I was given a present this morning. It was a chilly, park bench meeting supervised by an inordinately high number of Hammersmith and Fulham staff in high viz vests.
We kicked off with a spot of sloe gin and merged into Maderia. But down to business; I was given an Old Berkshire Beagles calendar and I re-gifted it to Bertie. I entered all his engagements for 2021. I hope he won’t notice when Robert and I use it, when we have a few things to look forward to.
Bertie has been a bit down since being bitten. Robert says he’s depressed. I only got a degree in human psychology so am in no position to disagree with his assessment. Anyway, he took Bertie and my AmEx card for an emergency consultation this afternoon. Bert was reluctant to get out of the car and R didn’t want to lift him in case it tore his stitches. Surprisingly, when the vet came out on the street Bertie was thrilled and jumped out tail-wise wagging. He’s going back tomorrow morning for another check-up because it’s a Bank Holiday and the AmEx card likes attention.
If you have teenage children you may recognise his bedroom. It’s a bit of a mess. Bertie’s a wonderful beagle but see the new year in dancing around and imagine you are as wonderful as Fred and Rita. Happy New Year!
One of the many pleasures of this blog is following the absorbing adventures of C J Bellew, however with Christopher confined to barracks we have enjoyed following the social life of Bertie during the festive period.
His misadventure has fuelled much table talk; the suggestion of a Vet bill running to 5 figures caused Her Ladyship female hysteria and the loss of a nights sleep. When she suggested that such an extortionate amount was implausible, even at London prices, I assured her not to doubt, as Christopher would, in all likelihood, reproduce a copy of the bill in a future post as he has an habitual tendency towards sharing images of receipts.
The next day he obliged, and I informed Her Ladyship that the bill had indeed amounted to five figures, though with a critically placed decimal point. We mused on how different life in London is to that of rural Ireland. We rarely ever employ the services of a Veterinary Surgeon, as if any of our animals become ill or injured we simply contact Mrs Mallon. Mrs Mallon is a local lady who possesses ‘cures’ for a host of different ailments from sprains to bleeding, warts to dropsy (though as yet not Covid-19). Her charms are equally efficacious on human as animal, so if your wife has sprained her ankle or your heifer has developed ringworm (or vice versa) its Mrs Mallon to the rescue. There are three precepts which much be strictly observed if obtaining a cure: (i) you must believe the charm will work (ii) you must not say ‘thank-you’ (iii) you must not offer any monetary payment. So had Berties injury happened in Ireland, Mrs Mallon could have performed her healing, we would have given him a few spoons of Cognac and plonked him beside the Aga overnight. Christopher would have a healthier bank balance, and the funds saved could have been redirected to something much more requisite, viz. employing the services of a valet to undo those fiddly buttons.
We have wider concerns however regarding Berties mental health. We believe the issue is primarily with his environment (the images on his calendar demonstrate this perfectly). Simply put, he is spending too much time mingling with the pampered pooches of Kensington and Chelsea, instead of sprinting across a field of stubble with the pack. Bertie is a Beagle, sadly his masters treat him like a Bichon Frise.
Like other