So it seems we can get a British man up to the International Space Station but two women and a Mini have an epic fail trying to get out of a pothole! Major Tim Peake made it all the way up to space with the whole of the humble British public cheering him on and even some star turns aiding him in his space voyage too. The Queen sent him a telegram that fortunately he actually got. I didn’t know Royal Mail delivered up in space but I guess if it’s order of the British Empire and if the Queen sent it by recorded delivery every special attempt will have had to be made. Then there was pop royalty getting in on the act too with Sir Elton “Rocket Man” John and Sir Paul McCartney sending messages. The launch was so very exciting in our house. Joolsy got her special brew (tea not the alcoholic version popular with park bench sitters in the 1990s) and a Malted Milk biscuit out and her and Elsie sat on the sofa counting down the rocket until it blasted off. I think Joolsy’s still excited about the whole Mr Spoon and Button Moon gazing escapades from the other week, that this Professor Brian Cox fest has just got her all a quiver. I on the other paw just laid looking through the skylight from my very own landing pad to see whether I had a better vantage point of the rocket should it whizz passed our house. The rocket made it safely to the International Space Station and the Astronaut’s families were able to have a Skype/Face Time chat with them. Joolsy remarked that they can get a marvellous signal from all that way but sometimes she can’t get a network signal or Wifi to work here on Planet Earth. It’s only a six hour flight Joolsy if you are that desperate to talk. Mind you BT did once say it was good to talk, they must have worked with some leading doctors to come up with that advertising golden nugget. We all look at each other, Elsie and I included every time the phone rings like it’s an insult to our silent tranquility! Mum and Joolsy found themselves lost up a driveway last night, they obviously don’t have Major Tim Peake’s directional abilities at all! Joolsy had driven her car all of a hundred yards (the governments metric incentive hasn’t reached me as a Cocker Spaniel yet) down to our friends house for a Christmas come birthday drinks party. An event Mum was pleased had occurred as she had already kicked her shoes off when Joolsy arrived and didn’t fancy the walk back up the road home. On leaving Dad decided (wisely it would evidently seem) to walk back and all Joolsy had to do was reverse down the curvy driveway. Easier said than obviously done. They started moving backwards (in the pitch black darkness Joolsy insists I type here) with Mum directing, “You need to get your right hand down to avoid the tree!” There are trees either side of the drive both with conservation/protection orders on them so Joolsy was acutely aware that it would be on pain of death that she drove into one in her Primrose Mini. They got to the bottom of the drive a little on the grass but hey no one was watching then could go no further. Joolsy tried reversing and then going forward with a wine filled Mum instructing her but to no avail, they were stuck in a pothole! Mum started giggling like a school girl and then Joolsy started the instructions of, “Go get Russell and Chris they will have to push us out!” After telling Mum a few times as the orders didn’t seem to filter through properly with her Prosecco brain in full overload mode Mum went back and got the heroes of the hour to come bump them out of the hole. Dad, Elsie and I have been for our usual morning stroll today with our CSI hats firmly on our heads to see if Joolsy, Mummy and most importantly Primrose had done any lasting damage to the grass. Horatio Caine from CSI Miami will be filing a full and thorough report for us but I’m pleased to announce that our primary investigations show that Joolsy did just get stuck down a pothole. We have been singing the Some Mother’s Do ‘Ave ‘Em theme tune all morning though as I swear Joolsy is related to Frank Spencer in some way. Although Joolsy may have to go something to get her car stuck on the edge of a cliff just like Mr Spencer did. However I better stop typing this section of my blog now as I don’t want to give her any ideas. I will say this though, I don’t think Sir Michael Caine would have be too proud of Joolsy’s Mini driving skills as they are hardly the Italian Job finesse. Mind you I don’t think on this occasion it would’ve been necessary to blow the bloody doors off! 

This wasn’t the only disaster to befall Joolsy this weekend. Indeed it was Joolsy who took a fall on Saturday evening rushing to get home for her (and mine and Elsie’s) fortnightly treat of Mama’s Lasagne (I’m drooling as I’m typing this now) followed by the Strictly Come Dancing final. Joolsy went down like a rugby playing supremo who was scoring a game winning try. The only thing she forgot apart from her rugby ball was to protect her left knee. It was a good attempt though without any rugby skills training. So in the house she limped and onto the Calpol she went to relieve her sore and aching knee. There was no jiving from Joolsy on Saturday evening (she was on oh ahhh sofa rest) and disappointingly no jiving from eventual Strictly winner Jay and Aliona either. They decided to perform another of their favourite dances ahead of the fans favourite jive with a Pulp Fiction quirky twist. We all thought this would prove to be their downfall as the other contestants pulled out all the stops but dancing talent prevailed and Jay was crowned Strictly Come Dancing champion 2015. So I’ll be hanging up my dancing shoes until next years competition kicks off, when Dad and I get to do a Waltz around the living room once more.

Now Postman Pat may have had Jess his black and white cat (singalong if you know the theme tune here please) but Mum and Dad had a Cocker Spaniel and a noisy ever barking Yorkshire Terrier whilst they were making their Christmas card deliveries around the village this past week. It turned out to be a weight training session for Mum and Dad too. No, although they are popular within village life and have made lots of lovely friends mainly bumping into folk whilst walking Elsie and I. They knew lots of the dogs names firstly and then moved onto their owners names sometime after. It was us they ended up carrying in the end not a sack full of cards due to areas of the village being so waterlogged through all the rainfall we’ve had. Don’t Elsie and I know it, we get dragged out first thing on a morning and then again mid-afternoon (whether we want to be or definitely not) when it’s all wet and bleak. We often retreat to hide in Joolsy’s room but like well trained members of a search and rescue team they always seem to find us! This particular day we had to make a delivery down a road we’ve been avoiding for weeks due to its boggy conditions. We started going down it and were getting further and further into this puddle. I looked at Dad to offer him my best pick me up now plea and Elsie looked at Mum as the water was lapping the top of her imaginary wadders. This for Elsie was one paw print away from going to the top of the Health and Safety Executives (HSE) list. For me it was a matter of sheer vanity and hatred of all things wet, well apart from the lovely warm showers at the grooming salon. However for Elsie it was a matter of life or death. She could have been swept away, well in a puddle like a little Yorkie drowned rat. Anyway in a nick of time we were both safe and sound in Mum and Dad’s arms and carried to a drier patch of the lane. We’d never make to SAS would we? Once home Elsie was put in the sink for her second bathing of the day and the 50th bath of the winter season so far. These little dogs with their little legs being so low to the ground, mucky or what? Also the towels had to have a little bath of their own in the washing machine. Fortunately Carson and Mrs Patmore (Mum and Dad) sorted that domestic duty out as Elsie and I dried out by the radiator.

Lastly for today I wish you all a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays from Elsie and I. We are both looking forward to sitting and smelling the turkey cooking in the oven on Christmas morning then having a nibble of it after our families lunch is over, scrumptious!

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