Mr Scruff

Since The Boy has left the building and switched off all of the internet at home, and The Blonde won’t let me go to the internet café, I haven’t blogged for gawd knows how long.
So The Blonde goes off to a yoga retreat for a week muttering something about the joy of designer yoga gear, she’s borrowed some gear from a bird called Stella, and how happy she was to be detoxing for a week. Anyway, I was not prepared for happened when she got back. Thought it was meant to be a nice healthy break. She looked like she had been dug up, something to do with some club called Space, wonder if it’s like the Kennel club? I like Crufts, wonder if she did any of that dancing with dogs. That always makes me howl.

After spending three days in a darkened room, Blonde decides that it’s a life change she needs and so has started running at 7 am. How very nice for her but I didn’t go to some Space club and I didn’t ask to be dragged along at high speed at the end of a bit of leather whilst she curses her head off. Honestly, it’s hard work being me. I always get dragged into her madness, she’s absolutely barking.