reason than “the same shit, different day” theory.  I was not wrong.  Took the dogs for a walk in the forest, cooked liver and other things for them, pottered about the garden and some cleaning and watched a bit of TV.

I know I am having a moan and will forgive you all for rolling your eyes at me, but I am sure that my brain will have a soft restart and services will be back to normal.  I hope it will be like Apples OS High Sierra’s update and I wake up with a new a more dynamic get up and go.

Penpals…

I wondered the other day, how many of us had penpals when we were growing up, and how many of us had them when we were adults too?

I never had a penpal when I was a kid, living in a small village (of French origin) there was not exactly an opportunity to have one, hell, my primary school consisted of just 28 pupils, and apart from general subjects with a huge overdose of religion, yes it was connected to the church, there was nothing to inspire people to look further than their own garden gate.  No one I knew ever went on a foreign holiday, it was all quite alien.

When I was in my early 20’s I decided I wanted a pen pal, the internet did not exist, so this became a challenge.  I had no idea where to start.  By this point, I was working in the city, and on my lunch popped into WH Smiths as I knew they had international papers and odd publications you would never find elsewhere.  The New York Herald had nothing in at all but was an interesting read.  I tried several foreign publications including Le Monde, but nothing seemed to have the information I wanted.  In the end, I asked one of the staff there if they could recommend something, and to my surprise, she knew exactly the paper.  It was one called Loot, which had every conceivable advert you could think of, and I guess you would compare it to Craigs List on paper.  Adverts for cults, sex, personals, animals, you name it, it was getting sold in this paper, then close to the back, there it was, penpals.  I have no idea where they got the information, but I jumped right on it.

I ended up with quite a few people I wrote to, which suited me well as there was a great shop called Athena that sold coloured writing paper and envelopes, and there was also a few places you could get other designs of writing paper too just around the corner from work.  Some of my pals dropped off and stopped replying, so I dropped them too, but I had two that were constant writers, both from California, one Heather from Burbank and the other Rocko from San Diego.

Both came to visit me.  Rocko was a little over the top and was a party animal.  I was living about 2 miles away from the city at the time, so nightlife was easy to get to and walking home was good.  He was supposed to stay for a week, which I took off work, however, he stayed for a lot longer, which really was a strain as I was used to living on my own and in the end it really started to affect our friendship and my bank balance.  His friend was killed when he was over and that was my queue to make him go home, which was a battle.  He was not convinced that he should go, even though it was his best friend, but I persisted and eventually, he went after staying for about 6 weeks.  I heard from him once more after that, and then he vanished without a trace.

Heather, however, was a delight when she came to visit me.  It was 1998 and I had moved to a seaside town 25 miles away from the city, and she was touring again.  We had a great time, she only stayed for a few days as she was covering a lot of the UK visiting penpals and distant family.  We carried on writing for many years, then the internet came with email, so we ended up emailing each other, which was novel at the time, but I really missed getting snail mail.  Our emails slowed down over the years but still kept going, however, they soon stopped when FaceBook arrived.  To this day we are still in touch with each other through FB, but it’s not the same excitement that was felt when a letter dropped through the door.  I have FB but don’t really bother with it, as I really don’t feel the need to see every aspect of everybody’s life, warts and all, so it is there for the odd message and to keep up to date with the dog trainers.

About 10 years ago, I tried to start up writing again with penpals and had a few who then all wanted to swap to email, talk about colour me disappointed.  M started about 6 years ago to write to a few American prisoners, who were all quite charming, but then the begging letters started, asking for him to send money to them.  He did, to begin with as he knew they did not have much, but this turned out to be an error and they asked for more and more, and unfortunately, he ended up cutting ties.

I keep thinking that I would like to have penpals again, but knowing the way past ones have wanted to switch to email puts me off, and as for writing to prisoners, I would be happy to do that, but hey, I do not need someone that begs for cash in each letter.

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