On we go.
We met up with the Slimms one sunny afternoon (and aren't they all sunny afternoons in England these days) along with their dog and went for a walk round one of our old haunts at Bucklesham Heath or Common or whatever it was it's called, probably something entirely different like Purdis Farm Hollow, who knows.
The dog apparently is named for some Italian astronomer, or perhaps for the spacecraft that is named after him. I'm still not sure that it's an acceptable name, even if it was put to some sort of vote from the Granddaughters, though our children weren't included in that process, so why should I respect it?
Anyway I don't know what standards of behaviour you would expect from a dog with a name like that but I hadn't set mine very high, even though the Slimms are apparently - or like to give the impression of being at least - Master Dog Masters of Dog Discipline whose every word is hung upon by the entire canine population owing to the undeniable fact that they have the Right Approach to dogs (unlike, for instance, us, who don't).
How we Laughed and Laughed when Beppi the Retriever jumped up on everybody in sight, ran away, failed to come back, lay down in muddy puddles, etc etc, while "Beppi! Beppi!" rang out sing-songily and completely ineffectually through the trees.
Eloise wanted to walk him on the lead, and in retrospect that might have been an idea, except he probably would have pulled her over completely as he went bonkers in the company of other dogs.
Still I suppose dogs take after the owners because it wasn't too long before we'd lost the Slimms as well.
They didn't answer either as we called to them through the forest. We thought they'd been a bit canny as we had the flaming dog with us - and when the dog ran off we thought we were scuppered. But fortunately he came back, then the Slimms turned up, and all was well.
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