6th September 2022

With August rapidly drawing to a close (it was the 28th), Sue and I decided to make a rare visit to Jamie in Waltham on the Wolds. Unfortunately, we happened to pick a day when he was attending a supercar rally in Derbyshire. Undeterred, we made alternative plans and arranged to take Ruth and Joey out for Sunday lunch.

We arrived a little early and, knowing Ruth had taken Joey to get his hair cut in preparation for the new school term, we waited in the garden with the two dogs, Rocky and Nala, until they returned. After catching up over coffee, we drove into Melton Mowbray to dine at the Anne of Cleves, the oldest pub in the town.

The building, originally constructed in 1384 as a residence for Melton’s parsons, takes its name from the fourth wife of Henry VIII. At the time, it was known as the Manor of Lewes and remained linked to the Church as a Chantry Priest’s house until the mid-1500s. During Henry’s Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1539, the property passed to the Crown. It was subsequently granted to Thomas Cromwell in recognition of his role in reclaiming church lands. He briefly took up residence here in the spring of 1540, shortly before his dramatic fall from favour and execution on Tower Hill. The house was later included in Anne of Cleves’ divorce settlement following a brief visit from the King.

Being a sunny Bank Holiday Sunday, the pub was understandably busy, but Ruth had thoughtfully reserved a table. We enjoyed an excellent lunch in charming and historic surroundings before returning to Waltham for more conversation and a relaxing drink.

On the final day of the month, Sue drove down to Devon to spend a few days with her sister Philippa in Buckfastleigh. With Paul away at a music festival, it gave the two sisters a perfect opportunity to enjoy some quality time together.

That same day marked the death of Mikhail Gorbachev. Upon becoming leader of the Soviet Union in 1985, he sought to reform and modernise the ailing Soviet system, ultimately overseeing its dissolution in 1991. Through his policies of perestroika (restructuring) and glasnost (openness), he aimed to revitalise the economy and liberalise society. He also played a key role in improving relations with the West, signing significant arms control agreements with the United States, efforts that earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1990. Although widely unpopular in Russia, Gorbachev was arguably the most humane, least self-serving, and most clear-headed of the country’s past and present leaders. Unsurprisingly, Russia’s current and widely reviled leader chose not to attend his funeral.

On the morning of the first day of the month, I found myself in charge of an injured Harry the greyhound. The poor dog had somehow managed to rip off his dew claw and had also sustained a gash beneath his eye. Charlotte left me with swabs, bandages, antiseptics, and strict instructions before heading home to finish her packing.

Earlier that day, Jamie had dropped off presents for Charlotte and Suraj on his way to work, as they would be away for their birthdays. They had flown out to Tenerife to celebrate two milestone occasions, Charlotte’s 40th and Suraj’s 50th, taking Lucas and Ellis along with them. Somewhere en route to the Canary Islands, Ellis, the budding pilot in the family, managed to secure an invitation into the cockpit.

They are staying at an all-inclusive hotel, ideal for giving Charlotte and Suraj the chance to properly unwind after what has been a hectic year.

The following day, while the Rothwells were relaxing by the pool and sipping their refreshments, I drove to Manton near Rutland Water with Harry and my friend Sean. We met John and his daughter’s little fluffy dog, Barney, in the car park of the dog-friendly Horse and Jockey for a five-mile walk through the pleasant Rutland countryside.

It was raining as we set off on our two-hour ramble, but thankfully the weather soon relented and our raincoats were returned to the insides of our rucksacks. The walking was easy, though in places the grass was tall and soaked through, resulting in soggy shoes and bedraggled dogs. The halfway point was the very pretty hamlet of Brooke, once the location of a small priory established by Austin Canons in the 12th century, but now just visible as earth mounds next to the church. The return leg was memorable for the apples and blackberries we picked from the hedgerows, and an agreement that blackberry and apple pie is THE most delicious fruit pie ever. As usual, we had lunch in the pub, all of us opting for beef and gravy pie, before returning home.

During the evening, Harry managed to knock off the scab covering the wound below his eye; it bled quite profusely. After swabbing and cleaning the cut, then after wiping away the blood, he allowed me to dress the wound and place a patch over his eye. Expecting him to pull it off, I wagged my finger and warned him to leave it on, and bless him, he did! That evening, I had a one-eyed hound following me around the house until I took it off just before bedtime. Satisfyingly, I discovered the wound was clean and had scabbed over again. Who’s a clever dog?

Meanwhile, Sue and Philippa were keeping themselves busy in Devon, where the forecast torrential rain thankfully failed to materialise. As well as enjoying each other’s company, they visited stately homes, a food market, and a summer fayre in the nearby village of Ashburton,  even managing a picnic up on Dartmoor.

Sadly, the day took a sombre turn. After a lengthy morning walk with Harry, and just as I was finishing lunch, I received a phone call from Jim asking for help. His car was in the garage, and one of his dogs was desperately ill and needed to get to the vet. I picked up poor Shoby and, with Bridget, drove to the animal clinic in town.

It was immediately obvious the dog was gravely unwell; she couldn’t stand and looked in a pitiable state. The vet diagnosed severe internal bleeding and advised that an operation was unlikely to achieve a satisfactory outcome. The kindest option was to let her go peacefully.

Shoby was my favourite of their two dogs, always eager for cuddles and a game of fetch whenever I visited. Saying goodbye to a friend is never easy. Along with Bridget, we stayed with Shoby to the end, gently stroking her and telling her what a ‘good girl’ she was. It was desperately sad, but also a privilege to be there with my dear doggy pal in her final moments.

Leaving Shoby at the vets, I took Bridget home to be consoled by Jim, before taking Harry for a very long and very sombre afternoon walk.

On Sunday afternoon, Sue returned home after a long and torturous drive through heavy holiday traffic. Harry and I had been out on a four-hour ramble, returning just in time for lunch. I had made myself something to eat, but underestimated how many chips three large potatoes would produce. After scoffing the lot, I was feeling decidedly full. Harry, meanwhile, had been served a generous portion of dog food, topped off with one of his chicken claw treats, and was similarly lethargic. Unsurprisingly, we were both fast asleep in the lounge when Sue made her appearance!

Over the past couple of weeks, I decided to revisit some of my earlier blogs and give them the editing they’ve long deserved. Until recently, wherever I’ve been in the world, the blogs have typically been written late at night, often after Sue has gone to bed, with words tumbling onto the page exactly as they pop into my mind. Out of tiredness, or perhaps laziness, I would hit ‘publish’ without so much as a second glance, just relieved to have it done with what sometimes felt like a chore.

A while ago, out of curiosity, I re-read an old post that had recently been viewed by someone overseas. While it did stir some cherished and long-forgotten memories, it didn’t read particularly well. It was littered with spelling and grammatical errors, and I realised then just how neglected some of these posts were. So, I’ve made the decision to begin correcting that negligence, reviewing and editing past blogs whenever I find a spare moment.