I am in the proverbial again. Tuesday she was informed that I am not allowed in Lloyds TSB anymore ‘health and safety rules.’ The kind customer service person told her three times while we were waiting in the queue and again when we got to the cashier and was even thoughtful enough to inform him too. Was this not a bit over the top? What was she to do, take me home then come back, it’s a good way and the petrol involved. Was she to chain up this very expensive pedigree to the railings outside the bank and hope for me to be (gone?) still be there when she got back, or stand her ground? She stood her ground; she was seething but stood her ground. Then yesterday I went to the beauty parlour (I told you I was expensive). She was told in no uncertain terms that the level of my personal hygiene was not up to standard. There was matting close to the skin on my feathering. She was told, my feathering must be brushed daily and well, she must be firm with me…! She was charged £4 extra for my being ‘knotty’ This morning we met Juicy Lucy coming up the road, (she is a Westie very chatty) I did not want her to have my ball so moved sideways into the road. Apparently if a car had been coming I would have been a goner. She says she is entirely fed up to the back teeth with me, my antics and associates. I am nothing but a pain in the neck. He says she needs a holiday. She says she does – from me…!

We are in fact off on holiday tomorrow, (Saturday) for two weeks. I have been promised the beach and golden sands. The Grockle has arrived and I am looking forward to a lovely time, but I wish she was not coming. If I could figure out a way of ‘making this so’ believe me I would. We would have a far better time without her. By the way we still have a coalition government, and Robbie Williams is returning to Take That, and Madrid Zoo have reputedly made an unlimited offer for Psychic Paul.

Have a lovely weekend we will regroup in two weeks.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie.

That flaming octopus is still making the headlines, I really cannot abide show offs. It really is so vulgar to make a display of oneself in this way, much undignified. What was also undignified was the trip I made to the vets. As you know a trip in the kennel on wheels is my favourite occupation, however, there are certain rhythms and bumps in the road that correspond with a trip down Bourne way to the vets. Nothing ever good happens on these trips, it usual ends up like this one. Why do I need worming, it is not as if I dine at restaurants with worms on the menu, and why do they make said wormers so large? The nurse was rather condescending when asked if she would give me the tablet as it was very difficult, ‘you just drop it down the back of the throat’ she said. I managed, creditably, to defy all attempts to get these wormers down my throat. She even tried with my favourite rice dish. I licked it off and spat it out. The rice dish was excellent. By the fourth attempt I was getting bored with the whole performance (it was of the Oscar variety) and no more titbits were on offer so I decided the better part of valour was to swallow the …..thing. My scribe, to her credit, did not utter the over used phrase ‘I told you so’.

One should always know when to give in gracefully. Note to Psychic Paul give in gracefully and slope off back to your pond. I am bored with you and according to my scribe’s friend Wiki Octopi only live from three to five years. So take it easy mate and go back to your pond life. It is very stressful in the spot light, and only true stars survive…! We have heard from Cheapseats at last; he is on his way home tonight, from what has been an extremely arduous tour of duty at the World Cup, he says. We hope to see him soon with many lovely stories to tell, I am sure.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie

Well that flamingly octopus managed to correctly predict the outcome of the World cup and Spain eventually won the final. It was too hot for popcorn they agreed, (I was not asked, it is never to hot for popcorn). I, however, decided it was too hot to sit on the sofa, so I watched from my vantage point by the bookcase in the cool. She tries to stop me watching the oblong box she says it gives my nightmares. It does not! I believe this argument has been logically concluded on a number of occasions, but doubtless my necessary interloper will disagree anyway out of her compulsive desire to have the last word. So, contrary to her expectations; I slept well last night, even with that fan blowing at me. I really do not like the fan but it is necessary irritation in this hot weather. Where was I? Ah! Yes, Psycho Paul (or was it Psychic Paul I cannot remember?) who, I suppose deserves a mention for correctly predicting that Spain would win. My prediction of Holland winning was totally adrift. My only excuse can be is that Psychic Paul has eight legs and I have just four, and it was insufferably hot.

He, along with most of the media pundits, was disappointed with the Dutch resorting to some unfairly brutal tactics; it was surprising they were not reduced to 10 men (or less) in regular time. It was perhaps even more surprising that the Spanish were not reduced to only 7 or 8 player due to injury. Not since Karate Kid 1 has he seen such an impressive flying kick to the chest, perhaps De Jong should consider karate at the 2012 Olympics as an alternative option for a winners medal. Fortunately, the Spanish who continued to impress with their patient, skilful passing used to develop some excellent chances that the Dutch defence did well to last until extra time before conceding the winning goal. The Referee did his utmost not to send players off and relegate the final to a one sided walk over.

The oblong box says a BBC children’s puppet called Andy Pandy, who appeared on the Watch with Mother series is sixty today, apparently he sings ‘Andy Pandy’s coming to play tra la lah la la lah’ Not to my house he will not;I have had more than enough of a singing anything. He can go Looby Loo.

I am off to fetch my lead for a walk in the rain.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie

We are all awaiting the predictions for the world cup final between Holland and Spain. There is a very cocky octopus (Psychic Paul) that is now bidding for world fame that thinks he can predict which team can win. Apparently this resident of Germany has been right so far and even predicted the fall of its home country. He is brave I will say that for him. Threats have been made against this specimen’s life, dark threats of butter and a frying pan; hmm Calamari I love it. Will he survive to make the next prediction let alone be right?

Enjoy the footy and have a lovely weekend. By the way, we still have a coalition government, they are in trouble but they are still there. Education Secretary Michael Gove has not followed the example set by Gordon Brown et al in the last Government, he has used the sorry word repeatedly, admitted it was his fault and responsibility, and what did he do wrong; his department in an attempt to inform schools that Labour had promised large amounts of money they did not have to allow them to build and refurbish their schools and as a consequence almost all proposal would need to be reassessed to ensure what money is available is used properly. So there were a few errors in the facts, would they have rather waited another month while everything was checked, sent to a quango and rechecked, before they were advised?

I am of course

La Grande Sophie

My scribe says that she will return to not being interested in football after today. For this grain of sanity we must be grateful, as every time she decides to support a team, and actually watch with us on the sofa, they lose. So you can see by last night results, which team carried the dubious honour of carrying her favours in to battle. It is said that Spain had magnets on their boots and that the ball designed in Loughborough GB was an ingenious and deliberate attempt to subvert Germanys 4-2-3-1 system when used correctly. (Couldn’t someone have informed the England Team?)

We investigated the saga of the England team’s under 19s debacle mentioned in yesterday’s blog, and it appears, according to the Telegraph’s Henry Winter (who is still, we take it, Cape Town’s correspondent, though they don’t say so in print today), that Harry Redknapp does have the say as to whether the four youngsters could join the England Under-19 squad in France, mentioned yesterday. Redknapp is reported to have said ‘If they need the kids, we will get it sorted out.’ Is this the words of a man flexing his power muscles, or a man with an eye to his future, when the fabulous Capello makes the top job vacant? This is absolutely my last word on football, my scribe says.

My friends in the Lake District are very short on water, the news reports tell us. This is hard to believe having trawled through rain belts, carrying heavy downpours this time last year. I would not have believed the state of reservoirs if I had not seen them for myself two weeks ago. I hope both Rutland and the Lakes get some rain soon. As you know I don’t do the heat, and my river is turning into a stream very quickly.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie.

We very much enjoyed the weekend sport, however. Her favourite Spaniard, Rafael Nadal, won easily, it says in the press; but he did so with irresistible style, (according to her anyway). Also Serena Williams, critics like to mock her but she has now passed Billy Jean King and is catching Martina Navratilova and Chris Evert on the Grand slam all time lists, they tell me. It is interesting that both the players mentioned above who won the mens and womens final this weekend have strong family teams involved in their playing camps; as does Andy Murray who I mentioned on Friday, our big hope for the Championship. The Telegraph implies that all things are not well in that camp, but the rumour of sacking his coach is however pure speculation, it is said. His Mum really has to stop all this gyrating when she is viewing a match, from one pushy mother to another, this is not a good look, my scribe says. It is not all gloom and doom for team GB. We had successes and some hope for the future, Farquharson and Broady won the Boys Doubles. It was an all GB game so we had it in the bag from the start, this wonderful situation only happens once in a blue moon I am told. I do wish though that it could all be conducted in the evening, my tennis fanatics don’t tend to eat popcorn in the afternoon.

One last word on the England football camp, (or maybe not if we can find something of interest) players are now saying that it was not the coach’s fault (funny old thing that) as they wing their way off on their hols. Germany’s captain Philipp Lahn was asked if England could now say they were better than Argentina because they had managed to score a goal against England. ‘England was a good team with big players. In both games we were ready and you saw again here that the better team wins against the better players.’ There is that word again, Team. Also according to Henry Winter the Telegraph’s correspondent in Cape Town in the same piece says that England’s problems are rooted in the club versus country tension, and are highlighted by Tottenham Hotspur’s refusal to allow four of their prospects to join England’s Under-19’s at an important tournament in France next week. It is hard to believe this when Harry Rednapp’s tearful face comes to mind being interviewed when England were knocked out of the world cup, but perhaps he has no influence with whoever deals with his developing players. I will send my scribe to investigate. Also worth considering is that one of England’s problems is too many players who are right footed, especially on the left side of the field. Now, I (a talented footballer myself) am four footed how useful could I be, and very proud to boot.

John McEnroe talking to John Lloyd on a Wimbledon commentary this week said, ‘there is nothing more honourable than to play for your country. You should do it every time you are able. It is an honour to be asked.’

I am of course

La Grande Sophie.

Have a lovely weekend.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie

Team is a fantastic word, with many connotations it basically means, (note to scribe basically is an overused word); a group of people organized to function cooperatively, who combine and match. Bearing in mind the press reports of the last year, (and there have been many) about the play on and off field; it could be said that what the FA sent to South Africa was not a team, or persons who reasonably could achieve this status, she says they neither, complemented, matched or combined with one another. There was arguably too much dirty laundry and Football League rivalry involved for this lot to have ever gelled if reports are to be believed. It is a great shame, especially for all the troops in hot sandy places that would have taken a great delight in watching if an England team of true professionals without emotional baggage and inflated egos had turned up to play in the tournament in South Africa. That would have been a tournament she would love to have seen, my closet Sun reader says, and she is a cricket supporter.

We live in hopes for Andy Murry in the tennis at Wimbledon now and hope he does not have a penchant for a cigar on the side, Havana or otherwise, it’s very bad for the lungs don’t you know. His team seems to be working hard and functioning at the moment.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie

Yesterday’s banner headline, for those of you who were not fortunate enough to read it on the news stand at Morrison’s, stated; ‘Sunny outlook in many areas but depression over Heathrow as shower drifts in from South Africa.’ Today we notice, (they have her interest for sure, because she is Googling them now and has added them to her favourites bar), the Sun is aiming their penalty kicks in much the same area; today’s headline states ‘Are you Havana Laugh,’ and shows interesting pictures of the England team enjoying a post drubbing, ‘boozy party’ (the Sun’s words of course, not mine) they all look to be having a very good time, a cigar is featured. We are not sure how it can be ascertained from the photo if this is infact a world famous Havana. We must however bow to superior knowledge. Check it out don’t take my word for it, it looked to be some party from the empty glasses on the table.

All this is very interesting, it masks the fact that life is slipping back to normal after our journeys, in the ‘Grock,’ (the new caravan) which I have to say is a vast improvement on the nylon house, I loved it. For once it did not ‘rain on our Parade’ and we all enjoyed the Lake District in back to back sunshine. This has to be a first. Has anyone else ever been to the Lakes when it has not rained? The sun shines on the righteous it is said, they must be good persons this year.

We await with interest the Sun newspaper headlines tomorrow, I know you will think this is treachery from our point of view, but for now we are content in admitting that we are, newspaper wise, ‘running with the fox and hunting with the hounds,’ for the persons at the Sun truly make us laugh and laughter is the best remedy for just about everything and everybody; even disappointed footy fans.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie.

What else is perhaps an impossible science are the assortments of players that can arguably score goals, defend and generally play football she says, for our country. The latest excuse for the pathetic performance on Sunday from the England camp is apparently they are all tired, from a long hard season in the football league. Let me tell you a story, you want to hear, you know you do! She tells this story often, it is a favourite and I know it off by heart.

‘On the morning of April 19th 1949, H.M.S. Amethyst a small Royal Naval frigate left Shanghai to go up the Yangtze River to Nanking, the then capital of China. She was replacing H.M.S Consort a destroyer who was on station, as naval protection for the Embassy and British residents in the capital. It was the time of the Chinese civil war. Although she was draped in the Union Jack the communists fired on Amethyst from the banks of the Yangtze. She was lucky to start with; she was well out of range of the communists shells. Then, passing Rose Island, the ship was hit many times. Twenty two members of her crew died as a result of this attack: twenty eight others were seriously wounded. Amethyst had also lost her Captain and her doctor, ran aground in the mud with no wireless or any other viable instruments intact, except her echo-sounder. At 2.30 Consort arrived, guns blazing, and twice tried to tow Amethyst off the mud bank, but she was too badly aground. Consort went on alone to Shanghai. Lt G L Weston took command, they mended the radio and refloated; he took her a little up river to a slightly safer area. An R.A.F flying boat brought a doctor the next day. Weston moved Amethyst again; watched from the shore by Commander John Kerans, assistant naval attaché at Nanking; his orders where to take command, which he did the next day. It would be a hundred and one days before Amethyst would leave this spot. Food ran short, fuel was rationed. Talks with the Communists for a safe conduct for the ship went on week after week. Kearns kept returning ashore to argue with them. It was decided there was nothing for it they would have to make a run for it.’

It is a wonderful story of courage and well worth a read she says, they patched, pasted and connived their way back to sea. Every day brought renewed worries of internment and death from shelling. On the 30th of July Kerans took his chance, under cover of darkness using a merchant ship as a guide the ship’s crew made their bid for escape; blacking the white paint work and brass with grease, and using sacking and canvass to change their outline to look more like a Chinese frigate. Against the odds, despite being holed on the waterline, the damaged frigate was able to send Kerans last signal “Have rejoined the Fleet south of Woo Sung. No damage or casualties. God save the King.” Now I reckon that lot could carry the label of being tired deservedly. It is obvious that being tired is a state of mind and entirely relative for persons. I am sure the crew of H.M.S Amethyst would have enjoyed the opportunity to tire themselves in a plush hotel in Austria for a couple of weeks and then another all expenses paid (plus enormous wages) opportunity to tire themselves on safari and playing golf before a relatively few minutes of competitive football over four weeks in South Africa. They would of course been far too tired to escape after all that effort, and would of followed the English Football Team’s example and just given in.

I am of course

La Grande Sophie