Church life

One of the strangest things about living in an old church is that people don't always seem to realise it's not a church any more.

Yesterday afternoon Susan brought the lovely 5 month old labradoodle, Amber, for a run around in the woods with Vespa. They had a wonderful time, though Susan and I couldn't relax at all as the dogs went ape shit rushing around and we were both exhausted by the end of it. The consequences of this were that Vespa (and Amber too I gathered later in the evening) was flat out for the rest of the day.

However, last night as Mountain Man, Vespa and I were settling down for an evening of crap telly, Vespa, who was sparkers one minute suddenly went from sleep to full blown guard dog in approximately 1 second flat as our front door opened (yes, ok, we occasionally forget to lock it, but we do live in the country) and there, encased in what can only be described as an electric green bodysuit with shoes to match, was a rather attractive young woman.

I held on to Vespa's collar while MM checked what she wanted. Apparently, according to her, we were due an hour's worth of aerobics starting in five minutes. MM very politely directed her to the other end of the village where the village hall resides.

If only I'd have felt more lively I might have joined her, but instead I went back to lazy mode cuddling Vespa, who promptly fell asleep.