dogs and dahl

sitting with the girls trying to watch 'Danny champion of the world' and this frigging puppy barks and growls every time I move - every time. I'm beginning to dislike this dog.

Kinda wish i could smack it one - belt it round the head and yell 'shuuuut uuup!!' but I won't.
Vicious cycles at work here - I'm now convinced the dog knows I want to belt it one, which makes him bark, which makes me want to belt it etc etc.

Take a deep breath, and wait for 5 O'clock - the beginning of the end of the day - bottle of wine and a sunset.

Things, I notice, are beginning to go my way. The house quietens, and I manage to change the channel over to the cricket without anyone noticing (or complaining). My mood lifts as the quiet routines of bowler and batsman unroll before me. My breathing slows and evens, and I feel the aggression I was feeling towards the dog melting through my shoulders; the muscles there softening. England might actually save themselves from embarrassment here. Extraordinary really, I can't remember the last time England had a cricket team that wasn't crap.