Dylan And Lots Of Wine

Poor show! I've been receiving a few complaints about the lack of blog entries lately. Excuses, excuses! I know, but I've been far too busy being out, socialising and drinking copious amounts of Sauvignon Blanc.

I shall fill you in on the days past...

Sunday was a delightful day. Jody and I went to the Hungry Man for breakfast, delicious! We sat on the rocks and watched boats come in and out, and spoke of possible ways in which we could hijack one, I believe the agreement was unspoken but we weren't to steal a vessel that day. I parted company with Jody at midday and I was joined by cousin Paul. We headed west to St. Ouens where we took to the shallow on our skimboards. I can't say I was really "feeling it" so I opted out for a burger and a gossip on the beach. An attempt to seek out some "hotties" or "hunnies" or indeed both was made whilst pointing in random directions, an act of cunning regularly used by "hottie spotters" to deceive innocent prey into believing they are simply lost. I need to get some dark sunglasses. As it happens we didn't have much luck that day, I've heard St. Brelades is better. In the evening I hopped on my two wheels and made my way down to The Drift to see Mud Morganfield (who?) son of Muddy Waters (who?) perform some blues, it was hard work, though he did have a spectacular gold suit. I've learnt something about blues that I don't believe anyone has noticed yet, it all sounds the same!

Yesterday I unearthed the hero from within! Through an act of selfless courage, strength and mental stamina I rescued an innocent dog. It was a hot afternoon, really very very hot, I was out striding down the road to plant some trees or something like that, I can't quite remember, when I spotted, on the distance, this small creature cowering by the side of the road as giant, metal, four wheeled monsters charged past. It was at that moment I knew I had to do something and fast lest that poor dog be crushed and killed under those manmade terror machines! I sprinted down the road at lightning speed, about a mile or two, sweat pouring off me under the unforgiving midday sun. I swept the dog up into my arms, just in time as the next car passed. Whilst nursing the dogs terror, uttering words of gentle reassurance, I spied a glimmer of something round his neck. "Lo, what is this I see before me, a clue?" I thought. On further inspection I found it was metal tag of sorts, with an inscription reading "DYLAN" in bold capital letters, I deduced that this must be the creature's name, and on the other side a strange number, perhaps a telephone number or a secret code? After reciting the secret code to the dog with little, or maybe no effect, my next action was to use my trusty mobile telephone and call that number! I dialled without a moments hesitation, or regard to the danger that might lurk on the other side of the phone. An elderly man answered, very old, probably ill with cancer or a stroke, he was delighted that his beloved Dylan had been rescued, and maybe he cried, so what? There is no shame in a grown man crying for sheer love of his pet! But then I couldn't tell as I couldn't see him, we were on the phone, but he probably cried. After some time of cradling the frail Dylan in my arms the man arrived in his vehicle, overjoyed to be reunited with his best friend, and from his pocket he produced a crisp £100 pound note and offered it to me with his up-most gratitude, I refused, Spiderman doesn't get paid so why should I? Maybe I took a fiver, but that's not important. Before striding off into the sunset, I turned to the old man and said, "Have a happy life and take of Dylan"and with that I was gone.

Other than that just been getting pissed mainly!