cbt

young dave and i are in love! the object of our affections is the lady who is coming to help my boy with his fear. she is called claudia and she is quite wonderful. as soon as we met her i knew things were going to go well. she let me give her ear a little lick and i whispered a few well-chosen compliments while i was there. needless to say she was charmed.

then during the session young dave, who has yet to learn the finer points of romance, sat behind her on the sofa and alternated leaning his head on her shoulder with nibbling her ears. i need to work harder with him on the "wooing ladies" module. although claudia seemed very happy with his clumsy efforts and showed him some magic tricks involving a disappearing felt pen.

the session went very well. my boy learned how the fear is making him feel sick and that he needs to work on the thoughts that set the whole thing off. claudia is going to come again next week so young dave and i will have the chance to see her again soon. and then my boy and i are going to visit her at her consulting room.

i just hope the fear doesn't disappear too quickly...

this dog contains no nuts

dear readers, young dave is feeling very sorry for himself. he has been for a little op on his wedding tackle. there is now less wedding tackle than there was before and he is wearing a lampshade.

the op was done on wednesday. herself dropped young dave off at the vets before work. i am still made to go and see the evil vet as he understands my various scars but since we have moved young dave is registered with the vet in our street. when herself went to collect him the vet had a quiet word. it appeared that young dave had disgraced himself by howling all day, to the point where they had to put him in his own room to avoid him disturbing the other patients. quite a lot of the howling was before he had the op so it cannot be put down to pain.

the same thing happened last saturday when i had to pop up to the evil vets to have my shoulder checked. (the scar from my surgery has been a bit weird but it seems it is nothing to worry about). when herself and i got back young dave was upstairs in my boy's room. he had been wailing non-stop to the point where the neighbours would have been disturbed. i have to say it warms my old heart that the little chap is so fond of his big friend.

herself has decided to try to tackle the howling before it becomes too much of a habit. so young dave and i are having separate time in little doses so he gets used to his own company. it appears that young dave has a form of what my boy has. so he too is having cbt. the young folks in our family are a fearful lot.

while young dave has to make do with herself as his therapist, my boy is going to have a proper therapist to deal with his fear. with the help of the lovely renal counsellor, herself has found a lady. this lady has a beefburger daughter and an artistic son so she knows her stuff. she is going to visit on monday to see what is what with my boy. and when he is brave enough to go to her house for his sessions, i am going to be allowed to go with him to hold his hand. i am very much looking forward to these outings. even a dog of my advanced years needs to keep on top of his neuroses...

lifted spirits

well dear readers, things are a bit cheerier around these parts than when i last wrote. but before i tell you all about it, herself and i wanted to thank you all for your kind and thoughtful comments. it is a source of great support to know that folks around the world are thinking of us as we muddle through life.

yesterday was the day when the assistant head teacher came to visit us. there was a fair bit of tidying and dusting and so on beforehand. young dave was given strict instructions to leave his wedding tackle alone. my boy was told to avoid tricky subjects like dog porn. eventually the assistant head teacher arrived. young dave and i quickly ascertained that she was a lover of dogs and young dave gently chewed the hem of her skirt while i gazed into her eyes. this charm offensive soon paid off and after a long discussion with the peeps about ways in which my boy can be educated without actually going to school she went upstairs to chat to my boy in his room/cave. i am not sure what was spoken about as young dave and i were forced to stay downstairs with the peeps but it sounded fairly positive and my boy, who had been dreading his teacher seeing our house, came down smiling. it seems that for the time being the peeps are freed from the threat of court, which has cheered them up no end.

then herself dashed off to the clinic for sad, fearful and deranged young people. it seems that herself attending without my boy was possible and she spent a happy hour telling my boy's shrink about things. a plan was formulated whereby the shrink has put my boy on some new meds, in addition to his happy pills. the new meds are to help conquer severe anxiety. the shrink gave herself another appointment in 2 weeks at which hopefully my boy will attend.

when herself got home and told my boy all about the new meds he asked what sort they were.

"they're anti-psychotics," explained herself.

"that doesn't mean they will put me off my guns does it?" said my boy, with one eye on the important things as always.

herself re-assured him that his warlike tendencies would remain undiminished. then it was time for them to head off to the snake-charmers' house for my boy's smiths lesson. smiths is something to do with numbers and mr snake-charmer, a wizard with numbers, is teaching it to my boy in return for which herself is doing the snake-charmers' garden. or more accurately operating a sort of scorched earth policy in their garden. it is about to be re-arranged and herself told the snake-charmers firmly that they needed to have things pruned in order to see what was what. i think the plan is to have a sort of mediterranean theme, although from the sound of it it is more along the lines of savanah at the moment...

gloom and fear

the bird table/sculpture thingey

dear readers, yet again i must grovel to you and apologise for my lack of contact. i have had the devil's own job persuading herself to get on the keyboard. the reason for this is that herself has been suffering from gloom. it has some fancy medical name like repression or something but the bottom line is just plain gloom.

things were ok, or at least not too disastrous, until the peeps were summoned to a meeting at my boy's school. my boy, as regular readers will recall, has been suffering with fear. this has meant he has not found it all that easy to go out of the house. since going to school involves not just going out of the house but going in a car for 20 minutes, followed by a taxi for an hour, my boy has not been going to school. the peeps have been trying to do educational stuff at home. herself has set up a blog for my boy to write what he has learned. alas, he will not share it with the wider world or i would give you a link. the peeps have borrowed a laptop for him to work on so he is not in his room. this avoids him being tempted to play with his gun collection when he should be writing about how to make bread. herself has spent hours on the internet finding things that might tempt my boy's interest. however, none of this counts as school. not going to school is something of a problem and the school called in a person called an ee-wo. hence the meeting.

the peeps were dreading the meeting. the ee-wo's main function seems to be taking parents to court. if the peeps were taken to court it would be bad for both of them. because of where we live it would be the court where herself appears as a lawyer. himself works in a school and is clerk to the governors, among other things. so neither of them would exactly get a promotion if they were taken to court.

the ee-wo was scary. as soon as the peeps sat down she fixed them with a steely stare. but worse was to come. the assistant head waded in.

"does he know that his parents will be taken to court if he refuses to come to school?"

the peeps assured her that he did. herself tried to explain that they were treading a fine line at home between my boy's fragile nervous state and the need to make the education authority's figures look good. therefore, while they would like to get him to school, they were not willing to do it at the expense of my boy's mental health. further, my boy is now 5 foot 10 inches tall. he soars over both peeps. himself is recovering from abdominal surgery. so the old practice of picking my boy up under one arm no longer works. there is also the question of human rights. my boy seems to have human rights and herself explained that to force him to go out of the house against his will, particularly if this involved what is legally an assault, would almost certainly contravene his human rights. herself is nothing if not the lawyer.

"well, putting it bluntly, he has a choice. he can either come to school here or he will be removed from the roll and he will have to go to a school nearer to where you live." the assistant head is someone who has been very kind to my boy so this approach rather shocked the peeps. but statistics and figures and budgets wait for no man, or indeed boy.

the peeps went on to explain that herself has been trying to get help for my boy from the the clinic for sad, fearful and deranged young people for 2 months. she has been phoning at least once a week, sometimes more. so far no help has materialised. herself explained that the peeps were doing everything they could, and a lot more than most families would, but that they were only human. at this point she started to weep.

the meeting ended with an agreement that my boy could stay on their books for the time being and do work at home. this would allow him to be marked as there in spirit if not in body, some sort of psychic miracle invented by an accountant. if only the accountants could stretch to funding a teleporter we would be home and dry.

yesterday, after endless chasing by herself and a number of other people, the clinic for sad, fearful and deranged young people sent a letter with an appointment. it is at the hospital, which is some 5 miles away by car. this week is the first time my boy has been in a car in a month. by way of increasing in tiny baby steps he has managed to travel by car up the road to where we go for a walk without feeling sick. but suddenly trying to go 5 miles will not work.

herself wrote an e-mail to the clinic for sad, fearful and deranged young people, explaining that the reason for the appointment was my boy's fear. if he had been able to get to the clinic, quite a bit of the problem would already have gone. she said it was surprising that this fact had not found its way onto my boy's medical notes, given she has phoned so often and has explained the problem every single time.

so we are back to square one. until a report has been written by the clinic for sad, fearful and deranged young people, no help is available, and if my boy doesn't do the work set by the school the peeps face being dragged off to court.

as inspector gadget is fond of saying, you couldn't make it up...

wood is good

lately we have seen quite a bit of action. on friday, herself went up to where uncle martin works and collected a trailer-full of wood. uncle martin is a saint. uncle martin works at a place where they make wooden things and they have a lot of off-cuts of untreated wood. as well as giving one of his kidneys to keep himself going uncle martin has also kept our whole family warm over this winter with wood.

i have a theory about superkidny. as he came from a man who loves wood, he has been missing the tang of resin. but try as he might, superkidny could not kindle the love of wood in himself. himself's love of football stifles wood-love. so, by a crafty process of sending out wood-loving rays through himself's ample belly, superkidny has managed to infiltrate my boy. all of a sudden my boy has become interested in carpentry. in fact it is more than an interest. it is an obsession. my boy is not one to do things by halves.

the trailer full of wood has interesting shapes. uncle martin has been making wooden dragons. the offcuts are therefore unusual. my boy had the idea of making some things with it. he has had a mate round who helped. here are some pictures of the finished products.







so frenetic is the rate of production that even herself cannot keep up with recording the masterpieces. since these photographs were taken further wonderful artifacts have appeared. there was a mace (now sadly de-constructed as it had been made from the line pole which was needed to dry washing), a candle holder of very solid proportions and a bird feeder which would happily accommodate a couple of eagles without their feathers getting ruffled.

the only drawback with all this is that we are again running out of wood to burn. it is a good thing it has turned mild...

happy holidays

dear readers, here you can see me enjoying the sea air, standing astride a musselly groyne. this picture is all the more notable because it is taken somewhere that herself has been averse to visiting for some time due to her nerves. regular readers will remember that herself was signed off work some time ago with precarious trauma. one symptom of this was a thing called panic attacks when she went to the city where she had worked. now to most of us a bit of panic is no bad thing in terms of keeping us on our toes, but when it stops you breathing and feels like a heart attack it has to be taken seriously.

since herself was signed off work 18 months ago she has only made a handful of visits to this scary place. but on monday himself had a hospital appointment there. the logistics of the peeps' morning, what with having a third attempt at getting a towbar fitted to the car (successful this time!) and therefore having to drop arthur the audi in the city of dread, the only option was for herself to take himself to the hospital in himself's car and then spend an hour or so in the delightful company of young dave and i waiting for him to finish.

after himself had been delivered we set off for the beach. young dave looked a little forlorn. unlike our local beach, which is full of dead things to munch (it is now known as the 'beach of death' after an astute observation by mrs window) , this city beach had nothing on it but stones. not a rotting carcass to be found. young dave had to make do with a forlorn balloon, no doubt left by revellers from the night before. this proved a lot of fun until young dave sank his teeth into it. with a loud pop it vanished into a shadow of its former self. young dave wolfed it down before herself could grab him.

other news this week - herself has constructed an awning for the back garden. one of the side effects of the drugs that himself has to take to keep superkidny happy is that he now faces a very much increased risk of skin cancer and therefore must stay out of the sun. not content with a collection of parasols herself decided an awning was a must. she put an advert on freecycle, a place where things are free, asking for a sail. a lovely man got in touch saying he had two sails she could have. so yesterday i spent an interesting day watching herself building the awning.

she borrowed a hammer drill from mr next door, who has a wealth of interesting tools. there followed some hideous screeching noises while she drilled holes for a pole to hold one end of the awning. then the other end was sorted. after final measurements the sewing machine came out in order to tidy up the edges. and finally it was done. himself came out to admire it. at this point a high wind blew up, flapping the sail alarmingly. herself said that we wouldn't normally be using it on such a windy day so himself was not to worry.

i hope she is right. we live very near to a railway. it would not be good if the awning blew across the windscreen of a passing train...

drama queen

dear readers, today's post very nearly did not get written. herself came downstairs yesterday to find young dave running round with her glasses in his mouth. in spite of being asked nicely he was reluctant to relinquish them, but eventually herself regained control. the glasses are none the worse for wear apart from falling off her nose more than they used to.

monday was a day of high drama. mondays are one of the days we walk kinky the dalmation. monday dawned wet. the first task of the day was for the peeps to drop off herself's car at the towbar place. himself has a car which was lent to him by some nice people called motability and now he has super kidny the car has to go back. so the peeps had to buy another car. the new car does not have a towbar. and because of the trailer we need a towbar so herself arranged for one to be fitted.

all went well until herself tried to start the car. "ner, ner, ner, clunk" said the car. and that was it. the peeps tried some things called jump leads, although i could not see much jumping from my vantage point in the window. more drooping than jumping, if the truth be told. then herself tried connecting the car to the battery charger (which involved asking mrs rokit to put the extension lead through their window as herself cannot work out how to remove the battery). while the car was absorbing electricity the towbar man rang. it seemed that unless arthur the audi was there sharpish they would have to come back next week. as you cannot hurry a battery charger arrangements were made for next monday.

eventually herself had pushed enough leccy into the battery to start the car so she took it off to the battery folks to get a new battery. himself was then dropped off at work. this was when things started to unwind. herself decided to take me and young dave and kinky to the beach, in an effort to avoid extreme sports in the mud. but the beach was a bad idea. almost the minute we go there young dave found something dead. it was not only dead but had been highly spiced. no-one could work out what it was but it smelt rough, even to my tutored nose. the next thing that happened was that kinky took fright and ran off into the road. it may have been the rain that elicited this response as it was horizontal and sharp at this point. anyway, herself caught me and put me in the car before trying to catch the younger folks. young dave would not come back until he had finished every morsel of the dead thing. so herself set off after kinky, who was making a bid for home. kinky eventually headed into a church, and young dave was curious enough to jump over the wall, whereupon he was apprehended by herself.

"jesus christ!" said herself. then, realising she was in the grounds of the church, she said to young dave, "i shouldn't have said that. it was disrespectful, given where we are." young dave is not a spiritual being so this was lost on him.

herself turned her attention to kinky, who had set off at a pace. after some time herself realised that kinky was looking round periodically to check she had a human in tow. if this had been me or young dave herself would have left us to get back to the car, but as kinky is the dog of friends there is a certain amount of responsibility involved. anyway, herself came back to the car and we drove around for some time before finding kinky and eventually apprehending her, with the aid of a kindly man who was passing.

after kinky had been delivered safely home we crawled back into the house, stunned by the weather. but there was to be no rest for the virtuous. a visitor was due, for whom extensive preparations had been made the day before. the visitor was from socialist services and was coming to help sort out my boy's fear. in anticipation of her visit the blood from my tail had been cleaned off the walls and the general air of decay had been replaced by the smell of air freshener.

as herself settled down on the sofa to compose herself before the arrival of the visitor, young dave began to retch. and before he could be encouraged into the garden he had regurgitated the whole of the rotting carcass, all over our bed. and i have to say it was one of the least fragrant offerings i have encountered. herself and my boy squealed. my boy was dispatched to fetch air freshener, while herself, with her face buried in her jumper, scooped up the vile offering into bags. no sooner had the worst of it been pitched outside than the socialist worker lady knocked on the door.

she was a nice lady, and polite about young dave's advances, but it was clear that herself was not relaxed. no doubt the thought of young dave's fondness for his nether regions was preying on her mind. at last the visit was over and the lady left, promising to write a letter to the people who deal with fear.

meanwhile i am camping out in the chair. nothing would possess me to sleep among that miasma...

clarification

her maamship has challenged me to describe to my readers just what it is that young dave does when he is enraptured with his wedding tackle. her maamship, it has to be said, has seen the act before, usually when the peeps are eating, so i can only conclude that her request is purely in an effort to make yours truly blush. as today is her first day of true judgeship, having been enwigged yesterday, i will humour her. but i would warn those of you who are squeamish to talk amongst yourselves for a para or two.

young dave, as you know, is a lurcher. the lurcher is a type of dog known as a longdog. this does not refer to the wedding tackle but to the body. a long body is useful for many things, not least stopping your legs banging into each other when running fast.

young dave has chosen to turn his long body to good use performing what i believe is known as 'oracle six' on himself. it seems that humans have to engage the help of another human to perform oracle six but young dave has discovered that with the help of one or two yoga techniques he can achieve quite satisfactory results solo.

so there you have it. the only problem that young dave might experience on his wedding night is how to incorporate his bride into this activity without ending up in a knot...

lost in translation

i see that, not for the first time, my attempts at discretion have left some of my oversees readers puzzled. all i can say is, please do not attempt a google image search for wedding tackle unless you are of a strong constitution.

i will attempt to explain my euphemisms without offending those more sensitive of my readers.

take a dog like my goodself. turn him over. at one end will be his head. at the other end, his tail, or what passes for a tail in some breeds. from the tail work your way (visually rather than manually, i would suggest) towards the head. first you will come across the little hole where the icky stuff comes out. then you will come to a little bag containing mysterious marble-like things (unless said dog has had them stolen, as in my case). then you will come across a long pipe which is fixed to the undercarriage of the dog with fur but which occasionally pops out to say hello (in the case of our household this can cause alarm among the humans).

the marble bag and the pipe together comprise the wedding tackle. they are so called because they come in handy on one's wedding night. and on other occasions too. a bit like fishing tackle for fishing, if you get my drift.

and as for knitting our own electricity, i am afraid my boy and his pithy sense of humour is to blame. whenever herself comes up with a money-saving scheme my boy will roll his eyes heavenwards and say "oh no! another knit-your-own-muesli scheme!" there are variations on this but 'knit-your-own-electricity' is entirely herself's own work.

so there you are. at ease...

charity begins next door

here you can see a shopping list, dear readers. there is nothing particularly unusual about this list, i hear you say. then when you look again you may notice that as well as run-of-the-mill things like cornflakes, there are also "suitable vegetables". this is to differentiate them from "unsuitable vegetables". himself has issues with certain sorts of vegetable.

and what, i hear you ask, is "being and nothingness"? is it something you put in cake to make it light and full of air? no, dear readers, it is nothing to do with shopping. it is the name of the blog of a cyberfriend of herself. the shopping list was the only piece of paper she could find when she needed to write it down.

the shopping lists are getting rather less inspiring as the financial situation becomes more precarious. but as usual, herself has a plan. tomorrow a man is coming to visit. herself has applied for a grant to help out with the knit-your-own-electricity project. the man is apparantly very formal and posh. i have been practising sucking in my cheeks in order to convey the lack of decent food round here.

but it seems i am not to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance. young dave and i, and my boy, are being banished next door for the duration of the visit. it took me a little while to deduce why this was. after all, we are friendly and polite. but it seems that the man might be a little taken aback by some of our habits. young dave's recent discovery of his wedding tackle has led to some fairly steamy scenes in which he practices for his wedding night. and i am not beyond reproach in that department, in spite of my advancing years. my boy is being sent to keep an eye on us. i think in part his banishment was prompted by his suggestion that we show the man how enterprising we are in our financial schemes.

"as he comes in," said my boy, "i'll ask him if he wants to pay to see some dog porn!"

ah well, at least we will get to fondle young ruby...