A Good Breakfast

Whilst driving into Cully this morning I pondered on what Bert should wear to today's funeral. I also decided that he should buy a himself new suit for he's getting to an age now where he will be attending more funerals. Then I got to thinking that Bert will need a good suit for his own funeral and the thought of that made me feel very serious and sad. I determined that I was going to be much nicer to him from now on, and appreciate him while I still have him, for he is a very decent sort of man.

I resolved that when I got home I would make him a healthy cooked breakfast and that's what I did. I made him scrambled eggs on toasted wheaten bread. While he was eating it I told him that cooking for him made me feel like Carmela Soprano. And I said,

And with that good breakfast in you, you can go out and strangle somebody with your bare hands and then you can phone up The Bun to come and help you sterilise the crime scene and dispose of the corpse.

He laughed. That's another thing that's great about Bert. He enjoys my sense of humour.

The Moon, The Dogs, The Pixies and Me

Warning! This post contains Sopranos spoilers!

My plans for tonight included chores, wine-drinking, catching the sky at 9pm (when Mars would be closest to the moon) and watching The Sopranos.

The chores got done, the sky clouded over at 9pm exactly and we watched The Sopranos. That has been harrowing viewing these past two nights what with the pathetic deaths of Pie-O-My (a horse) and Cosette (a dog). Compared to those tragedies the demise of Ralph (a human, sort of) was much easier to bear despite the graphic depiction of his scalping, beheading and dismemberment.

Show over and with the full moon, it was nearly bright as day outside. There was a light skiff of snow on the ground. I decided to go for a walk up the back lane and maybe venture a way into the snowy wood. So on with two coats, thermal hat, leather gloves, the Hunters and the iPod. Bert says,

But you’re wearing your pyjamas!

I say,

It’s OK. I’m not going to Tescos.

We set off – the dogs and me. Bert wouldn’t come. Said it was too cold. The moon was high and bright, Mars beside it, Venus somewhere else. The air was crisp, the dogs were delighted, Cecilia Ann playing on the iPod. I couldn’t have been happier.