The water has finally gone and it's left some folk in a godawful mess. We were dogsitting at the weekend, a big soppy chocco lab which number two boy adores. Both he and A constantly go on about getting a pooch. I like dogs, but I prefer them to belong to other people. The one we sit for is a lovely chap, but he stinks and he shits great big turds, which have to be picked up. There's few things as vile as scooping up a freshly steaming lab log, especially when the last bit is a bit dribbly. Still I've held out so far with a few unanswerable arguments, the main one being that I am the fucker who will be doing the morning walk despite what the rest of the mob promise. Fine in July, not quite as peachy come January. Plus, we've got three cats, and none of them are particular fans of the canine breed. J's four year old logic has decided that when the cats are all dead he can get a dog. Hmmm.
Anyway, number two and I got up at 7 on saturday and took the mutt down to the riverbank. What a fucking mess. What had been summer meadows full of colour were now dull brown fields of flattened grass. Each hedgerow was full of all sorts of rubbish. Caravans, yep caravans were hanging out of the lock, and boats were randomly scattered or half submerged. And the whole lot stank, really quite unpleasantly. I found it fairly depressing.