If yesterday was quiet once we got away from the telly catastrophe at the Fairy Doll, today was a ruddy nightmare.
At what seemed like dawn, E and L (the ski instructor ones, not the junior codgers) turned up and took me for what I thought would be a nice walk in the morning sun. No such luck. We burned round to the other side of Mont Chery whereupon they put skis on and marched uphill to the Col de Ratty. Two things wrong with that. One is that it is a ruddy steep walk on paws in the soft, melting snow, and second, when you finally arrive, there are no frigging rats to chase. In fact, not even a mole or field mouse was available for a bit of gratuitous slaughter. Col de Ratless if you ask me.
After a brief look around for the non-existent rats and mice, I had to follow the humans down the hill at breakneck speed. Not for them the gentle pace of snow shoes favoured by the codgers. Oh no! The ski instructors used special dog destroying skis and hardly stopped all the way down. How a dog is supposed to pee in these circumstances, I do not know. Thankfully, that was it and they dropped me back with the codgers around lunchtime, theirs not mine worse luck.
After that, the afternoon was relatively sedate. Blue rinse was playing with her computer while old Grey watched football and rugby. His telly seemed to work OK, so I imagine his box was not a problem. The rest of the day was only disturbed when Grey starts swearing because AFC Wimbledon made the mistake of losing 1-0 to Northampton, but later he cheered up because England won the rugby.
And so to bed.