Day 630: Dog Toff

stop doing this to me

One tiny dog in a tweed jacket has the power to make a person's whole day, if that person is me. 

This morning, I was thrilling at the fact that now is the time where dogs strut their stuff in a range of clothes that would put C&A to shame not for reasons of (their owners' idea of) canine fashion, but because it's cold and they're little or lanky or maybe even hairless. It's very funny. I saw a spaniel in a wax jacket and a tiny mongrel in a jumper. There was tartan in the park, as well as wool and fleece. I haven't yet seen a pug in a hoodie, but it's only a matter of time. 

tiny tweedy toff

This evening, though, as Greg got Aristotle ready to take him out on a man & dog date, out came the sheepskin-lined tweed - retail price £115 from Harrods (though he got his for £20 - still expensive per inch of dog, in my book). He looked like a proper little English toff, that dog and my day, in that instant, was made.

I draw the line at shoes - there's no need for them and most photos of dogs in shoes leave no doubt as to how at ease the creature feels. Rollerskates too, but they've also almost gone so far down the Wrong road that they're funny again. 

fuck this shit

My first frost of the year, swim-wise. I hate to be cold, but when, in Wales last week, I saw frost on the grass in the morning, I ached in my belly to be swimming in the cold water and daring my dive. I didn't dare my dive this morning. The water has dropped to five degrees and my head-under plunges resulted in the harshest of sinus screams and proper frozen brains, so I need to source a hat or two - two swimming caps does the trick, apparently, though I'll have to put them on after the dip and before the dive. 

There's something exhilarating about stepping in when the grass is white in the field. This morning, after a week away and a drop of three degrees, ice on the neighbouring ponds and a last-minute borrowed pair of gloves, I made many sounds on the way round and as I moved from steps to free float, the word 'sensation' came out of my mouth repeatedly. When my beautiful friend Lilley had a baby, she banned the use of the word 'pain' and used 'intense sensation' all the way through. It helped. She was there for four days, so thank goodness it did!

I'd smile at anything, though

My body hurt and rejoiced simultaneously. It stung and prickled and I felt the blood shrink back into my core, abandoning anything at a tip and starving the skin. Once out, the collected ladies commented on the vibrancy of the shades of red and purple each other's legs had gone on getting out. Some were kaleidoscopic in their colours. Others slightly scary. Mine were vivid pink, with blue lines, haloed white, where the slow veins are. I wonder if my diet change will affect them.