its been 16 hour days all week, but I knew it would be, Range Rover repairs do not pay for themselves, I have worked out that, on the whole, we both work for our cars and our dogs and our house. We do not holiday, eat out, go and see films, we just work, sleep, and enjoy our animals and drive our cars. A competitor mentioned yesterday that I should get rid of the wife, sell the cars, dump the animals, and my outgoings would go down hugely, hmmm. I took the boys out for a walk yesterday afternoon, Bran can now walk and is out of his cage, his leg is nearly healed. A lot of the time I go to the field there are a couple of west indian lads playing with their remote control cars, I say lads, but these guys are probably 24/25, we always nod, and the dogs tend to keep themselves to themselves, but as they get older, they are getting more curious and inquisitive. I am also trying to get them used to people, so I asked them if they would say hello to the puppies. The three guys looked aprehensive, but they are only puppies, I said, no way, none of them liked dogs, and as Bran stuck his head out of the window, one actually locked himself in his car, desperately trying to hold on to some reason, I looked at the other two, but the taller one said he was scared of poodles, and also locked himself in the car, followed by the third. So there I am on the field, with three sports cars with a driver in each. I let the boys out, and we all ran on to the field. Rory, although he is no longer sick in the car, hates getting into it. Bran has no problem, but he will watch me carry Rory in, and then jump out and insist he is carried in too. Rory, on watching Bran jump out, and be carried in, then insists on jumping and being carried in again, so the whole process can take some time. Dan always snuggles up in the back, Rory and Bran fight for the front seat, and end up with both squashed up next to me. We are having to put new carpets down in the living room next week, as the puppies have chewed the existing one to the end of its life, so more expense, more 16 hour days, and Rory is booked into for castration. Virgil the cat keeps waking me up at 3am every morning demanding to be fed, which wakes everyone else up, and then everyone needs to be fed, although this is not quite how I imagined my middle age, it has a cosyness about it that I cannot deny. Watching the animals interact, grow up, is fascinating. They say it may snow next week, now that would be fantastic!