A brief canter through today

• Copious amounts of baking hot sun. I am seriously considering marrying the air conditioner.

• An early morning run in the Town Belt to avoid said heat. 

• Pitching story ideas to editors; some successful, some not so much. These women need to be introduced to the concept of karma - that if they treat freelancers as though they're something stuck to the bottom of their vertiginous  Louboutins, one day it will come back to bite them on their skinny arses (hopefully).

• Avoiding the Rugby Sevens with every fibre of my being (and the ridiculously costumed folk wandering past my house). 

• Finishing a story whose deadline has been nipping at my heels for the past few days.

• Spending the afternoon with my lovely friend Lorna, her woofer Dobbie and another friend Miriam, walking the dogs and then sitting in my back garden, eating cake, playing with the dogs and laughing loudly. A lot.

• Drinking bubbly because it's February and I managed a whole month of no alcohol. Yay for me.

• Indian takeout with the Animator and, later, the movie Argo which I am very much looking forward to.    

Today's visuals are of this wee guy, because I forgot to take any of the doggie/girly afternoon...

Going Underground

It feels like several lifetimes ago, but I once spent four and a bit years living in London.

And almost every day of those four and a bit years, I descended into the bowels of the earth, swiped my travel card and journeyed along the tentacles of this city's metro system, one of the oldest in the world. Like everyone, I dealt with my share of nutters and gropers, of rude people and the patently insane. But I was never one of those who 'suffered' the Tube; I loved its frenetic energy and the challenge of trying to negotiate my way around it, even on days when it was so unreliable, overcrowded and frustrating I was surprised they hadn't slapped a misery warning on it.

Since then, I've been lucky enough to ride subway cars in New York, Moscow, Prague, Hong Kong, Amsterdam, San Francisco, Shanghai, Paris, Tokyo, Washington DC, Munich, Berlin, Athens, Bangkok, Madrid, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Budapest, Cairo, Seville, Rome, Osaka, Kuala Lumpur, St Petersburg, Vienna, Singapore, Milan, Lisbon, Oslo, Warsaw, Barcelona, Istanbul, Helsinki and Glasgow (apologies if this comes across as hubris; it isn't meant to. I hadn't realised until now how many I've actually been on. It makes me sound like some kind of rapid transport geek).

Anyway, this is a stupidly long way of saying that today the London Underground celebrated its 150th birthday by hosting Chuck and Camilla (obvs everyone more interesting was busy). The glorious Guardian ran a caption contest, asking readers what they thought was going through the Cornwalls' minds as they got a taste of how the little people live (but without the vomit, pick-pockets and homeless folk, of course). I have just spent the last hour almost peeing my pants reading the comments; they are beyond priceless (click here for story).

          

You're going to put that finger where?

This morning I took His Highness to the vet for his slightly overdue health WOF and innoculations.

And although he wasn't particularly kindly inclined towards the whole exercise, he allowed himself to be subjected to the pokes and prods of his new vet Natalie and her assistant who was helping out before starting a five-year vet science degree.    

Thankfully, everything was where it should have been and performing as it's supposed to. Natalie declared Bristol to be in rude good health and one of the best-behaved dogs she's ever seen.

But oh the indignity: she weighed him on the cat scale! He was NOT impressed.

This photo was taken just before Natalie did the finger-in-bum thing to check his anal glands. Note the crazed look in his eye.

Not a good day

Today all was not well behind the velvet rope of sunshine.

There was major fuckupedness on the corporate front, website links that didn't work when they were supposed to, media releases that didn't contain the information they should have, more tension than an average week in the Middle East.

Perhaps the heat is getting to everyone.

I'm afraid all I can offer today are more images of ridiculously cute four-legged creatures. But when you're knackered and over it, Tumblr is a glorious, mind-numbing, time-wasting hole.

 (Pic Credit: Tumblr)    

Whatever blows your skirt up

This evening, on my walk home from work, I saw three women of a certain age - and wardrobe, and affection for blue eye shadow - excitedly heading to the Cliff Richard gig.

"I hope he sings Miss You Nights," said one, as I walked past.

"Ohh, and Summer Holiday. That's my favourite," added another.

"If I was 30 years younger, and he wasn't so funny looking, I would definitely be interested," said the last of the eye-shadowed troika.

I'm not sure how you follow a conversation like that.

So instead you shall have this photo of a baby sloth clutching a stuffed giraffe. Cute doesn't even come close...

     

My big fat Wellington summer

Hey Summer, thank you so much for coming. And for being kind to us.

According to this piece, you have kicked off your shoes and settled in for the next wee while. We truly heart you.

It's just a shame that I have taken on an urgent copywriting gig this weekend (it's not that I'm not grateful for the work, or the fabulous hourly rate) but it does mean the only Vitamin D I'm going to get in the next few days is through the window.

    

An intervention may need to be staged

Continuing the obsession with all things vintage, we found this old cash register that I am currently crushing out on.

Our house has now imposed a fatwa on the acquisition of any more stuff. Especially stuff that's older than the Animator.