Incoherence dipped to a new low last night – actually, that’s not right, is it – I mean, coherence dipped or incoherence soared. I was sober but tired, a poor combination.
We received our census form yesterday. I have no objection to filling it in, it’s rather less intrusive than many of the questions that many businesses ask. For the first time in our marriage, we will just fill it in for the two of us. I remember the last time, taking some time to work out how many rooms there are in the house and I’ll have to do it again – it’s a bit odd because a bathroom isn’t counted but a utility room is. Our bathroom is fairly large, having been converted from a bedroom (in 1960, when the Sage’s sister got married), but we’ve a very small utility room that I wouldn’t really have counted at all, which is smaller and less of a room-like space than the hall, the cloakroom or the landing, none of which is counted and all of which are converted from rooms. Still. Maybe this is an unusual house.
On Dave’s blog, he was talking about his ideal house and its location and, in the comments, daydreaming as a comfort or therapy was mentioned. That would be the opposite of therapy for me – a ‘safe place’ in my mind would not feel safe or comforting if it were unattainable. For that reason, I can think more easily about what I wouldn’t like in a house rather than what I would – which is rather the same attitude, now I think about it, that I took when talking about an ideal holiday and an ideal dog. I started with what I don’t want.
Friends of ours look after dogs for their owners when they are on holiday – in their home, it’s a fairly informal arrangement, not a boarding kennel. They have two dogs themselves, one a charming little spaniel, very small, that I love, and the other a black, setter-shaped one, which is a delightful dog but which is untrainable, especially around chickens which it kills, and I wouldn’t have at any price. Our friends have run into a problem. This week’s dog, which is a small terrier of the Jack Russell type, managed to get out of their back yard by squeezing through a space they didn’t think any dog could get through. They can’t now find it, and the owner is due back tomorrow. Apparently, she never lets it off the lead when it’s out, as it can’t be trusted not to run off. I’d see no point in having a dog that I couldn’t take for a run off the lead. It would be no pleasure for me or the dog. Trust, and freedom within understood parameters, is fundamental.