Talk about soul-enhancing fun.
Remember mum, you know the lady from chapter two in this by any other name, diary? Country Kitchen Living mum. Well, crumbs . . . what a stunning new-look kitchen, come dining room, come space and place conducive to clean countryside living it has become. One may be forgiven for hearing the theme tune to the The Archers skipping along past one's ears. For those of you who are now scratching your heads, The Archers was originally described as 'an everyday story of country-folk' although more recently described as ' contemporary drama in a rural setting' here in blighty. Sorry, Merry England. As of May 29th 2013 it celebrated sixty three years on our and indeed the globes airwaves, making it the globes longest running radio soap opera, bringing a moments retreat from our otherwise busy city lives. (For those that are now saying: "Well we don't live in the city", I offer a passionate nod of respect). Mind you, know I have written this I also offer an equally passionate nod of respect to those that live shall we say, elsewhere.
You know, am minded to state, in my humble yet passionate view, someone-somewhere, probably tucked underneath a pile of research papers, is purposefully constructing a heart-felt opportunity for transportation away from 'the hum' of city life so as to bring if only for fifteen minutes five times each week, every week,dreams of countryside living. In amongst the rolling hills, babbling brooks and bails of hay, at the corner of a glen there is a little village, filled with people very much like those depicted in this radio soap opera, all just waiting, patiently, to welcome with warm hearts those city folk who seek to recline into a more peaceful place. Good old blighties countryside.
Well, back to mum, from chapter two.
Having embraced her new-look kitchen in all its deliciousness, my peaceful countryside dwelling parents were greeted Monday last, by the adorable, cuddly, playful and head-strong little lady, Thea. It may well be an appropriate moment to divulge Thea is a puppy, as in a dog that is a baby. To those reading this that are now saying; "well it's obvious what a puppy is", I offer an equally passionate nod of respect as I have already offered to those I said lived in city's, that don't. And to those I said lived elsewhere, that don't.
Welcome to your new home Thea. Beautiful, loving and did I say head-strong? Little lady that you are, at least for now. Rumour has it the Thea's of this world do grow to be a somewhat noticeable size and stature.
"A proper dog" chirped-up my dad as he stood sawing wood for their open fire Saturday morning last.
I'll leave that comment where it is. Floating along the slip-stream of time, out in the wilderness of the rolling hills.
As she skips through her new home, her ears are merrily flopping about in a jovial sort-of fashion as her little legs pat softly along the new-look kitchen flooring. Beaming at us as if she hasn't seen us in years. I haven't the heart to remind her she is only eight weeks old and we have only known each other five days. Bless her.
Oh, yes, it may also be worth noting I skipped along myself this weekend last, to pay a visit to the countryside nest that is mum, dad and indeed Thea's home.
Despite all the trials and tribulations, adventures many wide-ranging and fun this city of London Uk has in abundance, indeed the globe in its entirety has on offer, one truly cannot beat the arrival of a new puppy into the bosom of a loving home to rejuvenate and rekindle ones passion for life.
Someone always pleased to see you, be with you and love you, someone always on your side even if we ourselves are aware we might, on this obviously very rare occasion, have got something slightly wrong.
In a loving nod of deeply heartfelt appreciation to Thea's all over the globe, I thank you, for being by our sides.
Until we meet again through the page,I trust this finds you in good health and a happiness,
Warmly yours
RJ Wardle X
