Day 87: I Am On A Train

Do NOT underestimate what I mean by this! I am actually and literally sitting on a train (coach L, seat 15A), on a GNER train to Edinburgh Waverley, calling at Retford (where is this place? I have never heard of it), Doncaster, York, Newcastle, somewhere else and somewhere else. When the man comes on the speakers and talks about bacon sandwiches, you can hear dogs barking in the background.

I used to take this train a lot. It used to take four hours to get to York from London. Mobile phones didn't exist then (1988), and you could only travel in First Class if you were a member of the Royal Family or the Prime Minister. Now I am getting the interweb out of the air, York is a mere fifteen minutes from London King's Cross and First Class is not full of Prime Ministers and Princess Anne, but middle aged ladies reading Woman's Own, a very pretty smiley girl to my right doing something very complicated with a spreadsheet, and a junior salesman puffing self-importantly over emails from his print suppliers. Still, it is our democratic right to buy cheap First Class tickets off the GNER website and have tea sloshed into our cups by perky Glaswegians with golden teeth, and long may it continue.

Not much else to report, apart from the strange hair dye used by the two Scottish ladies with smokers' coughs sitting opposite me - and anyway, have you ever tried typing quietly? Exactly.

Coming soon: I pray for cold toast in triangles in a toast rack tomorrow morning, accompanied by strangely cold squares of butter and jam in tiny, tiny pots the size of my thumbnail.

Day 86: I Think Like A Dog

Today, I want to give you the greatest gift of them all: Dog Logic. I have written about it before as a handy tool for those doing internet dating, but it applies to everything, almost all the time and permanently, and may well change your life.

"But what is Dog Logic?", I hear you cry. Easy. When in doubt, think like a dog.

Dogs 'think' something, then act upon it. If they are thirsty, they do not sit around all night over three bottles of cheap Pinot Grigio, eating giant Toblerone and discussing what water they should drink (and when), with their canine chums. They don't care if the water wants to be drunk or not, or whether it might have 'issues'. They don't care what the water thinks of them, or let the water make them feel insecure. The water doesn't keep them awake at night, or make them miss buses and drop things. If a dog wants water, he sticks his nose in a puddle and laps it up.

Here's how it works.

I am hungry

Fair cop, some dogs are porkers what love a bit of sausage nicked off the table, but on the whole, they are hungry at the same times of day, and loiter around their dog bowl until someone falls over them and remembers to feed them. They eat, and then they go and have a rest. They don't usually get fat unless some butter is left on the table, in which case they will scoff a whole packet and lick their chops.

In conclusion: eat when you are hungry, and if you are a greedy pig, don't have food around that you will eat and that will make you fat.

There is a fire in a hearth

I will lie down in front of it, preferably with my head in someone's lap.

It is the afternoon. I am tired.

I will go and have a little sleep.

The man is being horrible to me.

I will therefore run away from the man, but not before whimpering slightly. If he is really horrible to me, I will cower in the corner and think I have done something wrong. Afterwards, I will not trust anyone unless they are very patient and look after me well.

The man is nice to me, looks after me, and strokes me.

I will therefore be loyal to the man, and rest my paw on his knee when he is watching television. I will also sigh when put my head on his shoulder, and be happy when he comes home.

There is a cat.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

There is a squirrel.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

There is a bed.

I will wee on it if I am anxious. If I am not, I will climb under the covers and snooze, preferably on someone's feet.

I am bored.

I will run round the garden many times chasing flies, whilst at the same time getting some exercise.

There is a stick.

I will be nice and you will throw it for me. If I am not nice, you will not throw it for me.

I am ill.

I will lie down and whimper.

I am old.

I will sleep a lot, and watch Countdown through one eye.

The person is ignoring me.

They don't want to play with me.

There is a Hot Dog.

I will attempt to make sweet love to it.

I am being shouted at.

I will hide under the table out of harm's way.

I see an IKEA bag full of clean washing that has just come out of the tumble drier and is warm.

I will live there forever.






In conclusion, if you are in a quandary, think like a dog. It will give you a rapid answer to those everyday questions that can be subject to far too much over-analysis. Everyday examples might include:

1. If someone makes you feel bad, avoid them.
2. If someone makes you feel happy, spend lots of time with them and make them happy too.
3. If you are bored doing your job and dread it in the morning, do something else instead.
4. If you are fat and miserable, eat less and move around more.
5. If something you do makes you unhappy, stop doing it.
6. If you see a cat, kill it.

Good luck, my friends. I hope you find it useful. I know I do.


Coming Soon: Why Thinking Like A Cat Is Bad For You.

Non-workingmonkey's Handy Hints, No. 2

Do not stuff a packet of oatcakes in an already-crowded cupboard whilst not looking, otherwise twelve bottles of herbs and spices in glass jars, a tin of tomatoes and a jar of out-of-date Harvey Nichols blackcurrant jam (that you got in a 'gift hamper' in 2003), will fall on your head.

Non-workingmonkey's Handy Hints, No. 1

Do not skip (using a skipping rope) for the first time in 26 years if you have a full bladder.

Day 86: I Listen To The Archers*

Sophie! Get off David Archer right now, you dirty husband-stealing trollop. And how DARE you "forget" to tell Ruth that the party was black tie, and then compliment her on her "little outfit"? And as for offloading Ruth on your mother all night so you could persuade David to do some heavy work on the Sensory Garden - you're a disgrace.

Any more of this nonsense and I'm coming down to Ambridge to give you what for.



* For Foreign Readers

The Archers = Extremely Important. No, I can't explain. You'll just have to listen to it.